Life beyond the poetic realm.
Sinking into silence, an emotional free fall.
Ebbing away the final sigh of poetry.

i once thought soulmates
were the missing piece
the perfect fit
the calm after the storm
but then i met you
and everything that i am
everything that i fear
was mirrored back to me
and my soul sighed
at the feeling
of finally being seen
our eyes met
twin blues colliding
and i knew
it would always be you.

On any given day,
so far,
I have been sui causal,
and distracted by a real
fat cat named Wreckit,
he's a ****** subspecies' archetype,
on the branch of eating things,
unique, we insist, we delight in knowing,
we eat cats next to last.

This  cat has the best life of any mammal ever.
My grandchildren worship him, and he's afraid
to come into my room, but he defiantly plays
in the hall and looks to see if I notice, and I blink.

I think a thank you for the lightening mood.

This is Ken Pepiton, as he sat in the sun,
thinking of Van Gogh's ghucking sunhat
self portrait,

and laughing at having dropped my name,
where he left his hat.

i stare to sea where autumn's night-winds tease
and sea waves crash and run with all their fire,
i feel a sense of rest that doesn't tire,
caught up in sea-rose reds and heady breeze
and like the fiery waves and sea-blown trees
this love of flames that once burnt with desire
now nothing seems, all fallen though once higher
than love's sweet dream that waking quickly flees!
oh, love's sweet dream! the metronome-like waves
beat like a pulse, a love of moon and tide,
the whispered song has faded, bitter-sweet
and drowsy as the water near my feet,
magnolia now blooms near these old graves
and i no longer yearn to be his bride.