What the Duck?

Overly Dramatic...because I can with GIF's!

More Alcohol or Bullets?

Life is a mix of the Yen and Yang,
The Grizzly, the teddy bear…
The lie once told, the honesty,
“It hurts me, but I don’t care”!

People mourn your happiness
Then celebrate friend’s fails…
We reach out to life’s victims
Hiding the rescuer’s trails.

Some people give to charity,
Validating their place on top…
The grizzly eats the teddy bear
Your pain, a political prop.

How do we explain away our lies,
Blame alcohol for what we said?
Or realize all men are liars
Taking real bullets to the head.

Nest Building

Most of our youth was spent begging;
Loudest singers, eating the best…
Feathered up and so secure,
‘Till that day we fell from the nest.

We joined the winter migrations,
Fine tuning our wings for flight…
Journeying to foreign countries,
Some by day, others flying by night.

En masse we followed the north star,
Returning to our birthplace each spring…
Plucking feathers from our own backs,
Collecting curious twigs and string.

Coupled in pairs we were weavers,
Braiding strings into walls for a home…
Eventually the eggs were laid,
We sat waiting, hungry; so alone.

Over time, the new chicks hatched,
Feathered up and fell to the ground…
Time circled round the seasons again,
Next year, they couldn’t be found.

Record Breaking/Bieber Aching

Weather changes ‘round the world;
The news this year, earth shaking…
Tornados, frosts and cities flooding,
Untold destruction, records breaking.

Too many people on the planet;
The world off balance from the norms…
Pushed our ways on every country,
Our greed’s creating perfect storms.

Justin Bieber praised his god tonight;
He is the “chosen” teenage star…
He must think god hates a billion others
By making their lives hell so far.

Facebook

Donald changed his profile picture,
Seven times for some reason today…
He’s trying to be the “interesting” friend,
But his past comments won’t go away.

Helen and Bryan leave cryptic notes,
Creating some worry and mystery…
Julie composed a new FB profile
Totally rewriting her sin tainted history.

Dennis posed on a mountain top,
Most athletic man of all time…
A journey deep in his photo file,
Finds him face down on a vomited lime.

Ramona reminds her friends of events,
Please call her, she lives so near…
Ron posts his Farmville statistics
Just hoping someone will hear.

The Fuller family is all about dogs,
Three this year were Best of Show…
Gene sent a “Ha! I found you” post,
To rekindle love lost, long ago.

Janice clicked on the search tab,
To locate her charming prom date…
Only to find a memorial page,
Discovering social media, too late.

Spring Rain and Donna Reed

Silver

The cove this morning, a sliver…
Seamless vein of sterling silver
Whitish chunks of driftwood;
Titanics on a Tantric river.

Mountains, boats and Penn Cove Pier,
Shine in graphite gray and white.
Illuminated with the morning sun,
Charcoal’s dim lit stormy night.

Dark blue turns to gray scale,
Eventually turning hues titanium.
The world returns to silver,
On this full moon splashed uranium.

Beams lowered from the heavens
Spray the water with pure zincs,
Temperature rises with the tide,
The spirit surfaces, then sinks.

Spinnakers

Children are like sail boats,
Sailing towards goals all black and white.
Facing the wind in mid life
Spinnaker sails unfold, to colors bright.

We only see their failures,
We criticize every move and turn,
Never realizing all our dreams for them
Are processed as they learn.

We want to lock their rudders,
Control them with advice we lend…
Forgetting all the knowledge we shared,
Depends so much upon the wind.

Sketched

Time is sketching new lines,
Deeper wrinkles on my face…
The colored hues are fading,
The grey tones are in place.

Life is an evolving artist,
Changing as the years take wing…
Forcing us to see our truths,
Time will not embellish anything.

My face illustrates a novel,
Longing so much to be read…
Untold tales behind the eyes,
Sagas of the lives I’ve led.

Vanilla

Oh life is so finite, the things I’ll miss…
The ocean’s scent, the waves in motion,
The incredible rush of “Maybe love”,
The private cove before the breeze,
Blew sand onto my suntan lotion.

I’ll miss my collection of personal things,
First ant farm, old toys and teddy bear,
The thrill of buying a new car,
That taste of real independence
Youth’s ticket to move anywhere.

I don’t want to miss material things,
Like Imelda’s shoes, left behind in Manila…
I want to remember a compliment,
Conquering an incredible challenge,
And most of all, the smell of vanilla.