Plan B

All had gone according to Plan-It was confirmed.
Who made the Plan?
The one with the most Experience.
If they were experienced, why make a plan?
Things don't always go-
according to Plan,
even if it has been done (before).
Is this a new ending?
It is only the beginning.
We must Start over.
In the end...
(pursuant).


Drawing By John Bunyan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. 

Full Title: A Plan of the Road From the City of Destruction to the Celestial City, Adapted to The Pilgrim's Progress, 1821.

Rhymes with Bucket

As an echo gargles the ells
Is that All
                 I've got
given it  _  All-
-pulled back, squint in-
        -tensed up-
Un-wound,
I begin to see specifically
out of line
drops
in
the bucket...
...
..
.
By the way: (I lost sight of mine
I, me-I, me, mine
and All those
hollow no's)

Enough is Enough
to go around
for each of us plus
it's All superfluous.

Half-full, half-baked,
half-witi-schism-
wrung wry
and completely empty I be,
sufficiently still sere here
unilaterally.


Image By FOTO:Fortepan — ID 92566:  Adományozó/Donor : Unknown. [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Land-locked (West verse-us East)

There was never a poem
not about we
There was no ocean
to be sensed
in the fog settling
pre-dawn
There could never be
beauty
without poetry
There is no way to say
we lived this way
without touching words today
looking brackish as they be.

There was never a poem not about we

There was no ocean to be sensed 

(in the fog settling pre-dawn)

There could never be beauty 

(without poetry)

There is no way to say 

(we lived this way)

without touching words (today)-

(looking) brackish as they be. 

Painting by Winslow Homer, Looking out to Sea (c. 1881) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Petty theft

It is inappropriate to boast about the broad, beautiful,
waxen new wrap around the money tree-
the broadening face sized lime leaves of the ivy...

because this is ordinary
and the evil trumpet dies down dispersing
crimson cornet flutes on the concrete too, liberally.

It is disturbing to think of the wasted ink, tendrils of creepers
tangled in lines suffocating acumen. And then, under the awning;
languid is the light with her stole of dull emeralds

It was just all right.



Image By (Photo) (c)2007 Derek Ramsey (Ram-Man) (Self-photographed) [GFDL 1.2 (http://www.gnu.org/licenses/old-licenses/fdl-1.2.html)], via Wikimedia Commons.

No need for alarm

At 5 am I have already lost it.
And though it is quiet
still never came...

I feel strong coming on
and blunt edges fading away,
the light is too heavy to lift...

I leave it be-
as though I could pause the suns rise
and unsee what lies today

Ahead of time and out of tune-
Too late
to say anything new...



Photo credit By kallerna (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Forthright

The T
with its crosshairs
feathered with aech
and too
are used as wings
in a word-Truth-
with you in the middle.
The angels arrow
hits the squinted bullseye,
stuck in a black hole lie.




Painting by Giovanni Baglione, The Divine Eros defeats the earthly Eros (c.1602), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sign language

Early,
I learned to yell with horses,
assert my stubborn will with weight
and quiet hands-
neigh.

Nay-
I remember not getting anywhere
faster than a cheetah, as
likewise, the robin flees before the race
we all jump the gun-alert and
early.

A wild child-yet unbroke
and the mustang duo, run like there is no
Lands End-
Let us pretend too,
hills only roll gently
circling round the plain...

Flowers sway and manes fly,
entangling tendrils and thrills-
with that type of wind
that blows her name-Gale
fast and hard.

I have found where thunder settles
down and grazes.

And did I ride bareback-
harness-less-Yes.
I confess,
I stole many horses
with my bare hands
rhetorically.

A bit and bridle, only
belong here,
reined in poetry
as this is memory
Now
ad Again.

I think of signs,
like lightening
and stalled horses
and understand
plain screams,
and freedom.


Photo By National Park Service, U.S. Department of the Interior. Katie Theule, photographer [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.