tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12807160746057911432024-03-23T05:14:48.513-05:00peripatetic patterlearning new tricks . . . and hardhead is always here . . . Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.comBlogger1052125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-54788834559004128962023-11-27T10:15:00.008-06:002023-11-27T10:15:53.622-06:00<break>
Walk a Lot Grin a Lot
I grin a lot . . .
I walk.
I slow to visit every dog I meet
my cat is at home
she always sniffs out my trips:
Dogs are okay, other cats are not.
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</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-22167618411229347672023-10-29T09:02:00.002-05:002023-10-29T09:02:54.449-05:00<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">See you on the Trail</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I am not as young as our moon</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">but with drink and medicine</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I may be there very soon.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>ain't in any goddamn race</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">but with the power of my Edison</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and if driving talents keep pace.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I always have thoughts of tomorrow</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and may decide to scale Kilimanjaro.</div></div><break>
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</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-22548893765516585992023-10-29T08:54:00.003-05:002023-10-29T08:54:41.080-05:00<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Look Over Yonder Somewhere</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm gonna miss me when you're gone</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm gonna miss you when you write my song</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Sing in tune if or when you can</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>maybe beat on your old pan . . . </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I'll watch for you on the horizon</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">and grin ear to ear when you surprise me</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">'cause I know you're watching to see</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">what the hell is really over yonder . . . </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">It's us . . . you and me.</div></div><break>
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</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-12578229670367445792023-07-25T09:03:00.003-05:002023-07-25T09:03:50.073-05:00<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Early Traveling</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I was not the cool kid</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">nor a stalking child</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">just a thumb in the air</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>without a flower in my hair . . . </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">O just to get out and about</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">from Odessa to the Pacific</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">watching skies of suggestion</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">my travels were my wit . . .</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Bridges without too much water</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">some nestling birds for safety</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">there and back, windmills in mind</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I counted out steps between waterings.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I always knew my name.</div></div><break>
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</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-15338041719135711652023-07-11T07:40:00.000-05:002023-07-11T07:40:59.969-05:00<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Days of Sorrow</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">The bone-aches of age</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">are a reminder</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">that some of us are in cage.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I walk</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I talk</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I even strut some</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">but never locked by space . . .</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I can run</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">under stars that are kinder</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">than a simple stage</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">of endless rage.</div></div><break>
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</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-62946795511706400702023-03-10T08:29:00.000-06:002023-03-10T08:29:01.218-06:00The Circle in GoldThe Circle in Gold<br /><a href="" target="_blank"></a><blockquote>
</blockquote><div>I'm running and walking,</div><div>grinning without talking</div><div>let the snow pile up and melt</div><div>it's the sweetest weather to smell</div><div>among the Delta Ponds trails.</div><div>Meet me for a bit of trot and walk</div><div>smile a lot but no need to talk,</div><div>make certain to wear your felt.</div><div><br /></div>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-154961965371576882023-01-18T14:43:00.001-06:002023-01-18T14:43:27.930-06:00Gato Malo Redux<break>
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<blockquote>The songs I sing from my mind</blockquote><p>don't always tingle with rhyme</p><p>but are songs I know</p><p>my heart shouting to the wind.</p><p><br /></p><p>Please remember this</p><p>a kiss is just a kiss</p><p>but a sigh goes beyond tomorrow.</p><p>A kiss is often followed by sorrow</p><p>or rows and rows of a beautiful today.</p><p><br /></p><p>Have you noticed the twist & turns?</p><p>D. Parket certainly took note . . .</p><p>The yapping of birds, just a bit hasty,</p><p>she balanced as almost nasty . . .</p><p>DP thought feathered friends</p><p>somewhere beyond a pale of sense,</p><p>their yapping and scolding stirred</p><p>stirred in a soup of arbutus seeking sun.</p><p><br /></p>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-43851705736975226392022-11-29T09:29:00.000-06:002022-11-29T09:29:00.065-06:00I do not Dance Alone<break>
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<blockquote>
If you see me strutting with no one insight</b>
it is because I see friends gone in the night.</b>
We mostly meet out of doors along roads</b>
that do not always lead to anywhere</b>
just neutral spaces of peace and quiet</b>
with room to dump our love and care</b>
where it belongs, in the arms of everyone.</b>
The strut is just an awkward dance of love.</b>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-58015686921566140722022-10-31T08:49:00.003-05:002022-10-31T11:22:21.012-05:00Gee Whiz<break>
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<blockquote>O by golly, by geeze, by gosh</br>
I hope it all comes out in the wash </br>
my trousers are a mess </br>
the bed sheet innsulated with trash</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-20131297675181437142022-09-18T09:20:00.000-05:002022-09-18T09:20:34.668-05:00No Sonnet This<break>
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<blockquote>
I am not only a bubble in the sky . . . </br>
and neither are you . . . </br>
we are trouble on the wing,</br>
a world where we may belong.</br>
</br>
We are people grown old</br>
and know the syllables of youth and love.</br>
We hear secrets that none of us knew</br>
before we learned to skip and sing,</br>
We cannot move down river</br>
preferring one side or the other</br>
nor float the cool of the Willamette</br>
lost in the rocks along the way . . . </br>
</br>
You will know who I am</br>
crashing and singing;</br>
I am no outcast except by choice</br>
I sit alone studying Joyce . . . </br>
more like an alley cat</br>
than an honest polygot . . .</br>
</br>
I strive, I strive</br>
I am still alive.</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-79338532244173737122022-09-17T21:19:00.002-05:002022-09-17T21:29:12.479-05:00Hills in Berkeley<break>
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<blockquote>If you're going to be in Berkeley</br>
please visit our old friends . . . </br>
don't say that I sent you,</br>
just check if she's okay.</br>
She needs no message from me;</br>
I am home where the Oregon rolls.</br>
</br>
Promise me a taste of tomorrow</br>
and I'll sing you a ballad of today.</br>
Yes, yesterday is probably gone</br>
but we sing the simplest of songs,</br>
shouting out as much love as we know.</br>
I am home where the Oregon rolls.</br>
</br>
We will sing, dance, cry and play</br>
The Little Red Hen was our friend.</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-6842413452124632162022-08-15T09:16:00.000-05:002022-08-15T09:16:20.514-05:00I have Brothers and Sisters<break>
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I ain't fast enough typing to know what I meant yesterday.
Eight-balls careen from every corner before my polka stick
strikes a tonic chord. I am mostly a swirling idiot of motion
with too much emotion attempting to learn tomorrow's trick.
I have marched in step and I have paused after refreshment
without learning shtick about the mumbling bumbling moment
of brethren smiling and waving from passing flagged ships.
The distance of their salutes and smiles was not surprising;
sun to starboard and their salutes to port was prize enough.
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-5978894865553908182022-07-02T09:24:00.000-05:002022-07-02T09:24:30.584-05:00From an old Conversation with an older Friend<break>
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A: Life is holding your guts in your hands. Dripping a little. Life is an undoing of yourself, a letting go with both hands. Otherwise, you exist. Nothing else. Like a rock exists. Perhaps someone will come along and go chip chip. Maybe you'll sparkle and become a ring setting, but beauty is not what life is about. Beauty is incidental, Living creates beauty - not the reverse.</br>
</br>
B: You make it sound mad. Absurd. Maybe even almost life perverted.</br>
<br/>
A. Yes! Yes! Madness is part of life. And absurdity is part of the madness. Perversion? It's an artificial word. A moral word. But within its made-up context, okay, maybe. You decide.</br>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-63478385780194839452022-04-17T15:35:00.004-05:002022-04-25T14:00:19.124-05:00Another Word for Age<break>
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<blockquote>
Maturing has some benefits . . . </br>
we are not governed by clocks.</br>
</br>
We watch the moon as it sets</br>
sometimes seeming a sullen ox</br>
aware of the sniffing of a smaller fox,</br>
but mostly we have no true regret,</br>
</br>
eyes closed listening to Bach . . .</br>
Bach, not always our favorite . . . </br>
damn, so what? we savor it!</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-55996215340890595352022-04-17T10:37:00.002-05:002022-06-05T14:21:03.905-05:00Old Geese on a Pond<break>
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<blockquote>I float easy enough, but not always with a breathing tube above water, but what the hell . . . I have a nose and I can float, and with some direction. Oh, I may follow a stream for some way, but please do not expect me to stay too long . . . some of us plan ahead and then see somewhere else to go . . . I hope to keep travelin' without too much thought of mind . . . there are two of us, like old geese on a pond, we move. Do not always expect to keep us within your knowledge of us. What a fuss . .
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-28542879542532299282022-04-03T09:57:00.000-05:002022-04-03T09:57:25.174-05:00Not meant to be a Boast<break>
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<blockquote>
I'm loose on the coastal range</br>
sometimes just too far offshore</br>
tossing in waves I didn't remember</br>
swimming toward shores as if I don't care . . .</br>
I remain aware of the moon and stars</br>
and the loose moon kissing the stairs</br>
and shout out to see Jupiter and Uranus</br>
before Mercury brightens the skies</br>
with questions of propriety</br>
that who the hell can answer . . . </br>
It is not just apparent older age</br>
nor youthfulness out of a cage</br>
it is damn well beyond cancer</br>
and fellows worried about privacy,</br>
it is just a swim on the Oregon coast.</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-60779946533501927462022-03-30T19:18:00.001-05:002022-03-30T19:23:52.718-05:00Hallelujahs on a Primary Chorus<break>
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<blockquote>
I sing like a frog in a creek</br>
just checking where I'm at</br>
some notes sharp some flat</br>
some things seem totally godsent</br>
and then echoes remind me</br>
I've read my biology front to zen</br>
I realize the costs of buying and rent</br>
and the joys of knowing how to bend</br>
and guess that I'm just a bit of geology . . . </br>
Keeper teach me the roads to heaven</br>
all of my bread is toasted unleavened</br>
and I sing the joys of just beginning</br>
without considering the seismology</br>
isn't someone else just as curious</br>
and know that I am damn well serious</br>
about where to go and where we've been?</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-67358220528444762742022-03-30T14:48:00.001-05:002022-03-30T14:48:33.287-05:00Bits & Pieces<break>
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I have been a new recruit changed to soldier</br>
and someone with a weep-upon shoulder</br>
I have even been younger but never yet older</br>
I do not remember the luxury of a stroller</br>
but I know the smell and peace of a barstool</br>
when some of them thought I was in school</br>
but in sister's lounge waiting for my turn at pool</br>
I never put a dime on the table, I am no fool</br>
I know my worth and my thirsts</br>
and know that I was never cursed</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-19762161030820541132022-03-30T14:33:00.000-05:002022-03-30T14:33:19.777-05:00See you on the Trail<break>
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<blockquote>
I am not as young as our moon</br>
but with drink and medicine</br>
I may be there very soon.</br>
I ain't in any goddamn race</br>
but with the power of my Edison</br>
and if driving talents keep pace.</br>
I always have thoughts of tomorrow</br>
and may decide to scale Kilimanjaro.</br>
</blockquote>
Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-34441095602203754382021-12-16T17:30:00.000-06:002021-12-16T17:30:59.367-06:00Love and Crayolas<break>
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Don't get me wrong</br>
I might could write your song</br>
but it would be me glancing at you</br>
</br>
Don't think me wise</br>
I might see your daylight skies</br>
without fathoming the blues of nights</br>
</br>
We color and redraw</br>
across pages of Mardi Gras</br>
without noting the rains coming down
</blockquote></br>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-13940353087865521522021-12-04T10:41:00.006-06:002021-12-04T10:41:51.306-06:00Horizons<break>
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<blockquote>
Yes, I laughed at yesterday's tomorrow</br>
and chuckled and joked at looking forward.</br>
</br>
I always expected drier, lighter snow</br>
and always saw the one-eyed poker card:</br>
</br>
It was just support for pennies on the table</br>
and the cloistered closing lines of our fable.</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-87808041645011697002021-12-03T18:24:00.003-06:002021-12-27T16:30:46.434-06:00In Your (Our) Face<break>
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<blockquote>In your face.</br>
I will remain in the race.</br>
There is no disrespect</br>
but just what you expect.</br>
Sometimes we stumble</br>
and sometimes we mumble</br>
but we can twirl a star</br>
at as distant and far</br>
as we can imagine that far;</br>
hold down the tent</br>
it will rain and rumble</br>
and many of us will disappear</br>
into the clouds of despair</br>
almost as quickly as frogs</br>
from distant ditches and bogs.</br>
The world translates us </br>
differently and without fuss.</br>
I still try to corner love</br>
and fit into my working glove</br>
but moments are moments </br>
as burials are monuments.</br>
Circles are sometimes smaller</br>
than we need or call for;</br>
we live in circumscribed </br>
bottleneck dreams, </br>
or so it often seems</br>
though few of us feel bribed;</br>
We know our tribe.</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-5592200119628490102021-11-19T10:23:00.000-06:002021-11-19T10:23:09.189-06:00I am at Peace<break>
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<blockquote>
if you need voices to assure you</br>
that is cool as brown sugar & okay</br>
but I will dance my twirls myself</br>
and you can do what you do</br>
I always have bunches more to say</br>
but I'll set that on some high shelf</br>
out of reach until we, she, or he needs it</br>
meantime I will listen to doves coo</br>
and the whistle of the morning pot</br>
let me know what I forgot . . .</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-81877075314863715292021-11-15T09:38:00.000-06:002021-11-15T09:38:22.506-06:00Crows and Ken<break>
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There are many ancient rhymes of words</br>
known now only to crows and minion birds</br>
that spend their time mocking the world.</br>
</br>
Post your ear when they gather in your yard.</br>
and hear noise lacking any semblance to the bard!</br>
Their mocking memes grow in noisy swirls.</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280716074605791143.post-11449453126605096432021-11-08T08:15:00.001-06:002021-11-08T08:15:12.409-06:00Yes, You Were Once my Only Love<break>
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You will not forget me </br>
do not believe that you will</br>
I don't mean just the good times</br>
old bar ditches filled with wild celery</br>
before you said good-bye</br>
lost months and years stacked in memory</br>
that find you wading in shallow water</br>
sometimes thru mud and sticky sand</br>
lots of drying tears without laughter</br>
circling your todays and afterwards</br>
</br>
I was never moving on, but winging it</br>
from your smiles and silly good-byes</br>
an albatross in wind alone, singing it</br>
through the emptiest of cloudy skies</br>
looking back over shoulder and soul</br>
always earlier, waiting for you was a goal</br>
</br>
I live in calming, living waters most days</br>
pleased to live my life post-chaise</br>
love does not occur to me at all</br>
my love has always dripped from the page</br>
of a life that I would never re-live</br>
without all the angst and honesty</br>
</br>
Maybe I am no albatross, just a proud dove</br>
I am settled in with my true love . . .</br>
</blockquote>Bill Boydstunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15340611217845400427noreply@blogger.com0