Rituals

The students are desperate
Desperate for some semblance of normality
The clock strikes twelve, and as one
They turn toward the statue and bow

Water World

Veins stretched across an open land
Waves crashing on an ocean spray
Reach for the skies, mister
Heaven giveth and heaven taketh away

Whether peat, or clay, or lime, or sand
Cradle the body, rock to sleep
The test of time, the toll, the toil
Catch the fallen, the clouds will weep

Babbling brooks, raging rivers
Tributaries and channels
The streams that flow through the garden of Eden
Carving canyons, valleys, canals

Worship the way of the world
Sit back and admire
The lifeblood, the death knell, purgatory
Earth, wind, and fire

A drink, a drink! A toast, a toast!
To the fens that hath begotten
The swamp around us, all sticks and stones
Gone but not forgotten

Dusk

Crimson skies blanket the mountains
Long shadows cross the lawn
Light fades to a whisper
A faint echo fractured through tangled branches

Bound by time
The darkness looms

Grainy vision begets grainy thoughts
A fawn hesitates beneath the stories of old
The dance of the fireflies tempt the stars to earth
Until we meet again

Hurry down sunshine
Let’s see what tomorrow brings

Bumper to Bumper

Phillip stepped out onto the veranda and coughed
His eyes struggled to focus in the mid-morning light
Scanning the garden, he affixed his gaze on two squirrels
Along the fence
Across the lawn
Up and down the trunk of an ancient walnut tree
They cavorted
What a commotion! he thought to himself
Before heading back inside and pouring another hot drink

Vernal Pool

Moonlight mirrored on the still water
Serpents patrol the slowly receding banks
Beauty lies beyond the eye
Frogs fill the air

Willful abandon
Monotonous regularity
A spectacle, a display, a cacophony, a chorus
To be heard, to be seen, a chance at immortality
Love is an afterthought
Most vie in vain

A Divisive Figure

Listen to the crackpot, his hairbrained schemes
Listen to the crackpot’s uninterpretable dreams
Behold his muttered utterances
Behold his spluttered gutterances
Never flustered, he’s mustered a lack-lustered bluster

Enraged, incensed, ignorant bliss
Hugs for free, fiver for a kiss
The walls come in, the tides go out
Bats in the belfry, rats up the spout

Thoughts on this, thoughts on that
A tailor’s dummy in a porkpie hat
Thoughts to the contrary, thoughts in line
The straw on the backbone, sign of the time
A scarecrow’s apprentice in search of a spine
Will do just fine
We’ll do just fine

Listen to the crackpot blather
Listen to the crackpot’s father
Listen to the crackpot rather
As the masses he tries to gather
Listen to the crackpot babble, dabble, empower the rabble
Listen to the crackpot slaver

A helping hand
To make the last stand
Dangling from a rope of sand
Won’t it be grand?
Yes, and…

Shades of Green

Stain-glass canopies split the sun’s rays
Glistening crowns in the valley of kings
The forest whispers
As midsummer’s breeze ebbs and flows
An eagle soars
The sun slowly sets
And the vast sky is blue and sentimental

Nature’s soul is at the center of mine
Never to turn away
Trample the bodies of the fallen
Trample the promise of a fresh start
The first of new beginnings
The last reminder of times gone

Stands turn to sways signaling storms on the horizon
A change of pace, a change of mood
Motion is all that remains

Blue Lives, Blurred Lines

Pity the plight of the po-lice
In court they look so awfully sad
Guilty until proven innocent
It’s political correctness gone mad

Pity the plight of the po-lice
Don’t act if you can’t do the time
If we lock them away for the rest of their life
They’ll think twice before committing a crime

Their riot gear is starting to crumble
Their tear gas has long since expired
Can’t do our jobs anymore, they mumble
To fire is to risk getting fired

A face of mace, a kick in the groin
Choked and pinned to the floor
Immigrants, criminals, what’s the difference?
We’ll find out once we kick down your door

These bastards deserve nothing less
Plead the fifth, plead for mercy, plead for more
The thin blue line meets the man with no name
Don’t you know we’re the good guys? they implore

Pity the plight of the po-lice
Keep your hands up, coz we shoot to kill
A high school dropout, bullied as a kid
Revenge is sweet, it’s a thrill

Pity the plight of the po-lice
Without us, they angrily hiss
The world would descend into chaos
But let’s hope chaos is better than this

The Dragon Awakes

Gazing to infinity
The mosaic of time lies etched across his features
As sand and stone collide
Life and love exist at the edge of nature’s dominion
Where giants fear to tread, the earth flows like wine
And he stands
Steeped in the struggles of a thousand suns

Colorful Language

Welcome to Poetry Corner!

Three of the nine Muses from ancient Greek mythology were dedicated to poetry. In our everyday lives language is often clumsy, vulgar, and limited. But in the right hands, the beauty of words is revealed. Song lyrics can stir the soul, written prose can enrapture the imagination.

As a biologist,  my primary source of inspiration, what I would consider the ultimate muse, is the natural world. The majesty of life on Earth is impossible to fully capture, even with a sizeable lexicon, but some literary greats before me have achieved heroic feats in the attempt. Here is my small contribution to that ongoing exploration and evolution of the English vernacular.

Enjoy!