The Beach

I am sitting on a heavy brown beach chair, my feet propped up on the stone wall in front of me. A white translucent bag sits on my lap, and inside of it sits a bag of yarn. I am sitting in friendly silence with several other people, and my knitting needles click slowly. I have been having a difficult time focusing on knitting, and I have gotten an inch of sock done in six days. That is not a lot for me (in an average weekend, I can get two thirds of a mid calf high sock done). I have been enjoying the beautiful sight of the ocean and the sunrises and sunsets above it.

More Poems

Red stretches around me,

my fingers dig into the fine sand.

I am held by stone and mud,

a part of the silent forest. 

The horizon ends at the edge of a crater

I can hear my own breathing,

and the gratings of insects.

All is below me,

silent and still. 

Far below, dirt has formed a miniature canyon

A model of where I am. 

The strain of muscles

my feet pounding grassy earth

blood pumps from my heart.

What Once was Math Class

Grey lighting, 

Too hot or too cold.

Boredom almost killing, 

Slumping in uncomfortable chairs, 

Away from the group, 

Passing notes. 

Silent laughter, 

Shared smiles. 

Fluttering stomachs,

Like the wings of butterflies. 

Knowing,

Falling. 

Limericks

There once was a child from Detroit.

At fishing he was quite adroit.

He once caught a finger, 

And then ceased to linger,

For his hands had been so maladroit. 

There once was a pony from Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg

Who broke his foot on a log

He had been a runnin'

He was moved by a Djinn,

And found out that he was in a bog. 

Free Verse Poems

Forest

Trying hard to picture a day

Bright and warm

Less windy than today.

In a place where the grass is long

And fine and brilliantly colored. 

Where moss coats the roots of the deciduous trees. 

There is a stream, 

Or a creek,

Flowing between the trees, 

And it is crystal clear, 

And it has been running for hundreds of years. 

Somewhere where the foliage glows green where the sun rises.

There are no roads wide enough for a car. 

Water from the creek falls

Into a pool surrounded by granite.

The pool drains to the ocean, 

Surrounded by tall grasses, 

And pale, small, 

Grains of sand. 

Sunburn

The sky is brightened by the star the solar system orbits around.

The brightness shines down,

Turning the pale brown of my skin to pink. 

When the pink fades, it leaves brown dots,

Freckles.

They are said to mar the human complexion, 

But abnormalities, 

Such as freckles,

Are simply aberrations in skin color.

Occasional Poetry

The wind was loud,
The cannon hot,
The first ship, Ranger
Blackbeard got.
The wind blew fast across the sea,
The Jane pulled up beside.
Adventure sprouted yellow
Sulphur smoke poured hot and loud.
The pirates boarded
Sight unseen unto the deck of the Jane
And when the hot summer wind swept aside the smoke,
Blackbeard's life was took
Twenty stabs and many shots,
Took him to the deck.
Two years, one beard,
A man, one death.
Legend, forever made.

Ode to the Dog

In the middle of the night
     And my pillows have vanished
You are there,
     Having pushed my other pillows off the bed.
If I am sitting on the couch
     you are always there,
holding your toy hippo
     Saying please take this out of my mouth
And I say no, take your nasty toy away.
And then I give in, grab it, and throw.

Haikus: Spring cycle

Vinka is blooming
Loud among the emerald leaves
Deep shadows beneath

Grapefruit with a bruise
It has no seeds inside it
No hope of new growth

The pinto bean grows
Out of a jar filled with dirt
Green vines; a dry source