Stealing along a darkened road; its path crooked
Fleeting around trees, leaves shivering in its wake, grass frozen mid-bow in homage
Inspecting, watchful, it’s purpose clear
A lone traveler comes; hungry for warmth
A house in the darkness; to the porch, peeking into windows; a door ajar
Cold sees an opportunity
Leaning in like a party guest offering unwanted advice, seizing the moment to enter
Quickly occupying every nook and cranny; nesting, rooting,
Inching forward through every carelessly cracked window, down every open chimney flue
Seeping along the floor, hugging corners
Inspecting cupboards, trying on boots and gloves
Filling closets and testing bed sheets; searching
Halting in a darkened corner, cold utters a sigh; glittery breath frosting windows in the vacant night
Uninvited visitor, unwelcome guest in the quiet
Faintly, the sound of voices tug at the fringes of its weary consciousness;
Lights flicker on, interrupting its blue reverie; the rising sound of laughter assaults it’s crude senses
Suddenly feeling exposed, resolve melting, Cold hurriedly gathers it’s things, shoulder’s its frosty rucksack, and dissolves into the baseboards and walls, hiding
Whispering down halls, tendrils collecting its belongings along the way, cold escapes out the door as a warm body enters, door shut rudely at it’s back
Indignant and disheveled, Cold collects itself, shrugs its pack into place, and starts once again down the road trailing winter behind it

Coffee’s Comin’ Down The Tracks

Morning ritual wakes us up.
Pound of coffee in your cup.
Black as night and heavy too.
Man, this is your kind of brew.
Coffee is so thick and dank.
Rolls in like a Sherman tank.
Busting rivets, twisting guts.
Loosening your bolts and nuts.
This pot it has a coal car.
A fireman and crew.
Hit that mountain running.
Son, you have no clue.
Clear the way to Uncle John.
Pave the streets and tell your Mom.
Ticker tape parade with bands.
Don’t forget to wash your hands.
When it’s done and all is quiet.
Feel like you’ve been on a diet.
Have another cup my friend.
I’ll stay with you to the end.

You would swear this has pistons and that the boiler is about to explode.

The Garage Sale

This Actually Happened:

The Garage Sale

Here’s a cautionary tale
A five year old, some change, a sale
The neighbors had way too much stuff
Our kid didn’t have enough
Asked her dozing Mom and Dad
Could she borrow just a tad
Took the money went and shopped
Got some more and didn’t stop
Back and forth between two homes
Deon with her cash did roam
Parents woke, opened their eyes
Got one hell of a surprise
Elvis would have been so proud
Everything she bought was loud
Virtual atomic plume
Deon’s stash shown in the gloom
Fruit arrangements painted bright
So gaudy they emitted light
Everything no one desired
Our child happily acquired
Centerpieces, blinding flowers
Someone get a Geiger Counter
We thought fast we had to act
How to deal with this with tact
Course we told her it looked great
It was time to decorate
To her playhouse it all went
Where its time with us was spent
Her taste improved as she got older
Beauty lies with the beholder

A Life Reclaimed

I wrote this for an AA potluck prize a couple of summers ago and shellacked it onto a board. I’m not advocating for any particular recovery group but I really do think AA is one of the smartest, wisest recovery programs out there. Nothing’s perfect but if you read what they call The Big Book, the intelligence and humility that went into the formation of this program is really apparent. The reading’s hilarious at times.

No Rules Just Words

This is where I get to go
What I’ll write I never know
Doesn’t have to follow form
Doesn’t have to be the norm
Whatever comes across my mind
All fair game let it unwind
Blank space as far as I see
Waits for creativity
Coloring outside the lines
Search my head to find what rhymes
If I come up empty, bare
Matching words I find nowhere
Rhymezone is my favorite place
Find a word to fill the space
Different formats, different styles
I could write for miles and miles
I am now done with this poem
Close the shop time to go home

Absurd Bird Second Version

I wrote a little bit on turkeys
Navigating wordpress murky
Had it all ready to go
Hit the launch then shit oh no
My turkey poem disappeared
In it’s place some food appeared
Frantic, started cutting blocks
My prose about the birds got chopped
I’d ordered up a food design
Launched it well before its time
Bye bye birdies off you go
All that’s left are some photos