Cat Tiger

Your whisper pounds my heart's rood
Rushing throbbed tsunamis throughout
So that the pulsing of my tepid blood
Expands even whisper into a shout.
...

Missing you prevents me
From missing minor things-
Like pressing worldly issues
Or messages from kings-
...

If you'd like to know about August
I can show you chrysanthemums
Covered with dust, or Rosy Dawn
Coming late and leaving the
...

Grow young with me, my Cohort,
It's life's most satisfying joy
Vying the ravages of Time.
...

You’ve completed a task
Set four long, hard years ago
To prove that you can last
In life’s commercial show.
...

This is not a contest.
No reason to see who can resist
The pleasure of a kissed response.
Or the look of knowing
...

Of all the things we might call ours
None are so precious as soft Spring flowers;
They push up through the cold, damp earth
and bring beauty where once was dearth.
...

You know me better than I know myself
So how should I engage you?
You know my thoughts, my desires
So well that my expressions seem
...

Good people hold sway
Don't wade into the fray
Get a grip and pray
it's 'Bad Poetry Day'
...

Doors to our past hide myriad thoughts.

We see beyond into smoky rooms
Of happy faces or scenes distraught
...

A feeling of warm significance
Runs through my body and soul
An Angel of such magnificence
Makes this shattered spirit whole.
...

White tufted evergreens and crystal trees
glisten along the cloudy horizon
White lawns, roofs spray a snowy breeze
As glazed streets issue traffic along.
...

I stand agasp
While love slips as fine white sand
between my fingers.
...

I have a new instrument, all gleeming and oiled
So finely tuned, a wrong touch, tone is spoiled
But to hold with deftness and stroke with skill
Then music resounds across valley and hill
...

The Raging Chippewa swells to rolling banks
As it rushes South, getting little thanks
From tree limbs softened by rain and snow,
Pulled off leaning trunks into iced water below.
...

In death
Trees dress
In yellow and red,
The people
...

Oh and I miss you!
You’re so lovely
In spirit and form
That I live for you.
...

There goes The Fan again
Could she stop?
Not on your chinny-chin-chin.
Her world is her apricot pie.
...

Oatmeal, oatmeal, food that's not real!
Alas! Alas! It's only crushed grass!
Even with salt, sugar and butter,
And even with milk from the cow's udder
...

As I watched the flower of her face,
Gorged by grass too tall,
Petal soft cheeks
against a hungry sky,
...