Poem-a-Week: A Twofer of Poems and the Horizon Before Sunrise

If you live here in Arkansas as I do, you know this last week has had a couple of days that have been fricking hot. Twice, Kellie and I have been out for our daily three mile hike before the sun has even peeped over the horizon. The picture above is one that I took this week with the sun still hiding behind the distant hills. Now, how's about a poem? ENJOY!

Not Much Good Advice

Our actions seem so hollow

With no hope or dream to follow

And all our follies blessed with obscene laughter.

Our short lives become abysses

With so many shots and misses

That we hardly seem to know what we were after.

We do not accept the curse

Of living in a universe

That will never hear the signals we are sending.

Our world is one of many stones

That will absorb our trifling bones

And nullify our being in its blending.

So, now, what is my advice

To transcend this loaded dice?

I’m sorry but, my friends, I don’t have much.

Fill your life with love and peace,

Find a passion for release,

And never push away a lover’s touch.

Yes, I am still trying to stay away from nature poems since we just made a whole book of them, but I have to admit that random daily observances aren't my forte.

Here is another picture before sunrise. This one is at the park, and a little later than the previous one, but the sun was still well below the horizon.

A Nursery Rhyme of Thinking and Drinking

I lay my poems in a jagged column.

I hardly make a single one that’s solemn.

The sun’s the only thing I make of fire.

I find fervor wrapped in blossoms,

But I never wrote of ‘possums

Nor skunks though I am feeling the desire.

No doubt, I smell the way my notions stink,

The world’s too full of smelly stuff, I think,

And I’ve enough of black and white for all.

But I feel sunshine from above,

I smell bierocks# stuffed with love,

And in my item bag, a Master ball.*

Now, I am weary and a little drunk.

My hope of writing worthwhile verse is sunk

Because my words were spilled in brackish cups.

Here’s one taste of alcohol,

A small tumbler shot for all,

But I will dance with anyone who sups.

# A stuffed roll all you German folks should know!

*For all you Pokemon Go fans!

So, don't even bother asking me where that poem came from. It was in my mind. I wrote it, and I have already changed the words ten times as if it were worth the trouble. Who knows, somebody might like it?

This week, Kellie finished editing Uncle Boog and the Dogfight. I sent in the revised version marked "Last Edit." Within two weeks, we should be publishing Uncle Boog. I sure would appreciate if you folks would help me get the word out when the time comes.