Refuge

it was a place
      of refuge
for those who
   broke tabu.

you'd run for
      your life
and you might
live another
   day or two.

   maybe a priest
would instruct
you in the error 
   of  your ways.

and if you learned 
      your lesson,
you might live 
   out your days.

      my world is
much different,

places of refuge
      are few and
   hard to find.

Yellow Roses

      symbolizing
friendship and 
   nothing else,

      yellow roses
 are a message, not
   always welcome.

she wanted red
      roses always,

   from everyone,
(symbolizing love).

she wanted 
      yellow too,
   
finding that
   money helped.

the world could  
   be her party,

      with many
shouts of joy.

she'd have liked that.
   party all the time.

      until it ended.

she will be missed, 
      by somebody.

Broken Bamboo 2018a

broken bamboo 
tops lie in a heap 
      on top of
fibrous roots,

   a wind-storm
   smashed that
bamboo grove.

we find the scene
   exotic and a
      little alien;
      this is not
our world.

years and miles 
   pass by too
   quickly we
      will learn;

a jungle cataract
      falls from a 
   towering cliff,

      its source
a mystery we'll
   never solve.

   this bamboo
doesn't care;

it grows again beside
      sweet lacey ferns,
a warm wind blows.

   we came so far
      and see (that's
how it goes).

      rain drops from
sudden clouds above 

as we drink it in,
   the gods are
      making love.

Five Pink Roses

roses: a claim
certainly to a
   kind of love.

      dressed up to 
show someone
   some kind of
sweet emotion

      wedding or
   funeral, this
feeling is alike,

   a dozen roses
means the same
as one, but costs
      a lot more.

   friend or family
resting in a box,
or beautiful lady,
   cute as any fox.

   roses: a claim
   certainly to a
      kind of love.

   dressed up to 
show someone
   some kind of
sweet emotion

Fire Air and Water

      a beach 
with no name,
where the lava
   flowed down
      to the sea,

   a secret place,
not on any map,

but a friendly
   local told us
      we should go.

   such a quiet,
private place
   in paradise!

no other tourists,
      we listened to
waves smashing
   on lava rocks

      the sound of
   seabirds and
the south pacific!

      a beach 
with no name,
where the lava
   flowed down
      to the sea,

   a secret place,
not on any map

Creekbed

under the cedars
   BX creek washes
   a very tiny world.

we step carefully,
      leaving no 
   footprints,

      witness to
our passing.

like ants, we
      walk our
pointless paths,
   insignificant
in many ways,

and like to think
      ourselves so
   important.

but we are not.

   a lttle water
      washes
rounded rocks,

the cedars know.
   that water is
      essential. 

we need it too,
cleansing and
      refreshing,

some kindness
   to our souls.

Solitary Skeleton

Solitary Skeleton

      under all the
      conifers, i see
a lonely skeleton,

   and understand
part of what i see.

      i myself have
a solitary aspect.
      my bones
   carry my flesh;

my body carries me.

a day will come,
      no doubt,
   when i too,
am stripped
      to bone,

like a mushroom,
      which i still
don't understand
   in full detail.

and though we all
   want company,
my day will come:

i will be solitary,
and go meet the 
      beautiful light.