The Morning Branches 

                                       hold their breath

                                           as

                                       Winter waits for Spring. 

                                       Molecules and atoms sing, 

                                       Skeleton-finger twigs

                                       twiggle in the morning air.
                                       Asking:

                                      "Spring, are you here? There? Anywhere?"
                                      Silence shocks hope to ice.
                                      Mountainless shadows
                                         think twice

                                      Until the stillness breathes a
                                      future golden, dreaming:

                                     
                                     A million shimmering green,
                                     Leaves flash brilliant
                                        under sunshine,
                                     in the slender imagination
                                     of the (pretending to be) sullen
                                     Morning Branches.

                                     Yes, they look:

                                      
                                      Austere, stoic, sentinel...
                                      Not inactive!
                                      In faith, they listen
                                          to the voices
                                      of those fallen to the Earth.

                                      Elegant in slumber, they speak:
                                                       "patience"
                                      Whispered in a slice of wind
                                      Across the brittle sleepers
                                          and above, enbranched, uplifted,

                                      Everyone smiles.

More Selections From 

Oil Can Pencilry 

                                                     THE BOY + THE DOG 

                                             Flipping through the pages,
                                             A Disneyworld of drawings,
                                             Rod found Odd, Roddity saw Oddity,
                                             --An Ottity in ParkerLand.

                                                         This boy: This dog:

                                             I saw a ragged blessing

                                             Quick-doodled in a quirky moment. 

                                             Saw, and knew--or--hoped and dreamed,

                                             This golden-curtain: Wonder.

                        The BOY:

                               No worries, hair in face,

                               Schlumpy, bug-toed, never ruffled,

                               Gesturing to the good, the upward, 

                               Things bathed in sunshine.

                                       The DOG:
                                             A blob on spindle legs, a row of piano-teeth,

                                             Ever-worried, not wagging, no, trembling,

                                             Not sure to move a paw or blink an eye,

                                             Looking up, to his taller friend, who smiles. 

                                                            The HAND: 

                                                                 In stroke and swipe,

                                                                 In tones sub-pink, crayonish,

                                                                 Dog grows a smile, too.

Bonus Stuff Video

                                              So maybe, I have... in-vision, or

                                              Tell-future spectacles,

                                              Seeing the speck,

                                              Envisioning the speck-tacular.

                                  For now, some hundreds days later,

                                  The Boy, The Plus, The Dog,

                                  Now invited to a green yard of

                                  Countries, Peoples, Children,

                                  Where laughter in all languages is the same.

                        And I wonder if the One

                        Who puts the dream of a tree in an acorn,

                        Planned cartoons from childhood ages,

                        Built a castle from a dog-house (in stages),

                        From a warm afternoon when young and old ages

                        Dipping in DrawingBook,

                        Went flipping through the pages.

Watch Episodes

That Was Quick

Here's the problem.

I'm getting older, turning into a

A. Wizard

B. Blizzard

C. Gizzard

D. Lizard.

And so, I choose:

A Wizard.

Problem solved.

            DESSERT AND A BANJO

   Bill is a banjo,

   Dollie a creamy dessert.

   Bill, Vaudeville Bill

   knows the soft-shoe popcorn

   straw-hat shuffle-dance, 

   pops one-liners, then slows the pace

   juggling soft-diamonds

   of wisdom and memory.

   Dollie, a quiet queen,

   hears the banjo strum,

   moves in the kitchen

   preparing quaint family dinners,

   emerges with a

   creamy blessing dessert,

   in the music

   of hearts by

   the fireplace.

                                                           SLEEP WARS

                                                                Through the night

                                                                Pesterings, Questionings,

                                                                How compare? Snag or Snare?

                                                                Future fair? Safety scare?

                                                                He lives there? She goes where?

                                                                Tugged and Tossed with

                                                                Crumpled hair, Crushing care...

                                                                Then, oh then: Light's brilliant flare!

                                                                "Trust in the LORD with all your heart,

                                                                Lean not on your own understanding.

                                                                In all your ways acknowledge Him

                                                                And He shall direct your paths."

                                                                                                (Proverbs 3:5,6)

© 2014 Filament City Media

a t   t h e   s t o r e

More Limericks 

(Just Because)

                                     LIKE A PEAR, YET...

                                   A man named Enrique Delgado

                                   Stepped forward with boisterous bravado.

                                   "A fruit! Such as never been seen!

                                   Like a pear, yet rippled and green...

                                   Try it now in your crisp green salad-o!"

                                   And thus was born the great avocado.

         WHAT THE GNOMES EXCELLED AT

In Ireland, the Gnomes known as Glimericks

Excelled at grammatical fiddle-sticks.

With humor and rhyme,

And a clever last line,

They invented what we know as Limericks.

(You saw that one coming, didn't you?)

WHAT POPPED UP?

The great Queen LaSnordia Snickle,

In a moment both fancy and fickle,

Poked a pepper in the ground,

Sprinkled sugar-spice all around...

What popped up? The first mini-pickle!

         GREGORIO, THE BAKER

         WHO PRESSED TWO COOKIES INTO ONE

The baker Gregustine Gregorio,

Was having a day most bore-e-o.

'Til he pressed two cookies into one,

Added a cream filling just for fun,

And called his new cookie a Goreo.

(NOTE: Centuries later, with the dawn of more creative and refined cookie making, his great, great grand daughter, Benadeen Fipps Orson, changed the name to Oreo. However, this explanation has become so long and bore-e-o, I think I'm starting to snore-e-o.)

                          WHERE NOT TO LAY YOUR HEAD

                      A cowboy from the old town of Willow,

                      Laid his head on an old armadillo.

                      The dillo jumped and fled,

                      The cowboy bumped his head,

                      Then a tumbleweed rolled up,

                      And the cowboy said, "Yup!"

                      And laid his head on the first Texas pillow.

CIRCLING

If my life is simply a boat,

And this world the river I float,

Please, navigate my way,

So on course, I will stay, 

Circling the castle in Your mighty moat.

              OILING THE WORD-GEARS

     We players-in-words should always be learning,

     Yet sometimes we tire from the task of word-churning.

     But these poems, one by one,

     Can make word-exercise fun,

     Limericks are the oil that keeps the gears turning.

         ON THIS FOOD-FACT

         (ALMOST) EVERYONE AGREES

A certain kind of food is certain to please.

Inhale of its odor? You're most certain to sneeze.

And all the names we call it are so easy to tease.

The names can be longer than a factory mile,

Hear how they sound and you'll certainly smile.

Even the photographer smiles when he says, "Say cheese!"

                      FISHED IN BY A FROG

                 I have not always been a fan of the puppets.

                 I used to think they were floppity fluppets.

                 So why write this in my blog?

                 My mind was changed by a frog.

                 I was hooked when I first saw The Muppets.

                               GUNN'S GUIDE TO SPINNING A YARN

                               (OR LINING UP A LIMERICK)

                           The Limerick Professor Truman Gunn,

                           Says, "This is how a limerick is spun.

                           Two lines set the trick,

                           Two lines go by quick,

                           The last line's the punch and you're done."

© 2014 Filament City Media

 In Ice 

January 6, 2014

(Click on photos for better detail)

NOTE: I took these pics at the front curb of our house, where water run-off had frozen in different layers, mixing with Winter leaves. No photoshopping involved.