Poem: construction worker

by the side of the house,
the shirt soaked through with sweat,
fiberglass insulation pricking the skin,
a smear of mud on the face,
sawdust in the hair,
cuts on the hands,
burst open blisters,
dirt under the fingernails,
dirt stains on the pants,
something in the eyes,
the sun blazing,
coughing from the dust,
with swollen feet,
from seven am,
until past seven.

Poem: seated, listening, a choice

something is described,
it sounds,
it sounds,

It sounds,
like what it sounds like,
and somehow,
there’s a thought,
that it can’t be real.

just think,

something is described,
it sounds,
it sounds,

When you compare the two,
and think of the possible choice,
walking on coals,
or falling in a volcano,
although nothing’s guaranteed,
walking on coals,
seems much less bad.

Post Series: The Dragonfly Series: Poem: The dragon flies and the dragonflies

The dragon flies,
above in clouds,
that shimmer in the purple light.

The wings do glow,
as lightning strikes,
and they do beat with strengthened might.

And there the eyes,
look up in fear,
as hearts do race at just the sight.

And in the dread,
of what will be,
the forms below run from their plight.

But there the wings,
a thousand count,
do rise above to a great height.

And with one form,
the dragonflies,
move all as one and start to fight.

The flame bursts out,
and burns the sky,
as heat and light do fill the night.

But there they move,
with one great force,
and form a lance as of a knight.

And with the blow,
the dragon falls,
and hits the earth and turns dead white.

And then they fly,
as cheers are heard,
on to the left and to the right.

Poem: the fifth day

Today’s the fifth day,
  should that be counted?

Today’s the fifth day.

There’s been …
the words,
the counting,
the uncertainty,
the feelings,
  as in times past,
but at times,
those things,
that are contrary to that.

As time goes,
the days aren’t counted,
the well … lessens,
and those things,