return?

‘twas never my intent 
to be gone so long
when will new words 
be added to my song
‘twas years I last walked 
this wanderin’ way
followed faint trails 
‘twere never seen by day

advancin’ years can never 
lessen these my dreams
placed bridges across 
those oft misted streams
o'er which must advance 
towards my return
to that resting place 
for which I ever yearn

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obloquy

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

rooster

Half past five daily ritual plays out
black, red, yellow, golden plumage aquiver
clarion call toward coming sunrise
much like vaunted ancestor Chanticleer
day must be welcomed so ‘twill come to us

silence reigns now predawn sounds subdued
once proud rooster crows no more 

hurricanes

all hurricanes are liberals
they always spin to the left
their main source of power is hot air
they leave a mess everywhere they go
we always have to clean up after them
sane people leave when one approaches
they wander around with no set direction

senseless

Our “body-politik” most often called Congress

has become a distinctively American Criminal Class

which meets in private for more than three weeks

trying to prepare a senseless impromptu speech

that allows them to relish and enjoy each new crisis

they would never waste an opportunity such as this

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

hubris

there are times
silence speaks
louder than words
blind hubris
continues driving her
to much greater
feats of stupidity
she continues
her endless quest
for what lies just
beyond nowhere
leap frogging toward
the finish line of life

Politician

No politician, whether large or small,
however deep they crawl into their rut
will never appear to stand so tall
as when they stoop to kiss another’s……

the time has come

I have reached the point
where I no longer savor
thoughts of expressing myself
with this indifferent keyboard
my words have lost their flavor

I struggled futilely for months
upgrade became a catastrophe
my blog became as my aging body
nothing works the same as before
my mountain top approaches

upon me are three anniversaries
the suddenness of my stroke
the passing of my lovely daughter
the beginning of this my blog
the end is fast coming into view

Where?

scratchings meander
`thout rhyme or reason
from this leaky pen
held `tween stiff fingers
pecked wanton symbols
from my keyboard
no longer making sense
from these my musings
wanderin’ through spaces
known to none else
reason becomes lost
in search of another rhyme
all this leads me to ask
Where goeth my Words?