they who give quickly give twice
that which costs little is less esteemed
who would not laugh at the raving fits
of the man almost out of his wits
over the sudden unexpected breakage
of his more than precious wine bottle
“twould be so nice could I see as such
an equal spillage of his detested blood
looking so far back is indeed sweet
forewarning that the price of nostalgia
can all too often become most bitter
Metaphors
teeter-totter
as children we called it a teeter-totter moon sliver of light held there between us and stars something we could not comprehend in those years years filled with amazement shrouded with innocence innocence that slowly faded along with childhood childhood memories that were pushed away by war war that took our youth and turned it into horror horror that still follows into my advancing years years that move steadily toward their destined end end as I still recall that teeter-totter moon
WATCH
Watch your thoughts
or they become your words
watch your words
or they become your actions
watch you actions
or they become your character
watch your character
for it becomes your destiny
ridicule
There is no character,
howsoever good and fine,
but it can be destroyed by ridicule,
howsoever poor and witless.
Observe the ass, for instance:
his character is about perfect,
he is the choicest spirit among
all the humbler animals,
yet see what ridicule
has brought him to.
Instead of feeling complimented
when we are called an ass,
we are left in doubt.
unseen
While our curate made his speech
the disguised woman stood as one half asleep
now beholding the one now the other
without once moving her lip or saying a word
just like a rustical clown
when rare and unseen things to him before
are unexpectedly presented to his view
world
in all evidence
there is some interpretation
I seek a world of my own
walking in a strange land
time I must certainly find
to wait in silence
for my world to end
STAY
all too often I do not understand your ways
so I simply remain here in my world
I find that if I stay still for long periods
moss tends to grow around my feet
a colorless breeze blows right through me
there is a certain beauty in vagueness
SUBTLE
above that sleek bulging body
see those hour-glass blood red
spots on that bulging abdomen
watch as she weaves her web
forbidden fruit proffered
in weakness I did eat
TENEBROUS SUGGESTIONS
A vile, strange smelling concoction
slowly stirred by a wooden ladle
bubbles madly in an iron cauldron
blackened by countless ancient fires
in a cave beneath mountainous roots
with a meager light coming from coals
over which simmers his noxious brew
a stooped figure continues silently working
accompanied by shadows that dance in time
with swirling motions of his wooden staff
vague light reflected from sooted panes
offer tenebrous suggestions of lidded jars:
jars, pots, vials, vats, that offer no clue
to whatever might be hidden therein
mysteries to make Pandora’s denizens
seem paltry and tame by comparison
faint hints of things that seem to shiver
anticipating in this almost light of madness
created by pallid flames generated by a fire
that seems to burn without benefit of fuel
faster, faster, faster, goes that wooden staff
pinch of this, dash of that, into the boiling pot
as with reckless abandon there begins a chant
a cloud slowly forms not quite hiding a figure
who has now become a prisoner in its midst
a breeze springs from nowhere bringing change
chill is carried throughout this hidden cavern
as heavy silence suddenly becomes cacophony
a fire truck has arrived at long last bringing
relief to Father’s latest cooking catastrophe
SPARK
once my words burned brightly
cheerful flames dancing figures
then my living took me far away
in my haste I failed to bank my fire
now my days are spent sifting ashes
seeking for just one elusive spark
to help rekindle those dancing flames
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