Category Archives: Poetry

Lame attempts at poetry, generally written to please myself or as a form of self-prescribed therapy.

Abandoned

Far north of the sun on the sands of a beach
A hulk lies half buried on land
Who knows what it carried when last leaving port
Now it's holds carry water and sand

Abandoned in place when the sea broke it's back
For decades it's been here and will
Forever remain 'till the steel rots away
Ground to dust in nature's great mill

Winter Watchman

Searingly cold, I am chilled to the bone
Crystalline ice coats the ground
Darkness paints over the bluest of skies
Snow muffles the loudest of sounds

Rational beings are tucked in warm holes
To hibernate is natures great plan 
But standing here now, knee deep in new snow
I marvel at a brazen lone man

He stands there alone, protecting the globe
Keeps watch with a resolute stance
A sentinel silent, a witness as well
He begs us to not miss our chance 

Mumble grumble

Mumble grumble gripe and rumble
Roiling waves of discontent
Leave me be and let me simmer
Since my patience now it's spent

Don't expect commiseration
Just because you love this stuff
What to some is pleasure simple
Can't be distanced far enough

Little Things

They say don't sweat the small things,
But give big ones all they're due.
A principle that comfort brings,
A guide star pointing true.

Yet massive things when broken down,
Are small in truth and deed.
So monstrous stuff of great renown,
Must garner little heed.

Not Nobody

Dickenson's poem says she's nobody,
She couldn't be further from right.
Everyone's someone to somebody,
A jewel and a treasured delight.

Some discount their talents and value,
Our Saviour sees through all of that,
To cherish potential and virtue,
And love us wherever we're at.

Rust

Badly swollen and weak
It groans and it grinds
It creaks and it squeaks
Then it seizes and binds.

So more leverage apply
Yes! It yields just a bit
And shears off the next turn
I'm so mad I could spit.

A New Man

Peetie the one-legged pirate,
came stumping along down the path,
wearing his stripe-ed pajamas,
and desperately needing a bath.

Grumbling, mumbling, and grousing along,
A cloud hanging over his head,
Scowling and wearing a horrible frown,
Ever since he climbed out of his bed.

His grizzled long beard looked like lightning,
His eyebrows were tied up in knots.
Powder smoke blackened his visage,
His mustache held clumps of dried snot.

As he thundered along down the alley, 
He stepped in through several a door,
Collecting a bit at each halting,
What he needed and not a thing more.

At the 
Read the rest

Sunset

Each day that dawns begins anew,
Brings light to what was dark.
Dries morning dew and opens eyes,
To see a morning lark.

Yet daylight too must yield its way,
Retreat as evening comes.
Give place to swift encroaching dark,
Though tasks lie still undone.

We cannot stop this constant churn,
Though fear or doubt cry out.
The rolling tides of forcing change,
Are deaf to human shouts.