Wrightings

 Deep in the wood, where shadows grow, The branches claw the sky, A hush that hums beneath your feet, As something passes by. From moss she rose, with earthen eyes, And breath of loam and rain, The rock of granite loomed ahead— With threat of doubt and pain. Castle or prison, none could tell, Its windows dark as night, From within monsters groaned, As if they feared the light. The wind whispered through the pines, A name we could not know, Our courage thinned like spider silk, But still we chose to go. Our wooden weapons, raised with care, And finger guns held tight, We faced the dark with pounding hearts Then broke it with delight. Rang out with TV themes so bold, Through gloom and ghostly hue, We laughed and sang our fears away Like Scooby and his crew. Monkeys danced in nonsense tunes, Bananas in the fray, The forest shrank, the shadows fled, And night gave way to play.

  I wanted to be her first  Oldest memory  I wanted her to love me Like a mother but more Her favorite aunty  Of course the others  Did not know her But I was so proud I wished her to be mine We dressed up for the show Got in to the 1974 Ford Placed the lap belt across her Buckled in for safety But I was a new driver Overly cautious  So when a car pulled out Too close, I slammed on the brakes And she a wisp of a niece Slid under the lap belt  from the clean vinyl seat  to the floor Don’t tell anybody  Is her memory ingrained  (happy birthday Carrie Jo)

  THE END OF JAEL AND SISERA (by ANTHONY TROLLOPE) JAEL was  sitting  the day  arrive mean  hoping  to see Clara,  and make her fail found it  impossible  to say  painting-room, during intervals  A man  allowed fifteen minutes  on  offers  and his heart;  had  twelve minutes  The turban! mean time,   Brought explaining  favour  in respect  she ought a  little more liberty  On this occasion  his friend,  able as  he had wished  the matter  himself. found  talk  exclusively  about  affairs.

 A poem of grief with rhetorical questions and a little rhetoric,  An onion skin peeled  leads to another onion skin  not quite dry. The one  that will make you cry. Why do I go from tapping my toe  to a song to the tears  running down my face?  Both are universal responses.  When will this end?  Like the onion in evolves over time. The knife cuts the skin,  blood spills like onion juice.  Both burn.

  Bottom-Dweller Beneath the shimmering surface lurks a creature vital: the Bullhead. of the catfish family, true survivors, From distinctive barbels to parental dedication, Bullheads offer the tenacity of freshwater life. distinguished by their smooth, scaleless skin barbels around their mouth sensitive chemosensory organs, underwater antennae to detect food in murky waters. body shape is somewhat stocky, coloration varies mottled brown or olive green; dark olive to black; or yellowish sides and a paler belly. sharp, serrated spine located at the front of their dorsal and pectoral fins deliver a painful prick a mild venom, a deterrent Preferred homes slow-moving or stagnant waters muddy, or silty bottoms. ponds, lakes, reservoirs, rivers, even ditches. amongst dense aquatic vegetation submerged debris, Bullhead a testament to ingenuity and resilience. humble bottom-dwellers, vital components of freshwater ecosystems, unsung heroes (A blackout poem from Bullhead - Description, Hab...

  Contradiction Being human is a contradiction  Having high moral values You do not, cannot follow As you sit in traffic and watch  A small domestic animal Darts amongst squealing tires You’re glad it made it across the street But you don’t go back to look for it Capture it, take it home or to a shelter Instead you curse those responsible  Being human is a contradiction  Wanting to help the man on the street But turning your nose up to his stench Refusing to give him a dime for drugs Not trusting his moral compass Or thinking he no longer has one So one your high horse you offer Fast food and a list of resources Being human is a contradiction