Bree’s coming Over Tonight

There’s a breeze blowing

over me as I swing

in my hammock.  I hear

the wind chimes sing

bree bree bree brees.


Or maybe

it’s just me setting

my fancy free,

longing to see

Bree’s blow-

tossed curls sway

breezily as she walks

up the drive.

dVerse – Poets Pub: Quadrille 10

Bjorn is hosting.  “I have chosen breeze. I look forward to the most original usage. Come along and write 44 words exactly excluding title and use breeze somewhere in the main body of your poem.”



Talented, Driven Raptor Seeking Prey



Red-shouldered Hawk.

Frequent visitor to our backyard.


Bit of a whiner.

Winer and diner.

Diner of lizards he catches on the fly.

The name Reggie works well

on more than one plane

or playing field.


Like a young man I know,

he’d rather live off slim pickings

than to do the work to get into something new.


It’s a job, Reggie, I agree.

But there are other, better ways

to get your fill; to fill your bill.


Hunt bigger, hunt better.

Put out your resume.

Get listed on linkedin.


With your swooping skills

you should have caught something

better by now!

Slightly-Stressed Blues


copyright 2016 by Charley

“Why does the mind compose this music well before the words occur?” – Jim Harrison


Into the room I walk,

a soft, soulful riff plays

inside the circumstance.


The soundtrack comes,

though the event dictates

something more serene.


The committee awaits,

around the table arrayed

specifically to interview


me.  I am meant to be an appetizer.


The electric bass waltzes,

thumb hammering strut,

dancing the neck fingering.


Seated, my foot tapping,

heart with drums syncing,

first question easily fielded.


By the end of the ordeal

I maintain my seat barely.

Get up, leave the room boogie.


The next prospective in the hall passes.

Poor bloke; he’s drawn a dirge.


This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”

based on prompts taken from poems

by Jim Harrison.

Whattif, Whyzzit

“It is life’s work to recognize the mystery of the obvious.” – Jim Harrison


I became

a scientist at the age of four, asking

deep investigative questions, seeking

an understanding of life.  The purpose

of science I learned a few years ago, teaching

9th grade Integrated Science (having never taken

a formal science class past 8th grade) that the purpose

of science is “to explain natural phenomenon.”

This plays into the scientific mind of a pre-schooler.

It’s just a mistake for the child to query

a frazzled parent.



This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”

based on prompts taken from poems

by Jim Harrison.

Re: Velation

“On some clear nights in the country the stars can exhaust us.” – Jim Harrison


“The Lord said, ‘Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.’  Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.  After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire came a gentle whisper.  When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave (1 Kings 19:11-13 NIV).”


God did not

whisper as he passed

by on that frozen lake.


He hammered.


The wonder is the ice

did not shatter, the earth

did not shake.


The wonder is I did not die.


All these years later

I struggle to decipher.


This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”

based on prompts taken from poems

by Jim Harrison.

Eddy Swirl

“The River Can’t Heal Everything.” – Jim Harrison


Houseboat summers

sandbar moorings

with neighbors not from home.


Swimming sunlight

brown and slender

meals grabbed grudgingly.


Sunset smore roast,

campfire stories;

yarns spun way past midnight.


Sleep on blankets

on the rooftop

under the constellations bright.


Hear the grownups

voices turning harsh

laughter stopped by angry yell.


Things said that night

talk over our heads

Dad’s whisper fierce, Mom’s yelled reply.


Neighbors gone at dawn.

Quiet we head for home.

Dad packs a suitcase and then is gone.


Our lives are changed

by something unexplained.


And the river will never answer.


This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”

based on prompts taken from poems

by Jim Harrison.

Riding On the Dragon’s Back

The night sky

a daunting task

not so much the sky

as the efforts

of poets over hundreds

of years to capture

its essence

in sonnet armed

with metaphor disarmed

with alliteration.  Still

moved by the show drawn

deep within the silent

well, I rise in spirit

as also I bow

in supplication

to the night

to the night

as she bids

me lay down

all my cares

all my concerns

in her gaze

all my labors a-bed.


My to-do lists cease

to carry weight or urgency.


All this has been said

before.  Perhaps better.

Certainly with urgent

specificity.  Nevertheless

I hear her say



What if in all that lies

before us, about us is


save for Earth?


Would the solitude with which we watch

the Spine make

the universe the less

or we the lonely audience


dVerse Poets’ Pub: OpenLinkNight #173

Grace, our hostess this evening says: “Hi everyone!  Welcome to OpenLinkNight !   This is your opportunity to link 1 poem of your choice as this is no prompt-day.”


“Nature has portals rather than doors.” – Jim Harrison


On a walk

the doe looked up

we froze

and looked at each other.


My breath caught.


An eagle dove

between the two canoes

in front of mine

and took a bass.


They nearly swamped.


Giant redwoods

filtering in light from above

into the cathedral

created by their circle.


I worshiped there.


The Pacific.

The stars above.

A meadow.

The cardinal hopping in our backyard.


A moment of awe.


This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”

based on prompts taken from poems

by Jim Harrison.

Make Do While Nature Makes Dew

The night expands,

a ramie sweater,

knit from a giving

material.  And awake,

I count bolls in lieu

of sheep, and do

math when I should

sleep.  Thus deprived,

a lad such as I can

make much of little,

make grease of spittle,

make great burdens small as I whittle

away the wee hours,

gathering cotton,

not gathering wool.

Icky’s Epic Fail

Landscape Icarus

After Bruegel, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (Musee Van Buuren, Brussels).  Wikimedia Commons

“Such fragile wings.” – Jim Harrison


Failed to listen to Dad.

Failed to follow flight rules.

Failed to take into account the limitation of the materials used.

Failed to navigate by instruments.

Failed to keep his head.

Failed to come out of the dive.

Failed to make landfall.


Failed wings.



This is part of “28 Days of Unreason”

based on prompts taken from poems

by Jim Harrison.