an ode to the lesser joys

To that cheerful mutt who never fails to retrieve promptly
And yet it grips still, and oh so firmly, when asked to let go

To that gloriously relieving sneeze that comes finally after
Countless feverish breaths are held only for fizzled attempts

To scurry to the nearest shelter and watch, while the sky pours away
Or to perhaps not, and brave the many drops for a moment or more

When you take a step into that pristine bit of the woods
Where you turn around and look to find, more of the woods again

When that very last word of a lengthy good book has been read
And while you have ended with relief, you quickly wish for another

Waiting and more waiting, and less waiting when you know its almost there
And the loud ringing saves you, when the final bell has been struck in time

And the sight of misty mountains which not for once, ceases to bewilder
To the many hued sky dwindling, for the twinkling night will soon follow

twice gloomy

The day has suffered an early death
With the gray clouds growing forth
The sky is now rid with a displeasing hue
Of withering and livid ash

Trees make do breathing a stifling whiff
Of what was once perhaps a teeming breeze
The branches and the leaves seem to sway gently
To the whir of the chirping crickets

And no shadows cast in this light-less dusk
And pleasures no longer pleasurable
This morbid day casts its woe filled spell
Much like the reaper would claim a soul

And that is how it ends, listless and still
Waning in slow pace with nothingness, aplenty

Charlotte

Hungry for love, she wanders lonely dim-lit streets

Her thin lips stained scarlet shimmer gently between streaks

Of warm yellow and neon blue

The weary eyes speak for what she won’t voice

Her tired and desperate mind screams in that putrid pain

And every night, for every man who has enough

Get their fill of their wildest dreams, her nightmares

And for every night she goes without, she suffers

For the many more that she has to replace

But who now would deny, this amorous goddess

This woman who walks freely, or does she?

For her voluptuous self is admired far less

Than her fearful mind, and her desperate plea