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I’m having dinner at five You could meet me It would be nice to see you Warm feeling in my chest Footsteps lighter Easy laughter Amazing change In outlook Knowing At day’s end Will be Your smile Your bright eyes Good conversation Mundane, tedious day Now transformed To eager anticipation ©2010 BT
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Whitewater Draw, Southern Arizona
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Writers block Frustrates Sometimes Days, weeks or months Without a word Then A conversation A call from an old friend A new romance Or a sunset Triggers The free flow of words From the collective unconscious Causing The needed release Of Mental diarrhea ©2011 BT
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Tiny jewels and scars Ornament her body Glimmers and bumps Each triggering memories Of past pains And pleasures And dreams Of volcanoes And molten lava Fire opals shimmering Like the glimmer in her eyes. ©2009 BT
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There is not a muscle or structure in the body that has a more keenly developed sense of alertness and ability to accommodate itself to varying situations. It is like the goalie in hockey…always alert. They say man has succeeded where the animals fail because of the clever use of his hands yet, when compared…
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Another computer generated poem–obviously less-sophisticated program… Once More, My Love This night I shall dream of your bedazzling green hair and panther-eyes. Wrapped in echoes of your mellifluous arm-music, I long to sip from your mangoful lips. In my dreams,we fly on the exquisite winged eggplant of redness skimming vast continents of elbows and horses.…
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I Am I am curious and afraid I wonder what life has in store for me I hear the sound of church bells I see dragons in flight I want to love and be loved I am curious and afraid I pretend to know a lot I feel elated I touch your soul I worry…
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I’ve always wanted To use The word Onomatopoeia In a meaningful sentence. Oh, guess I just did! Never mind. (c) 2011 BT
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Bad dreams Nightmares A teenage boy Refrigerators Full of blood Fear (Don’t let them see) Responsibility Car bomb Six or more patients coming Type and cross Twenty units Ambulance arrives No lights No siren Hands, feet, torsos, heads Delivered in makeshift stretchers Made from olive drab blankets No survivors The job has shifted From saving…
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Trapped in a tunnel Light at the end Gets smaller And dimmer Options narrowing Faint musky odor Air neither cold Nor warm Stagnant Invisible things move Slithering, slinking Shadow beings Never quite visible Standing still Heart pounding Audible Above the dull silence Senses dulled Disoriented No pain No fear No joy No anger No peace…
Desert Dweller 