They saw me spin the woolen air,
They watched me split the stream.

They pickled in love of unfair,
They stewed in angry dreams.

They chased me with their clouded thoughts,
They roared and ran their rage.

They gladly tied themselves in knots,
They proudly raised their cage.

They wouldn’t free a word I prayed,
They couldn’t let that be.

The only thing I know of They –
I can’t let They be Me.

A sunk boat doesn’t leak.
Some may find that loophole weak
But the adventuresome must venture from
The well worn ways in manners smart and dumb.
The sea gives what it wants to give.
Life is perilously lived.
Carefully or carefreely tread
But all hangs on a thread.
Klake cut her line and drove her prow
Into dark that proudly vowed,
“This will get darker still.”
Klake simply smiled and duly filled
Her ship with all unknowns,
Knocking guiding stars from thrones,
Rocking crooked and the straight,
Locking Fate out of its Fate.
Ship and resolve still firm,
They broke free from feeding worms
As they cracked through and dropped
Into a valley, sailed up a mountaintop,
Then were splashing through the clouds,
Quickly crashing through the crowds
Of sunlight gathered round,
Astounded by this ship unbound
From sea and land and laws,
And flying freely on its flaws.

Before they sank into the sky
Klake had her cargo to let fly –

She let go of her unknowns,
They gladly soared off on their own,
And we’re left lucky to have more
Great unknowns to go explore.

Few ocean explorers leave the top sea.
Klake found that turvy-topsy.
The surface is crowded!
Now you may ask, “How did
Klake find her way down?
She wasn’t just kidding around?”
Your questions are the best!
We’ll answer all before we rest.
The best kept secrets are all known,
Not by brains but by the bones.
Most captains want a ship that floats.
Klake bought a leaking boat.
She sailed it till it sank,
Rode it down to the explorer’s bank.
Mid-sea holds great charm
As the strong and able arm
Pointing straight down to the floor
Where Klake sail-sank to her aimed for shore.
She landed then again set sail,
Diving past all fish and whales,
She split the strongest of all dams,
Now sliding by great worms and clams.

She’s taken the explorer’s turn.
That’s all we’ll know till she returns.

Dream bigger than a sleeper.
There’s deep and then there’s deeper.
The bottom’s where you let it be.
The top’s the same, try and see.

The third collection of LMM poems is now available in print and for your Kindle!  It includes the last 100 poems posted to this site.  Enjoy!

Get the book on Amazon.

It could be words.
It could be better.
I tell myself
We’re all together
Then hide away
With clever letters.

It could be words.
They do connect.
However many
I do collect
They aren’t quite life
Though quite correct.

It could be words.
They’re all my loves.
Words could do
But doing does.

It could be worse.
It could be better.
Either way
We’re all together.

There’s a place where dreams escape
When they have need to be.
Creatures that don’t fit a shape,
Great beasts outgrowing trees,
Feasting on the purple earth
And sucking down the seas,
Where fish feed on dark clouds worth
Far more than thunder’s keys.
Birds sing to bring the sun close,
They’ve gulped full moons with ease,
And will have sun soon they boast,
On toast with Swiss Alp cheese.
They’ll go back to sleep to swing
In minds long lost to zzzs.
Dreams are hungry, hungry things
And all too hard to please.

Illustration by JM.

If you’ve wound yourself tight
Or something’s prohibiting,
Set yourself right
And just start scribbling.

When your days aren’t yours
And life gets stifling,
You’ll find new doors
When you get your brain wiggling.

Put down paper and follow the pen,
You’ll find yourself piggying
On unknowns and then
The ideas will start nibbling.

Indeed you’ll go pivoting
From all things limiting
To an endlessly riveting
Idea pond ribbiting.

So just start scribbling.

“Give up” is an expression
In need of language lessons.
“Give” is good and “up” ain’t bad,
So how the two go and add
Up to quitting or despair
Seems to me a bit unfair.
But this looks an easy game,
So I’ll join in all the same –

When things get rough, laugh sideways.
You think you’re tough? Half pie days!
I have to say that I fly grapes,
Sneezed the night, work for drapes,
Tickle truffles, trick turnips,
And give every one of my ups.

If you do give up, okay.
I look forward to your next play.
But the phrase displays
Displaced dismay
That if it’s not word vomit
Means its makers gave up on it.

I need a cave,
By seed or grave,
Sly deed or brave,
I need a way
Out of the day,
Off the display,
Into the safe.

I’ll be a high-kneed crick,
A sing-song bat,
A clawful bear.
I’ll not be sorry-sick,
Hollow or flat,
Or awful scared.

Some fear the dark
Or feel themselves
Trapped inside an outside.
I hear the heart
As it delves
Into a holy-hide.

I need away,
Sly deed or brave,
By seed or grave,
I need a cave.