of 3 o’clock and red leaves

only of time can i talk about a clock,
of air crisp that snaps wafted

wet of water drops that glide off and
moisten red leaves, they drink

clouds float into my life where one rides
on colors, for i know i shall meet

she comes to me on melodious fabric
of woven light, with purity of

sent by our heavenly father, in all
his glory, the sanctity of

he purifies our thoughts, everything
shall be well, we are united as

she and i sit beneath shade and the
gentle calmness of a vast

but, the time is ticking, then stops
where one stops at a

we both waited a lifetime, do we
proceed, or do we stop at

God touches us both with gentle
hands, “forsake not this

my love and i walk among splendorous
things, her hand in mine,

new beginning, leaves blossom, as does
our love for each

Copyright © 08/21/2013 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®


under a calico sky

cloud bank
heaven floats in a river,
streak of wind
sails on sky fabric,
my love looks
above, light cascades
lights a lantern
she is no longer in 
her tender hands hold
a red dress
she is a beacon on 
craggy rock;
mist of a dream rolls
in on air,
same air as the angels
sun breaks through clouds,
they retreat 
as to lapping waves in 
a canyon
i diminish the distance by
on transparent wings
birds depart as i descend,
summer rain
softly blankets us as we
golden stairs,
sunbeam slants, color of
a new dawn;
straight up into a calico
i am suspended in her love…
Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

Joffe Cameron’s Most Unusual Occurrences

stars leaned back too far on old rocking chairs

and collapsed into a black hole


their light emptied into a sea,


a man puts on a diving suit and submerges,

needs flame for a candle


so his children can eat cornflakes when the

sun is late,


it missed the 4:15 a.m. train, fell asleep in a

station where newspaper


headlines read like stereo instructions;


dogs don’t tell lies when holding black and

white stories in their mouths,


burnt cinder in an ad from a sun’s request


family skeletons hiding in darkened closets,

afraid of the obituaries;


teachers in one thought classrooms tearing

pages out of text books,


paper airplanes fly out of wooden sashed 

windows searching


for the truth,


gray suited historians aiming shotgun shells

at unidentified flying aircraft,


air raid sirens sound;


i look up into a sky where stars once where,

a quickly burning match


singes fingers that have labored a lifetime,


the charcoal is black like memories i’ve



she was in a piece of broken glass lying

in a doorway,


nails no longer holding paint, fall and break

away her smile


i cut myself on a sharp edge as i try to fit

remaining glass into


a frame on a warped door,


her tears cleanse my unhappiness, yet

i am in solitude


old brick beneath my feet turns to sand,

i sink into a room


behind a desk


candlelight cloaks keys on an aging



black ribbon presses words onto empty



a poem takes shape like the expression on

forgotten remembrances,


finished, my eyes close…


Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


light of day

she walks through the worm earth

dirt with a circus mind


crippling headache like a roar

of tigers


eats a bag of peanuts while

elephants starve


she watches a saw bone man fix

broken acrobats


who trapeze onto straw floors


smells a thousand miles of

rail track


and smoke;


train stations orphanages to



where Tennyson holds up



of fairy tales;


horse and buggies sit quiet

on dirt streets


as a circus caravan leaves

wagon wheel metal




sideshow freaks a confusing

swirl of ugly


and bizarre


hookie school children watch

from behind nails


and crooked boards;


air slams on big top canvas,



clowns come out of cartoon



horses and hoops of fire,

they jump through

like moths through a lantern



in a gilded cage, lions pace

with memories


audience puts its clapping in

mason jars,


grocer sells on shelves next

to old cans of soup;


she was a high−wire performer,



fell to a sound of a crackerjack

box tab pull


her epitaph makes ash and dust

her paper


husband to hold, rain cries like



stands with flowers, reads a poem,


“i sleep in your sounds that

call me

i swallow your voice,

your love

i forget this world and dream of

your eyes kissing me

your soul is liquid thirst in

my heart”


light of day paints earth,

he feels


her breath, her touch,

a loving silence.


Copyright © 05/25/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®



Read the news, oh boy

An unlucky man was at

the wrong place at the

wrong time – was sitting

at a traffic light, cable

snapped; light swung

down, went right thru

his windshield; drove

him into the back seat.


Had time to pull out

His wallet and kiss his

wife and kids goodbye

he was in an apparent

state of suspended

animation; looked at

the windshield’s glass

right in front of his face;

the light was still green.


All pedestrians and

Motorists had horrific

painted expressions;

couldn’t believe what

had happened – must

have been a freak of

nature; he was in mid

air when all came to a

halt; nothing moved.


Now was a good time

For him to reflect on

his life – what could he

have done differently or

better and what about all

those he owed money to,

including me; maybe we’ll

lift his wallet at the viewing

if he doesn’t make it.


All of a sudden, everything

Was back to semi- normal, he

was back sitting at that traffic

light –  same scene, the same

scenario; identical to the one

he had been through a dozen

times before; was now no more

than an apparition; he had died

at that exact spot 12 years before.


Copyright © 05/14/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

Wooden Animals

God saw the great wickedness

Decided to wipe-out mankind

However one righteous man 

Found favor in God’s eyes

Gave very specific instructions

In preparation for a catastrophic flood

Noah built a boat quite wooden

Brought into the ark two of all wooden creatures

Female and male – diverse varieties of animals

Moved mechanically up and down;

You think a wooden animal

Is a simple thing

Wooden masks

Wooden decoys

Terrific colors, magnificent

Animals painted withdrawn and shy

Close together

Sailed the skies;

After they entered the ark

Noah cocked his eye and said, “looks like rain”

For a period of forty days and nights

Sailed on a river of darkened light

Salt water under it

Once it was a boat, quite wooden

With no business

In need of some paint

I am sorry, but it was morning

I had nothing to do

And its wooden beams were so inviting

Hoisted her, rigged her

Seen the floating ships before

And nothing will ever be the same

Never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth

As a sign of this everlasting covenant God set a rainbow in the clouded sky

The flood subsided

And the wooden animals

Like worn sea-shells

Emerged strange and lovely

Atop Ararat

Disembarked from a ship of courage.
Copyright © 05/10/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®



excerpt of #35

her way.





like a ladder up against

a barn door


can we climb it

or will the



be neatly sawed in



paintbrush drips

half into an



paint can

half into





similar to a



that might be kept;


i look up at the sun

and swallow





it warms me…


i push back her hair

with closed eyes


my heart skips like

a needle

on a 78


she runs her hand



down my face

down my



the paint dripping

sets the pace


for a wet kiss


i carry her under




touch like

a dirty



love enters

with the same


feeling as a

footprint on


a deserted beach;




wrapped up



wrapped up



her way.





Copyright © 05/10/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


in your eyes (completely freestyle)

blue ocean eyes, 
skies bend as they meet the sea
deeds of a morning dew,
black feathers do not meet
she rummages the earth,
in my walking, i travel slow
voices with which you speak,
narrow cages are always in dark corners
in my eyes i care not to see judgment,
when evening lulls i sleep not
if i touch her she is tender,
in narrow loneliness she takes away the light
cold wind enters through closed doors,
she writes of lost words once upon
sometimes she loved me with her eyes,
i carry a key in my pocket for something
in my grief and vain she was a miracle,
one looks for destiny, for twilight
first stars in a sky flash like my soul,
in your eyes i see damp walls of tears
white hills in winter lie in surrender,
old men wither in young clothes.
Copyright © 05/02/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

10 MPH

dog-pawed fog an apparatus for extinguishing point ‘b’,
much like an asphalt highway apparatus
extinguishing a tire skid mark;
wind and sea stomping on a cold shore,
distant town for a visit an eternity away,
10 MPH;
dented pots on old kitchen tables catching black 
drizzle, flakes from roofing drift
down, losing their grip on a slick, wet surface,
like the inebriated in a dirty city;
pedestrian feet splashing puddles on turn signal
blinkers, now phantom lights
mud sliding down a hill, jaywalks across the 
mud spreads like a flat cake in an unheated oven,
road emergency man shaving with a cordless
razor while wipers run out of breath;
town streets now as if tidal waters, 
umbrellas with broken spokes,
mood, dampened and ill tempered;
fog drooping off of street lights,
fields like sponges, no need
for the ploughboy;
rescue workers much like apprentices,
learning their way as they go
thresholds become piers,
amphibious vehicles like
passing ships
looking for survivors, fog in their
eyes and throat,
choking, blinding;
then suddenly, light and clearing,
drowns the fog and rain,
a new bright day, but took 10 MPH
to get here.
Copyright © 04/24/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

dream thief

the dream thief spell binder lives
invisible in a meadow green with 
promises stolen among the lying 
luring with the false light of
dreams never meant to be,
leaving behind the skeletons
of wishes rusting and hidden
in the lying grass,
much like the rusting bicycle 
sitting on its side, no more a
person’s reason set to
the hands of the weeds grasp
as-to detain, the bell on the 
handlebar now silent,
as silent as the black crow fly;
sunlight cast, yet by spoked
wheel, the dark remains,
clouds roll in slowly as-if
turning like bent wheel 
front flattened,
the air around slowly leaking,
both sky and tire gasping,
gasping to breathe;
little boy delivery now in an
older man’s clothes comes 
to rescue the bicycle, his
the lantern flickers no more…
Copyright © 02/19/2013 Barbara Sutton and Lance Sheridan