never speak as if the idea,
of you being a poet is gone,
for what and why.
Words are all in the sky free to use,
arrange as you imagine their needed placement,
take a few ,spit twice on your palms
rub them together and make it. true!

sometimes
i get a glimpse
of words i think i ought to know
from poets i used to read
way back when

i keep running
down dark alleys
chasing shadowy figures
and alluring words

where do the ghosts
of dead poets go
anyway?

The sky was cerulean
Above the graveyard
Where unused toys
Were laid on the
Pregnant bump
Before the headstone.

An old man and his grandson
Watched the procession
From the hospital window.

I see the varying yellows and reds
of leaves dancing to the ground
after a slight wind
I see bluejays, cardinals and robins
jockeying for position on the birdfeeder's step
I see deer walk across the field
as I peer from the kitchen window
they seem at home in their freedom
I see the distant mountaintops fading as the Sun yields
to the approaching night
I see the emerging stars and the glow of the moon
as it begins it's nightly watch
then I see you
secure in the maple frame
I gaze endless
until the call of sleep awakens me
my home is wrapped in beauty
but all the beauty I see
begins in this frame
in this face
so far away

I wish it was easier for
people to forget, if things left their
mind as easy as they let
them in, tough skin
wouldn’t wear thin
as easy as it is right now,
my past is full of imperfections
and bad decisions, leaving unstitched
incisions beneath the brink of sanity,
but who’s isn’t? every time falsities
start, my mind races
with my heart to contemplations on
when to finish, they tattoo the past
of others on their insecurities,
fuelling the fire that burns a hole
into respect and reputation,
creating a vicious cycle
of revenge and envy,
each gossip verbally vomited
into naive ears pulls the marionette
strings of perception into the road normally
taken, two roads may have diverged
at a yellow wood, but when the ignorance
burns yellow to ash,  the road less taken
seems blocked, so the next time you hear
something about another, don’t be too quick
spread the word, the game of
telephone can get a little distorted when
the next phone call
you get is that they
were found hanging from
a rope.
                                MJB

They gave their lives for an Irish nation,
Paid the ultimate price for our freedom.
Each of them signing the Proclamation
Which would guide Ireland in the years to come.
Thomas Clarke was the first signatory
With Patrick Pearse and Seán Mac Diarmada,
Also Joseph Plunkett, James Connolly,
Éamon Ceannt, Thomas Mary Mac Donagh.
Alas these were seven of many more
Who died as we fought for independence.
Whose names should be honoured for evermore
By us, our children and our descendants.
Never should we forget their legacy;
We owe them our freedom, our liberty