Sometimes I just wander in thought and come out with mixed bags. Here are two poems that stand by themselves and are related only in that they are poetry. Expeditions do not need excuses--I do them because they amuse me.
Primal Response
A penumbra on the moon,
first hint of waning.
Definition blurred on one edge,
night's light slowly draining..
Diana starts her menstruation,
the oceans note her flow.
Tides change to fit her condition
as crickets sing largo.
Slowly she is devoured
by the dragon of the sky
until fully ingested
as the days go by.
E'en modern man watching
feels a pang of grief
which defies science,
is nurtured by primal belief.
We fear she left us,
that finally she did die,
in unbidden anguish
we raise a mournful cry.
Magical thinking continues
as celestial rebirth comes
and our souls hear the beating
of the jungle drums.
Aspirations
All that I write
should be sensitive or wise
but the message
oft hides in snarky guise.
It's a little trick
that I did devise
to make it more palatable
to the mind and eyes.