a poets playground

hunters’ moon

markswomen
huntsmen
this the moon
of orion

prepare
for
the warriors’ watch

prepare for
the bend
the arc
the curvature
of your bows
your quivers hold
an arsenal

track
this eve
under the hunters’ moon
with no game in sight

just a thought

it was just a thought
an after
a before
an in-between
wasn’t suppose
to create bedlam
didn’t have much meaning
was just a thought
blown
out of proportion
causing such a reaction
just a thought
wasn’t so abstract
that it should be

class

washed of color
not lost of light
grays sharpen
black defines
whites fade
discovering
one’s focus

uncover
the truth
that is lost
in the kaleidoscope of life
take away
the brilliance
the brightness
let
dullness unfold
revealing
a matte

stepping stones

what
what is blocking your way
what obstacle
won’t let you through

you’re only a stone’s
throw away
those obscure obstructions

it’s all in your mind
it’s all in your fears
that you might
not succeed

please
drop the excuses
drop the apologies
of

let’s be foolish

crazy
wacked
cracked
stupidly outrageous

who’s idea
was it
yours
hers
father times
mother’s wine

back-slapping silly

pour another glass
of that
belly laughing liquid

forget the toil & troubles
maybe
maybe

change – oh yes it will

reset
&
retune
let the baggage
and commotions
imbalances
and disharmony
of the past
be that
the past

flowing away
with the outgoing tide

energizing
under the full moon
breathing change
visualizing