image: angelsover (pixabay)

cobalt isn’t my
favorite
color

it’s not even best
blue in the
book

but sound of it spoken is
a feeling worth
painting,

if only to share with
those who feel
color too,

cobalt’s not my
favorite
word..

“lighten up, take
a load off,”

are you truly so
courteous..

or recommending
weight loss?

it’s hard to tell
in each
case

your grin flakes
of frost,
so..

i’ll assume the best
incase my

trust in us
thaws.

image: webentwicklerin (pixabay)
image: TeeFarm (pixabay)

twisting
rind-

wrung last drop
from the
clock,

first sip passed
me by,

knees quiver..
i’m fine..

but could you
ease off

with busy
talk,

i’m..

Out of Time

Morning Breath

image: StockSnap (pixabay)

cast watchful eye
through the
night

when morning
blinks

i’ll pick up the
battle,

please, a few more
winks, so
that

i may be
able.

****

perched atop
fencepost-

view from this calm-
worth any
climb,

journey’s slow
to growth,

if we can breathe,
we’ve got
time.

****

words trampling
words

too bound or boxy
to describe

what needs revival
to survive

another kick in
the name-

amidst flaring up
of prides.

****

truth’s shadow
haunted

open
wounded

we shelved
storms-

tin soldiered on,

both living dolls with
spinning heads

dizzy puppets, eye
hanging by a
thread.

****

bristles of lids, half-split
sockets unlit-

still, stars twinkle upon
future screened

just fragments scattered
through sleep,

and no fresher is night’s
breath by morning.

the reel keeps on rolling..

delivered sick and
pale from
jail-

recess rings,
in run the fools,

a bored boy drifts
from dream
to dream

’bout being home
schooled,

introverted and
perverse-

fingers over
flames?

red hand, deep
in daddy’s
purse?

tell me..

which burns
worse.

image: paulbr75 (pixabay)

another stone
chipped
off

cliff perched
over

sea of blue
bricks,

dark gravel skies
answer no
why’s?

this rush of
relief..

just pepper and chalk
where stood

rows of
teeth.

image: StockSharp (pixabay)
image: ArtsyBee (pixabay)

tailor’s
out

of golden
straw,

it’s a faithful
fool foil-

still spinning that
old wheel

’til it screeches
to seizure
from

lack of
oil.

Patent Pending

image: ColdSmiling (pixabay)

in restless shakes,
so word
sick

lips boiling
bubbles,

echoes of baby
mumbling

behind travel guides
with worldly
minds-

stream of colors bled
from dreams..

brush the eyes in a
patchwork sky-

keeps them wide
and wet like
mine.