Tableland Talk May edition
Reply




All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not permit AI to use my work.
Each kiss a little longer
hands running through my hair
a massage of my shoulder
a whisper in my ear
hugs are that much tighter
gifts come with thoughtful care
the lifts are so much higher
the intimate things we share
welcome touches when we lie
lingering snuggles tight in bed
brushing tears when we cry
loving words never left unsaid
closing off the world around us
the opening of our own
full of love and trust
a permanent inner glow
holding hands whenever walking
some teasing and much fun
lost in each others eyes when talking
there’s no doubt about true love signs none

It makes pleasurable sense to live in the country
but I am apprehensive about what it means
when the blistering sun and a searing north wind
are set to scorch the earth when they rise again
I am scared of the new summer on days like these
marked for worsening catastrophes
where shimmering heat on the horizon it seems
prefaces the burning of landscapes by fire destined
to scour every countryside rise and glen
I feel the new summer fear rise again
I am scared of the new summer as you should be
when severe climate change dictates choice and activity

Love is oft mad
at least it is common
for those who are in love
to behave madly most often
whether love at first sight
or as an earned right
love’s haze can refuse
the darkest of midnights
to acknowledge or confuse
bright beauteous light
thus driving one to action
bound later for redaction
for as Shakespeare said
in lines wise writ and read
“Things bad and vile, holding no quantity
love can transpose to form and dignity.”
Ref: A Midsummer Night’s Dream II 232-233

I introduce the 60 year old interrobang
the question mark as an exclamation cue
the bang originated as printer’s slang
a punctuation mark infrequently used
query and emphasis are from whence it came
for the enhancement of modern writing
gives use of an interrobang strong claim
a sting in the tail for subjects disquieting

I hear the rasping caw of the mortuary bird
alone at the top of a single skeletal tree
black feathered reaper scavenger and restorer
observer for signs of frailty failure and futility
calling to others announcing death as imminent
there at the carrion end of the cycle of life
crow presence at death's arrival is prescient
beak and claw ready to tear and cut like a knife
the murderous flock train beady eyes on their prey
awaiting the moment they can safely descend
they utter hexes for stillness at the meat of the day
aware their role is to share in marking the end