rainy Sunday

deck woodgrain revealed
circles - linear array
raindrops from the roof

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

unequalled tide

been digging with impunity
through toxic spoil of war
I'm finely marbled with its rash
where innocence before
allowed me to believe a dream
of tides that lifted free
all watercraft both sound and whole
a flotilla marvelous to see

but eyes aloft see warring moons
demanding that we choose
and damn half of that wondrous fleet
pound them until they lose
all buoyancy
all pride and hope
and in despair they'll cease to float

will we be any higher

those moons with all their gravity
should feel the gaze from you and me
and each and every ship at sea
and focus on reality
enhancing opportunity
for each and every craft

'til then they're naught but warring moons
and I grow tired of their pull

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

social calculus

a smile
way better
than any flipped bird
any day
at all

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

on a molasses sea

Monday afternoon so slow
it shouldn't take this long to go
from lunchtime to the end of shift
feels as if I'm set adrift
upon an ocean bittersweet
viscous well beyond belief
next port of call so far away
many leagues until Friday

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

sterile rapture

chromatically compromised
divinity defined
the rainbow mess essential
to keep heart and mind aligned
with the signals life is beaming
not like sugar - too refined

truth is we need the fiber
to substantiate the weave
and the rhythm of the heartbeat
before we can receive
total spectrum of enlightenment
professing we believe

purity is interim
a step to fully ken
every laboratory aspect
pathway to achieving zen
but the meal is in the milieu
all the flavors gone awry
in the chaos is the wonder
and the love that lets us fly

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

Inspired by Please Don't Feed the Birds in Heaven or Anywhere Else by My Hashtagged Life

spring once more

in the orchard pastel blooms
as far as one can see
springtime hope for this year's crop
since winter's ceased to be
the bitter damper with her cold
and darkness that seeks to enfold
and quench the life from all of us

clearly blossoms on the tree
signal that fecundity's
return
despite the harsh white mistress
and her chilling interlude
which we've survived
with certitude

save one
in orchard's oldest plot
her gnarléd fingers naked
in the warming sun
so many seasons she has seen
and multitudes of crops have been
her progeny
enjoyed by one and all

winter's chill it seems
pervades her core
and stills the sacred rhythm
but for one small branch defiant
heavy with the pastel hope
and consummated
with a polygamy of bees
orgasmic in her final rite of spring

that is before she blazes forth
in winter's heart
her last defiance
in the hearth

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved

bleak

there is no poetry
in me
no meaning in the words
I see
no resonance
no alchemy
or any serendipity
for good

© 2018 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved