My Irritations, Aggravations and Inspirations


October 1, 2012 “gold”

October 1, 2012 “gold”


silhouettes of crows cawing

at the hunting hawk

scattering songbirds from thistle and bush

into the blue sky of autumn

gold autumn

crisp, sharp, gold, autumn

the westing sun flows gold

to the edges of the valley

shimmering trees of gold

leaves, glittering flecks of gold

in silence break free from bowing branches

casting themselves gently upon a river

reflections of gold mountains

and trees and leaves

and air painted gold by the sun

the distant crow caws

at the hunting hawk

the blue sky

the gold earth

and autumn

©tlh 10/1/12


August 8, 2012 “pencils and pens”


pencils and pens

standing on ends

some down

some up

in an old pewter cup

leads are broken and dull

ink leaked and dried

like forgotten flowers

petalless in a vase

stems all askew and aside

neglected poems and letters

love stories untold

unwritten beginnings and ends

left in a cupful of pencils and pens

© tlh 8/8/2012

December 17, 2011 “Oh, Christmas Tree”

 “Oh, Christmas Tree”


Fraser and Douglas trussed tight

lying on the sidewalk

bound prisoners with no way of escape

stacked like cord wood for a fire

price tags or toe tags

to trees they’re the same…

Merry Christmas!

tlh 12/17/11

I could put this on facebook, but I would be putting MY thoughts on THEIR site for those bastards to make money on! Don’t get me wrong, I have an fb page, and I enjoy it. But sometimes, when I think about it, I just get a little pissed. So, in trying to not cuss on a regular basis, and in the hopes and dreams of a new year, I’m going to try changing my little blog up a bit.

I would really like to write honestly and frankly, do you ever feel that way?, like you just want to say it EXACTLY how you’re feeling it… but I want others to read my work and still want to come back, so maybe that’s all off the table. Or should I write what I really think without all the poetry, or in spite of all the poetry, every bit of which was honest, but done to impress a woman (take note of my relationship status on my damned facebook page, and you can see how successful that has been)!  Why am I so reluctant to write what I truly feel…

Should I care what any of my readers think? or should I write what I think and feel, and let the chips fall?  Maybe I’m just in a mood. Maybe I feel a little screwed…or sorry for my damned self. Who cares? It will pass in time, just like all things, these feelings of honesty and getting (I’m dying to use the “F” word, but I don’t really have to) screwed will fade in time to other, better feelings, I’m sure…right?

I don’t expect any of you to understand… well actually, I expect that all of you can relate to exactly what I’m saying.

If I were Charlie Brown, my life and love right now would be that damned football, and I would be running full speed straight at it, thinking I was actually going to kick it this TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMME!!!!!


January 1, 2011 “thoughts at midnight”



“thoughts at midnight”


outside my midnight door

the darkness is shattered

by gunfire and bombs


thunder-rocked air rattles my floor


stillness and tranquility

vaporized in the flashes

are ringing in my ears…


the travail of two years


the ebb

of the dying old

the possibility

of the infant new

memories and dreams

past and future

for a moment




another explosion




a birth

a death

a beginning…


the end


©tlh 1/1/11




November 23, 2010 “impressions”



November rain falls from sagging clouds

crawling like smoke

across the cold landscape of late Autumn

obscuring mountain tops in a misty chill

permeating the bones of the earth and man

the valleys flowing with a silent fog

in remnants and shreds

that drag and catch in the knotty fingers

of a lone, gray tree

its bare gnarled hand clawing at the invisible sky

from a monotone field the dim dreary haze

creeps across a rain blackened fence row

and through the rickety slats of an ethereal red barn

to my window

the wet glass rendering the scene

like a sunless vision of Monet

I shiver behind the foggy frame

as I turn to search for a blanket


©tlh 11/23/10





October 4, 2010 “basics”

For Poetry Potluck


(in haiku)


invisible force

timelessly carving spaces

from the winds of time


firmamental mist

all engulfing foggy shroud

drips water of life


from nothing dancing

without substance still living

primordial fire


darkly seething deep

blackened bowels of infant stone

earth in the making


©tlh 10/4/2010

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