Blog Archives - High Desert Art

High Desert Art

Dinosaur

4/30/2015

Dinosaur

If
Scholars
Dig
In
A
Hundred
Thousand
Years,
They
Will
Find
Me
Here.
I am
The
Bones
Of
Yester
Year.
They’ll
Gape
At
My
Size
And
Shape,
And
Never
See
What
Made
The
Better
Part
Of
Me.
Students
Will
Gawk,
And
Wonder
How
I could
Walk,
And
I’ll
Have
No
Say
As
To
My
Display.
Bury
Deep,
My
Friends,
Or
This
Is
How
The
Saga
Ends.

Wordplay

4/28/2015

Wordplay

Oh,
If
Some
Glorious
Inspiration
Would
Attend
My
Solo
Conversation,
Transactions
With
The
Language
Would
Bring
More
Satisfactions.
I carve
Words
To
Fit,
And
Hope
Folks
Get
The
Gist
Of
It.
A
Scrap
Of
Verse,
A
Poem,
Can
Hit
Hearts
Home,
If given
Time.
Remember,
Every
Song
Contains
Rhyme.

Lost At Sea

4/26/2015

Lost At Sea

The
Pirate
Self
Becomes
A
Stow
Away
In
A
Ship
Of
The
Every
Day.
Mundane
Tasks
Replace
The
Dreams
Of
Jolly
Crime,
And
All
That’s
Stolen
Is
Sacred
Time.
Await
The
Wave,
When
No
Longer
A
Slave,
You
May
Take
Your
Crew
Of
Cut
Throats
Out
To
Play,
And
Sail
Away.

8 O'clock

4/24/2015

8 O’clock

Through
The
New
Elm
Leaves,
Sunset
Fades
Rosy
Clouds
To
Paler
Shades.
The
Mauve
And
Lilac
Bruise
Of
Evening
Descends,
As
The
Light
Melts
Into
Grey,
And
Closes
Down
This
Day.

Encounter

4/21/2015

Solitude

4/19/2015

Solitude

Memory
Is
A
Net
That
Catches
Some
Days,
While
Others
Swim
Away.
Fixed
Scenes
Remain,
Tableaus
Of
Past
Times,
Faces
Of
The
Dead,
Childhood
Rhymes,
All
Stored
In
My
Head.
They
Reappear
From
Random
Years
When
I’m
Alone,
Like
The
Distant
Ring
Of
An
Old
Telephone.

Joe

4/17/2015

Joe

Sign
My
Petition,
Buddy,
I’m
Just
Itchin’
To
Have
A
Say
About
The
War,
Fracking,
Abortion,
And
Elected
Folks
Who
Take
A
Notion
To
Make
Any
Rule
Calling
Me
A
Fool.
I text
And
Drive
And
I’m
Still
Alive.
I proudly
Drink
And
Smoke,
Science
Is
An
Inside
Joke.
Don’t
Tell
Me,
I say
Every
Day,
I’m
Free,
And
The
Man
I want
To
Be.
Sign
Here,
And
Have
Another
Beer.

Flight

4/15/2015

Flight

The
Yellow
Plastic
Bag
Caught
In
The
Tallest
Ever
Green
This
Month
Past,
Is
Gone
At
Last.
For
A
Time,
It
Filled
Itself
With
Breezy
Pride,
Surviving
The
Tree
Top
Ride,
Until
The
Wind
Rent
Its
Side,
And
Tore
The
Bag
To
A
Rag.
No
More
The
Joyous
Pennant
To
A
Stately
Ship,
But
Ripped
Front
To
Back,
The
Forlorn
Remnant
Of
A
Humble
Sack,
That
Yesterday,
Was
Blown
Far
Away.

Elegy

4/13/2015

Elegy

He
Was
Widely
Known
For
His
Stellar
Brain,
Good
Looks
And
Irish
Charm,
And
His
Power
To
Disarm
Pretenders
With
An
Indulgent
Smile.
Not
That
He
Lacked
Guile.
He
Made
His
Distinctive
Way,
And
His
Thousand
Intimate,
Perceptive
Letters
Shared
Only
A
Portion
Of
All
He
Had
To
Say.

Weary

4/11/2015