Poem for her 809

Dear Readers,


Summer flowers

The roses are in full bloom
Pink and white and some reds
Filling the tree lined hedge rows
There hidden by the brook
The pond has a few we planted too
Tea and wild flow in handfuls
The drawings she makes in our folder
The flowers pressed in sheets
The tea I make with buds and petals
The flowers seem to sweeten the room
They drift down hillsides all about
The forest comes alive as spring
...turns to summer blazing sun
Berries grow from the vines too
They will make jams and pies
Summer fruit salads and morning bites
Rose hip tea a fall special treat
There seems no end to roses
Glowing like windfall petals
Filling the pond's edges


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 808

Dear Readers,


Soft


The edges of the cotton shirt
The tips of her fingers on my face
The texture of her lips as we kiss
There that sound of the flowers blowing
The drift of snow on the hillside
Touch of butter on a graham cracker
Touch on my shoulder bare
The sound of her sighs
The sound of cards shuffled together
Music as we linger over breakfast
There that skirt full of swirls
The sound of our feet on the floor
...as we dance the dusk away
The touch of her hand in mine
The feel of her skin under my fingers
The lip balm tasting of caramel
The eggs on the buttered toast
Mei Fun fresh out of the skillet
The days going by as spring yields summer
The light of her in the window frame
The long kiss hello

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 807

Dear Readers,


Shirt with frills


Burgundy with mid length sleeves
Put next to her skin it looks darker
Thin for spring or layered under a coat
It was new when I saw it
There on a rack folded up
There next to her skin yesterday ours
Held in the cedar chest to keep
Where a lot of other spring shirts are
The winter winds almost gone
The spring flowers telling us they are here
Summer just around the corner
When short sleeves are needed more
This shirt with frills will chill
Being that mixture of spring till fall
Wore with her summer pants white
Or fall jeans and a slice of coat
Jiggles could be added for the beach
Made out of shells or drift wood
Yet just an idea now later the project
Maybe a scarf that is like it for winter
Always dressing ideas when we shop

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 806

Dear Readers,

Finger tips

Soft skin under finger tips
There at thumb pad
Rub the fingers into fingers
Soft skin under finger tips
Back of neck, back of leg
There the edges of a shirt
Then the fingers take a sock off
The toes alabaster white
Kiss of edge of finger tips
Where skin meets pant leg
Are we dressing
Or undressing
Always the same edges
The same soft skin
Covered and uncovered
In the fingers
Tips to tells the edges still
Over the ages soft
There the morning evening run
Blended into the setting sun
Days of you in my hands
Slow till the clock stops
Breath warm in dusk light

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 805

Dear Readers,


Sea green in morning

The hair tickles her neck
She says it's as long as ever
Since she was a little girl
I kiss the tickled spot
The hair is long
The color of sand
Held in my hand
Hair as thick as the first
No gray in sight
Belt loops tug jeans close
Standing there kissing my ear
She says things to me
I say them back
We are getting ready
Town just a short drive away
Sea green the color today
Flowers in the vase red and purple
Irises blooming and clematis too
Kisses on her cheek
Off to town we go

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 804

Dear Readers,


Cards


The deck is new
The ones sitting on the shelves old
Piles of the with art on them
We pasted some together like a bird house
House of cards a new meaning
There by the porch swing the new ones are
Sitting by the score pad
Not sure which game it was last
Many we play have new names
Made them up we did yesteryear
Blue decks, Red decks even a clock deck
Out on the side deck a set with flowers
They are nice we bought 3 in a set
Today after cards fresh tomatoes
In a bacon lettuce wrapper
Photos with B L T's and cards
Her hands on the table
Scrap book page 92
There will be yesteryear's entry
Along with today's
Next to the recipe for mei fun

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 803

Dear Readers,



Black Socks


They came off under the table
They slipped on her feet near the bed
They hid in the sock drawer yesterday
They jumped for joy when picked out
They mingled with others in the dryer
Filtered to the red side of the towels
Said hi to me as I put them next my sandals
They sit on the porch swing pondering
What to do this spring
They want to play with flowers
Get some flour on their toes
Bake some bread and see the sights
They like to think of her toes too
Then they say hi to the blue sock
There on the table mixed in with towels
They wonder when I'll play mix and match
Then they might be red sock black sock
Or just sit there dancing on the toes
They look nice on her toes in my hands

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 802

Dear Readers,


Rainy Friday



The porch swing edge was getting wet
Rain blowing in the screens
I turned down the bed sheets
Added a pile of towels by the door
Heated the mint tea up
Got ready for you running from the car
Days when it rains always intense
Unless we haven't gone places
Then they are just looking out the windows
Seeing the rain gauge deepen
Wondering if plants are fall over
Glad the wood is under cover and dry
Warming our feet by a fire
Hot food to take the chill off
Wind and rain in the woods
Birds a bit silent
Robins out and about getting dinner
Wet weather art projects
Little things like that
Photos of you smiling hair wet
The tank top bright with rain drops
Hot soup for dinner and that new wine
Cuddle the night away as the rain falls


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 801

Dear Readers,



364


Touched her strawberry flowers
Blueberry bits
And the Ice Cream
It was all the colors on a shirt
Touched them and said these items
The shirt was tasty looking
So is she
She's my energy
Food takes second seat when she's there
We have videos where she says
You need to eat babe
And you might hear me chew
Or laugh
She's there and I might forget food
We share plates of food a lot
I might be slower eating
I tend to talk a bit
Slows my meal consuming
She sitting there and she's energizing me
When she walks into the room
I'm better off
Hungry for her sight


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 800

Dear Readers,


363


Hungry fingers seeking her touch
Sliding in the hand hold sweet
There as we walk down memory lane
Writing soft verses of hands
There in picture frames
There on long walks
There on the camera stills
Hand in hand no end felt
Hungry fingers touching long
Touch the skin and blend in time
Back and belly and side of face
Bloom of flowers mint tea smells
There on morning toast and butter
Gliding crackers of picnic to mouth
The sounds of sunshine rising
The porch swing slow hand in hand
Hungry fingers seeking her touch

Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles,

Poem for her 799

Dear Readers,


362


The mint was 3 feet high
Spring was turning to summer
The water in the ponds enjoyed fish
The fish enjoyed being looked at
The birds liked the trees and flowers
There was this yellow bird in the feeder
We couldn't get a picture
Watching for the bees and things
Spring in the wind and rain
Rain filled the over flow ponds
Where we store for watering
Porch swing and sitting areas
Card games held right up till dusk
Paints at night or other things
The summer heat getting up there
Cool nights still in offering
Slow dinner parties and picnics
Garden plans and paths to walk
Hugging each other as the seconds go by


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 798

Dear Readers,



361


The time on the clock read 5 mins after
The hour hand was missing
I liked it that way
The minute hand was super slow
We had taken a few days to rig it
She suggested the minutes it would take
...to move just one minute on the clock
...we made notes then after a year
...put the notes in the fireplace one spring
We laughed when friends asked
We had forgotten the formula
It was over there on the wall of paintings
Hidden lightly
There were flowers drying on a line there
Time didn't have much meaning really
We were awake, or asleep
It was day or not
It was spring or fall
The outside world clocked didn't matter
We were HOME


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 797

Dear Readers,


360


The flower in the photo was yellow
Spring of some year
Taken as it broke ground and bloomed
There the frame stopped
Sent phone to phone
Finally printed on good paper
There also in a flower press
As the flower was common now
In the city house's yard
The other photos of it also in the books
Yellow petals so many we couldn't count
Then she kissed me
Then time stopped
Weeks later the kiss flowed to a stop
Energy restored
Waltzing into the frame
We sat on a bench
Out there by the grass and birds
The scrap book said
She kissed me again
The world stopped for a year
Springing to blooms again
Kiss of white skirt clouds in sky
Sunshine and her lips

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 796

Dear Readers,


359


Daze as I wake
Is it really this long
The fathoms of the sea
We've been living on this boat
Cuddled close
In the aft berth
The gear salty in the breeze
Fish not on the menu
Some in the tank
With the little castle
There is a swing on the dock
We sit and watch boats go by
The days short
The nights long
Over there the harbor light
Shower off the salt
Let's go to town
See the diner
Have a drink
See the band
Hand in hand

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 795

Dear Readers,


Sleepy time


That day when just never enough slumber
Tends our way as the cough of spring arrives
We shower the pollen off and hide in kansas
We ground ourselves in the high mountains
Yet there the pollen arrives via a storm
So long slumber we say dazed that we need sleep

There that all being said is why I have found
A boat and breeze to stir her by
So off to sea we go yonder no pollen to be
There the salt spray does a bit of sneeze
Yet we rock to sleep at night and stars see too
Over yonder harbor cove there the tide flows

Over days of slumber lost I tend to think of eggs
Sitting on the counter waiting a breakfast meal
What to stay your hunger pains and guide us off
To comfort rest at the porch swing resting place
Just a doze for the night's missed slumber
You and me papered in our soft cocoon wings ready


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 794

Dear Readers,


When

The days are so long you forget the day
The screams of back up tones, or are those
.....God's way of making us look arounds
.....yet for you and me when trying to rest
.....the same noise to annoy and frustrate
.....which is kinsa sorts um kinda the same
You walk into a space and in fire dark red
...I think, oh that isn't her then you have
...point out the new togs, the wings, shoes
...and scraf you got on fire side sale of the
...week where you did a happy dance and BOOOM!
The day the snow was so deep we couldn't get
....cabin for a week, so the project was put
....on Ice as it were so box'f inside undone
....small idea projects were opened for thought
....I know one day all we did was candle drip
....our own oil funnel cones for free gifts to
....all our friends that were car mech-heads
The days are ticking down to a day of slice of
..time to kiss a butterfly section of slice
..here have an olive, and this bit of fungi
..cheese with a sip of Bristol Cream or
..will it be the 30 year old auslese with
..the candied kumquats and bacon?

Happy Birthday Babe,


Charles.

The Janitor at Nexus Reads

Dear Readers,


Nexus is a coffee house. They have the best coffee I have had in a long time. They are also Super Friendly and have sparked my Creative juices and within my other frames of reference and needs given me ideas to do something I have not done in ages, since at least my days at Mississippi State University.

I have set forth in motion, a tasting of flavors of my poems, and stories and also (editors notes) I am poor at commas, Periods, and flows of those things called hey aren't you supposed to be a writer? Well yes, though actual typing I am not person you think I should be. I am me. That kid in adult body that doesn't style wise as others do.

I compose verbally. So using typed slates, I don't use much comma pauses and movements in that form you all might syntax out in an Office slice.

I will be there May 11th at before 1 pm, the doors open at 1 pm for any that want to be there.

I will read a few of mine, poems and short stories. As well as the W story. Selections of poems I will limit to a dozen or so. March 2019 has 11 to her, so those will be on offing.

I will also compose for as many as like it, their own personal tasting of my composing, a story for them, they can record any and all of it or not, Video or audio or however. If they want a second installment, come back next time I am there and ask for their second chapter of their story, and creation will be there to give it.

It will of course be free form. I rarely plan details, I let the wind flow guide me.

So May 11th 2019 1 pm till 3 pm, Nexus meeting room. The Janitor will be there to do creations and stuffs.

I will be drinking at least a bottomless cup of coffee. Which is my usual. Micah and the crew know me.

Thanks for reading.

May Christ give you His Peace that passes all understanding.

Charles.