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Showing posts from February, 2012

Boat

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A shell A dream Oar and water My friend We have Gone on adventures Through still and wild Wet and wonderful My soul Must go Back to water. ©Christopher Mitchell  2009, 2012

Majestic Nights

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Walking in at 3:00AM Drunk and hungry I place my order Washed out waitress ragged   No hope   Pouring a cup of hope and joy .   Majestic's reality The hookers and junkies Painted in their booths As the she passes them by No one speaks, breathes It might as well Be a cemetery Two over light Sausage and grits Fight the demons away At the end of the night I come back to her and say "You make me feel alive!"

Acela (Blogophilia 52.4)

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Acela arrives at Grand Central Shuffling off Looking for the 6 train Waiting to take him home. Silver bullet appears.   Magic doors open Pulse inhales him in. Drifting into a nap Dreaming of The un friendly ferrets in DC. Running like rabbits At the first hint of trouble. And nothing seen Is as it seems. Thoughts drift To Oak Beach The surf soothing his soul. Reverie is shattered By a detached female voice “No Stop until Brooklyn.” Crap. Wrong train again.

Chamboida

The yellow brick road Runs Northeast out of town Miss Liberty relocated south. For lower labor costs And friendlier atmosphere The rednecks are bewilered Nobody speaks English And their neighbors? Eat nothing but fish. The signs in twenty languages Are the new seed for The next generation. As everyone looks for the wizard Who isn't there.  © Christopher Mitchell 2010

Restaurant (GBE 39)

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In a restaurant Off Sunset She is there Looking out the window. Not expected Been too long Since you Walked out Pensive.  Alone She stares into Her coffee. Should you? Would you? Could you? Step up. To ask forgiveness? To Do it over? To start again? You walk away.

Virtue (Blogophilia 51.4)

Virtue is defined as a pattern or thought or behavior based on high moral standards. So, isn’t a virtue choked with something hypocritical? Like me eating other delicious hot Krispy Kreme doughnut , while bemoaning my waist? And dreaming of camping by the Grand Coulee dam, only to while my time here at the screen? Waste and sloth are not high moral standards in any religion. Even Atheists hate them. Maybe I should be doing something else?

Streetlights-Conclusion

Running through thick woods, he wondered why?  Branches and rocks littered the way, reaching up to grab and scratch his body.  Feet about 25 feet behind him.  Hurry up.  The fetid smell of rotted leaves and bodies ran up his nose as he jumped a large log.  The path cut sharply to the right here and broke into a large pasture.  He heard a thump and the cursing of his stepfather as he hit the log.   Across the field was an old farmhouse.  As he started towards it he wondered if there would be anyone there to help.  Over toward the right was a herd of cattle with a large bull standing guard.  The bull just stared as he came across.  As he approached the house, he could hear the clank of the shotgun.  He hits the steps…. “Randi!  Honey, are you alright? Wake up. “Kari asked as she shook him.  “You were yelling so loud I could hear you over the engine.  Anyway, we are at my house. Come on.  We’ll get you cleaned up.” Disoriented, Randi slapped out at the Geisha face.  She to

Autumn Lake

The sun is setting low As she sits on the moss covered bank Her line drifting with the blow Of the brisk autumn wind. She dips her toes in the cool water And sniffs the change in the air As the fire begins to burn behind her. Her partner has gone Her fields long been fallow She pauses and remembers As the light gradually fades. She takes her catch over to the fire Sets in on a small pan Translucent smoke rises above her As the vestiges of day come to the end. Finishing grace a sense of calm surrounds her An epiphany of life in Autumn. Her winter is coming and she knows it. And the hope of the grave.

Night Walk

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A quiet night walk Listening to the dog's conversation Under the full moon. The celestial sheet Of washed out grey Makes me remember you Of our nights  Of our days Of the anticipation Of what never was to be.

Asleep, A Haikai (Blogophilia 50.4)

Asleep on the shore Dolphin and shark awaken With all protection All thoughts of grandeur Swim lazily around me The storm is off shore Where there are humans There are flies, and Buddhas Which of these am I? The sun warms gently Wife approaches, saying harshly “Take out the trash!

The Transfer (Blogophilia 49.4)

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking.  We are on our final approach to Atlanta and Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.  We’ll be disembarking at gate E-63.  We at Delta Airlines appreciate you flying with us and we hope you will remember us for your travel needs.  Please prepare for landing…” The droning voice faded away. Bill had heard the speech too many times. Mechanically, he shut off his laptop and put it in his case.  He took one last sip from the soda can and gave it to the attendant.  There was weather and the view out the window was completely gray.  The only indication the plane had touched down was a small bump and the high pitched whine of the reversing engines.   It had been a long trip from Gatwick. And now there were three hours to spend in the terminal before connecting  to Louisville. At least he was going through Atlanta. You can actually find your way around there, compared to JFK or Newark.  Traffic from Aylesbury was worse tha