Pyracantha

Pyracantha Berries at Xmas sunrise in Palo Cedro, California

 

The frozen water clings to the berries

 

As the sun rises and warms the air

 

And gives the Pyracantha the jewel quality

It worked so hard to achieve.

But don't be fooled
By Pyracantha's jewels.
She stole them from the air.
And she didn't care
If the air cried
Glistening tears.
Pyracantha keeps her teeth

Well hidden underneath

Her bright red berries 

That can only be eaten

By the red hooded fairies.

Loquacious Pot

Come with me to a sacred spot

Where your muse stirs her loquacious pot

Of stories with scenes for heart and soul.

She anxiously waits to pour them

Into your bowl

Of paper and pen.
Come with me then

To her sacred place

And meet your muse, face to face.
You’ll be amazed and maybe confused

At the power that must never be abused

When stirring up the stories

Of magical glories

In her loquacious pot.

Come with me now to a sacred spot.

Xmas Failure

When I was in the 7^th grade, my mother gave me some money, some of dad’s Xmas money that he received from his postal patrons. She told me to go downtown and buy Christmas presents for my three little brothers. (My sister was not born yet.)
I proudly showed the presents to my mother. “And this one is for Ricky. (He was in the 4^th grade) He likes to play with fire,” I said, “and he likes to draw, so I know he’ll like this.”

She sighed heavily as she held the wood burning kit. “That is why you can’t give it him,” she said. “He won’t stop at burning designs on the wood in this kit. You know that he will burn the house down when he tries to burn a picture on the wall, or on the furniture, or on a piece of paper.”

My shoulders sagged. I hadn’t thought about that when I bought the gift for him. "Remember, last week, how he almost caught the house on fire when he ran after the fire truck that came down the street and he forgot to turn off the stove?"
"Yeah!" I said. "You were at the store and our neighbor came over when he saw the smoke."
"You can buy him something else that he can't burn the house down with."

Hair Is Overrated

Hair is overrated,
All too often degraded,
Curled and straightened
Until its luster has faded.
We cut it,
Shape it,
Color it,
And strip it
Of its beauty,
Of Its curls,
And natural swirls.
And as we age
We scream and rage
When our hair thins out.
We cringe and shout.
For what?
A mop?
A top?
Please stop!
As we grow older,
Our minds grow bolder
As hair falls off our shoulder
Because we don't need it any longer.
God gave us beautiful heads.
When we were born
Our heads looked already shorn
Because they were already
Beautiful
Without the hair.

R.I.P.

R.I.P.

What if we don't rest in peace

when our bodies die?

I have to ask the question, Why?

Our bodies will be useless

when they are buried

Or have gone up in smoke.

What if this is all a joke?

What if we die
We "wake up" from this lie
and see it was just a dream?

Do you know what I mean?

What if this existence

That we call life,

Is a total illusion

Mixed with fun and strife.

What if we don't die at all?

What if we can fly or crawl

Swim or sail or do nothing at all

because we are free

from the confines of a body.

I hope I do not R.I.P.

When I leave my body.

I know where I'll go.

I've been there already.
But I keep forgetting

what it's like.
I know that is necessary

To keep our illusion of life alive.
Thus we continue to strive

To make a better world

for the human race

just in case

This is not an illusion.

God's Coyote In My Head

Camari wrote, “God will reward everything you do in private. The times you've helped people, cleaned up for someone, extended yourself beyond your means...everything you've done to help make someone's else's life easier - WITHOUT a thank you - God sees it. I believe that.”

There be a wild and silly coyote in me head,
Who made me giggle at what I read.
What I saw in her written text
Is quite funny.

When I read what's next,
I laughed a little more,
As if God opened a door
To silliness.
If what I do in private
God looks and sees
Then, private it cannot be,
Because God would be
sneaking, and peeking at me.
Or it could mean
That God will give me a reward
In a secret place
Filled with grace
That no one can see.
Except, maybe me.
Or the meaning might be
That no one need see
The good that I do
For others or for you
Because God and me
Are buddies. You see?
So it doesn't matter
If I receive gratitude
It won't affect my attitude.
Life is wonderfully silly.
God's coyote told me so
When he was all aglow
Playing and being silly with me.