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 Mar 2022 Koggeki
am i ee
the little tree
took root from
an acorn nut.

the years passed,
she watched the loggers
come and go.

taking her friends
and family off
on the big beds
of the timber trucks.

year after year,
season after season,
there she stood,
winter, fall, spring, and summer,
one slow grow.

first she was short,
barely a spurt,
then she branched out,
and up and up and up.

the trees stood
all around her,
so serious,
oh so silent company.

however,
never a mean word nor
loud shout was ever heard.

never any other music
but for that of the birds,
and the wind and the sun
and
the creatures walking the
woodland floor,
those traveling through to
far distant exotic lands.

at least she never heard
“girl, you are some fat tree.”
or was the target of any joke,
“when you sit around the house,
you sit AROUND the house.”

nor any
“you gotta do something with them leaves,
they are looking like a rat’s nest.
Oh i see, it IS a squirrel’s nest.”

or for a stray bump or large hideous growth
no one ever said,
“you better go get that removed,
that's one ugly lump!"

years and years passed,
her soul inside,
couldn’t be heard,
not a word.

then one day,
the fellows came through,
looking and measuring,
measuring and looking,
out came the chainsaw.

eyes alighting on she,
on all of her
tall, majestic beauty.
with swift, quick work
she fell,
down,
to the earth.

loaded on the flatbed,
chains wrapped securely around,
engine roared to life,
and she took off,
racing into the darkening night.

she knew tears did fall
as forests thinned
and were laid bare,
but all she could think,
all she could say,
was
“so long suckers!
i’ll see you on broadway one day!”

and so it became true,
her dream of yore,
it was finally in,
Radio City Music Hall,
she landed as the floor.

night after night
to her lasting delight
tap dancers tapped
making her sing
bringing out the music
in she
so previously
imprisoned inside,
for so long.

sanded and polished
varnished and cleaned,
her secret inner beauty
finally brought to life,
finally brought into the light.

she beamed and sighed,
every time a new star
stepped on to her,
to her extreme delight.

any day or night,
when every eye of
the house,
every one of the audience
was riveted on she.

oh what a thrill
when the Radio City Rockettes
did finally come out,
for only for she
could they dance
so straight,
so evenly.

Sometimes i look
at the woods laid bare.
my heart drops low
so sad i feel,
a tear spills out.

then i recall,
the tale of this tree,
the little acorn nut,
how a trip to
a city,
made her so
lastingly
happy &
so  very
pretty!
 Mar 2022 Koggeki
am i ee
prognostication
trognostication
snogmosstignation
flogtrosticatio­n

i don’t know what
prognostication means
so i thought i’d
take a little time
and make a rhyme.
seeking out Mr. Dictionary...i do now.
 Mar 2022 Koggeki
am i ee
The strapping young lad & the manly cowboy
went out for a brew.
"i'd like to go camping with you."

"this ain't no brokeback mountian,
if that's on which yew were a countin'."

"no worries mate,
really, i wasn't looking for a date!"
if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
 Mar 2022 Koggeki
am i ee
"don't get old,"
whispered she.
"my love, my friend, my life."
"stay with me."

"i'm gonna miss you so, when you are gone."
slow tear tracing down,
arms wrapped tight,
kissing her with all her might.
presupposes predecease.
 Mar 2022 Koggeki
am i ee
four paws padding along the earth,
noise to the ground
snuffling scent.

curving in waves,
tracking a prey,
treasures appear
as we walk this way.

dark green and yellow
box turtle shell,
yellow head and hands
barely peeking out.

leaves quivering
high in the boughs
of the trees.

small little sparrow
grey and still,
lying intact on
the ground,
but for your
little broken neck
ringed in crimson.

pausing to lay
it to rest,
leaf for a blanket,
a prayer for the best.

water bugs
skating along,
pools of calm spots
where flowing creek travels
temporarily stopped.

later inside,
a tiny black dot
hurries by.

index finger poised,
finally lowered,
and so, now you are,
no more.

pausing to ponder,
is this ****** i've done?
is this what consigns one,
to hell,
when one's own time
is done?
another morning... the ebb & flow of life... the Tao.
 Mar 2022 Koggeki
am i ee
dear kind reader,

humor is a very personal,
a very individual thing,
so,
i beg your pardon,
i never promised you a rose garden,

if the parlance of the street,
offends your nature so sweet,

i beg your pardon,
i never promised you a rose garden.

but this much i will confess,
funny i find much of this mess.

and i'd rather go to my grave,
with hearty laughter,
milk spilling laughter,
screaming ' yer killin' me!"
than any other way!
 Feb 2022 Koggeki
BarelyABard
I do not want to speak of death
or time's unyielding sting.

I do not want a wasted breath
on such a pointless thing.

Right now I see no greater sin
than making passion dead.



So let me breathe your fragrant skin...
Come, crawl inside my bed.
 Jan 2022 Koggeki
Filomena Rocca
My poetry *****
I've zero *****
To give my art
My empty heart
Devoid of feel
Has no appeal
Toward the sheep
Who watch me weep
A worthless sound
A spring unwound
Potential spent
Becoming bent
Approaching death
Jehovah saith
He shall be ******
The preacher groaned
In deep denial
We must revile
All things defiled
And we deny
That one divine
These horrors binds
Into our lives
As such we try
In faith to live
As we forgive
Ourselves alone
As He atoned
For us, but you
He would not do
Predestination
An invitation
You can't take
Unless you fake
The way we do
And say it's true
What's in our book
Just take a look
And soon you'll see
Reality
Belongs to me
--I mean to Him
His power's within
My mortal flesh
And who would guess
That it was me
Was meant to be
A chosen one
A pointed gun
At those He hates
His wrath abates
When fire is cold
And time gets old
As was foretold
By prophets bold
Great men of old
Religion sold
The people told
Their word of gold
But on inspection
Their intention
Is control
To be the sole
Proprietors
And keep the people quieter
The evening of January 15, 2022
To break my writer's block,
I decided to write a string of rhyming couplets.
This was the result.
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