Bubba's Blog

Icicles dripping

Coating the side door’s handle

Winter keeping me

Another cold day

Side-roads slick and slippery

Speed on the freeway

Frosted white tree tops

Highlighted by early sun

As I drive through fog

Late winter sunset

Highlighting the bulrushes

And the moon above

The sun was peeking

Shy behind the hazy clouds

Be my Valentine?

Intermittent light

The sun fighting with the clouds

To get a peek down

Early morning moon

Brushing light snow off my car

The wind frustrating

Dripping icicle

Looming over my doorway

Sword of Damocles

Lady Cardinal

Perched high in a dark, bare tree

Leaves with her bright mate

A coiled shipyard rope

Writing haiku in my dream

As a river snake

Cold air bites my nose

And steals the heat from my skin

Ferocious winter

Bitter cold morning

I thought I heard a robin

Just wishful thinking

Pastel horizon

The sun not yet visible

An unopened gift

In the snowy field

A lone tree’s long, dark shadow

Running from the sun

Salted winter road

Such treacherous traveling

A squirrel pancake

Confidence bold

Then hot and cold

Deep and profound

But clowns around

Without a clue

Then hip to you

Youth green and gold

But growing old

Tied safe and sound

Then came unwound

Righteous and true

But selfish too

Some people think poets walk with their heads in the clouds

Drifting through life filled with fanciful notions, not in reality

Some people think poets wear their hearts on their sleeves

So easily swept away by some kind gesture, or a pretty face

Some people think poets get carried away with their anger

Raging against stuff beyond their control, even death itself

Some people think poets swoon over things like the sun rising

Too ready to surrender all, too willing to let themselves fall

Some people think poets live for wading through pools of despair

Wallowing in self-pity, wildly exaggerating their every heartache

But poets think people simply don’t understand life’s mystery

Despite how often, or how desperately, poets try to explain it

(Wow!  My 1,000th post on WordPress!)

Hitler nailed upon a swastika cross

Arian martyr, mistaken messiah

Vainglorious zealot, egomaniac

Delusional occultist and mad man

Set upon a chaotic, genocidal path

When his youthful, artistic dreams

Were quashed instead of nurtured

By narrow-minded, judgmental authority

That fatefully deemed him not worthy

To follow his muse, to pursue beauty

So, rejected and hurt, he turned away

To find another, terrible way to go

And the whole world paid the price

I had a second thought

Only for a second

But then I blinked

And it was gone

But that’s the nature

Of second thoughts

They just appear

Then disappear

Perhaps it’s the work

Of Satan lurking

Nudging our brains

Hinting at temptation

Or maybe it’s just us

Foolishly reconsidering

The good advice from

Our Guardian Angels

Battle commences

Good versus Evil

And then it ends

In the blink of an eye