of 3 o’clock and red leaves

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

we both waited a lifetime, do we
proceed, or do we stop at
3:00?

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

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

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

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

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under a calico sky

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

forgotten

 

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

typewriter,

 

black ribbon presses words onto empty

paper

 

a poem takes shape like the expression on

forgotten remembrances,

 

finished, my eyes close…

 

Copyright © 06/06/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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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

children

 

where Tennyson holds up

pictures

 

of fairy tales;

 

horse and buggies sit quiet

on dirt streets

 

as a circus caravan leaves

wagon wheel metal

 

marks

 

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,

inside,

 

clowns come out of cartoon

buildings,

 

horses and hoops of fire,

they jump through

like moths through a lantern

light,

 

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,

slipped

 

fell to a sound of a crackerjack

box tab pull

 

her epitaph makes ash and dust

her paper

 

husband to hold, rain cries like

tears

 

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®

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Apparition

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®
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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®

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excerpt of #35

her way.

 

my

soul.

 

like a ladder up against

a barn door

 

can we climb it

or will the

rungs

 

be neatly sawed in

half.

 

paintbrush drips

half into an

empty

 

paint can

half into

the

 

ground−

 

similar to a

promise

 

that might be kept;

 

i look up at the sun

and swallow

the

 

light,

 

it warms me…

 

i push back her hair

with closed eyes

 

my heart skips like

a needle

on a 78

 

she runs her hand

half−blind

 

down my face

down my

emotions;

 

the paint dripping

sets the pace

 

for a wet kiss

 

i carry her under

awaiting

sheets

 

touch like

a dirty

paintbrush

 

love enters

with the same

 

feeling as a

footprint on

 

a deserted beach;

 

after,

 

wrapped up

tight

 

wrapped up

sweaty,

 

her way.

 

my

soul…

 

Copyright © 05/10/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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