Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: weekend scribbles

  • Benched

    The bench spoke to me. 
I waited so long: 
the daily walks,
the nervous glances,
 - hoping. 
I made excuses, 
now thinking about it, 
to walk by. 
Deluding myself to believe.

No,

I do like walking.

I do like that bench.
 
Around and around
that gnarly,
blood-footed path.

And then
sat, 

“please leave“ it requested. 
An underwhelming introduction, 
but 
chills and flutters
still. 
I walk on.

  • Gravitate

    The first came from answer,
a place you'd least expect. 
The last place on earth
rest between your lips. 
A final question answered.
Where every person lay.
A journey finally ventured,
dead silence caught, 
magnificent 
and utterly afraid.

So rudely interrupted.
Destined, 
from the middle  
to the end of a line. 
The story not faded, 
but truly refined - 
a switchback no one knows. 
The last mark of ink.
An ‘x’ between your feet. 
Dig deeper still
until you sink beneath.

  • Solstice

    Over the shoulder
into dawn - 
a bruised and battered sky. 
Past the fallen
violet honey
or so goes the cry. 

Through cedar boughs;
over ice - 
a freshly minted leave.
A turned corner,
the smokehouse finds reprieve. 

A cliche for all ages,
"what's done is done,"
and again
never comes.
A brow's glistening white beads.

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  • Bar Setting

    Message from the awful truths 
nothing stronger than full proof. 
Bits and pieces of presumption. 

Little takeaways for view - 
pleasure emptier than the room. 
Rise to the occasion or rise to nothing. 

Gracious notes from old to new: 
scrambled eggs and beatnik floof. 
Flowers on collars and shelves of buttons. 

Let the setting scene
fade to view.

  • Hold Cloak, Bring Dagger

    Skepticism in its sheath,
a proverb donned on me. 
Judgement come cloud,
some lost and some found,
repetitious melody. 

Anticipate their looks, 
the mile long stares, 
breeding surreptitiously. 
Eyes bounce and hang;
besieging pack of googlies.

  • Canyon

    A foreign voice,
bob and drift
yours, 
further down
after years 
streaming
trapped in hesitation. 
and drown
Rusty and broken, 
winding 
“This is me,”
cries
it says. 
thrashing
“This is me,” 
doppler in effect
it agreed.