It's time to surf the thoughtful waves of life,
and bravely dive into its seven seas.
The fear that rising waters wash in strife,
would fleetly pass when gently laid in ease.

Then free yourself from strains upon the shores.
Once tired, anchor, give those bones a rest,
and lightly soothe the wrecks of heavy chores,
for hard is life, so get from it, its best.

Near the sea shore I stood alone,
with no one within a mile or more,
Looking at the sun sinking down,
Trying to hide in the depths of the sea.

The golden sand and the reddish sea,
Appeared to me quite heavenly.

Then I can hear the sea murmurs,
Calling me towards her.

Her tides crawl near the shore
To swallow the land more and more.

Now I walk alone to find a home,
Somewhere in this sandy sea shore.

I don't know whether I will live anymore,

Once you all switch to Free verse things will get worse
a curse
Loved has made all forget
what was poetry and verse
and
the best critique we all know,
will my cruci-fixation rehearse
ere that happens,
guys go back to your archaicity
and
leave my precious verse
to and for me...
I must thank thee
if you want to see
the bard survive in me...

Forest line
stretch like a taut ache
a hunger slipped with aces
and access desire
pulled against the crotch
and hip like the snout of
a holster warm

a walk perfumed and an eye
of fire
Caveat Venditor
how I adore
stature of splendour

Thank you for your service,
Your guidance and your grace.
Thank you for our history.
Your welcome to this place

Next time I go to Bingo,
I will truly look around.
I know of your museums,
Yet I play on sacred ground.

Thank you for your culture,
Your people's Benediction.
Thank you for your patience,
Forgive us our condition.

I wrote this as my personal poetic thought s upon Native American Week just last month. Will be nice to see what others think of my thoughts.

I've been sneezing for the last few minutes,
my eyes watering,
my nose running,
I think I've developed allergies
to my impending age,
there's so much more behind me
than
in front of me,
fewer ducks in a row.

At times things seem so convoluted
that my mind has wound the circuit
twice, before it's even entered
through the thought's front door

and words pour out in raging passion
all denying form or fashion
over paper pencil flashing
inspiration madly scores

Then sitting back, the write to mull on
mind now blank, the ideas all gone
poor formed symbols, woebegone
I understand one word in four

First two little real stories:-

A wise professor was asked:
What is the meaning of life?

He put his hand into his inner pocket
and pulled out a little piece of mirror
and told
that since he was little
this piece of mirror had followed him
wherever he went,
he often took it out
and tried to shine light into the dark corners;

this he felt he was doing for other people,
but that he was only a medium.

He then declared that this was his meaning of life.

Floating across the surface,
a human speck admist
flotsam and jetsam,
I drift away from you,
into the sunset where
I'd rather be.

The wind huffs again
in a little cough
urged by my pestering prayer.

Away, away I go,
with that cold bread
damp with sea-salt
and clenched by
a determined fist.

I watch the rays of sunlight
set to a redish hell
of playful lights,
dancing like water nymphs
across my face.

Apple trees in the back
bearing lip red fruit
sweeter than any sugar cane

A pear tree
in the front
small grass green fruit
growing off of it
its fruit often used
for batting practice

In the middle
a tree of peaches grows
with a small anti squirrel cone
around its middle
and the juicy ripe fruit
making these rodents’ mouths water

The small wooden arbor
of grapevines with their
bunches and bunches
of purple sour grapes
hanging there
too sour to be eaten