SpearPoint Publications

Tuck away some raindrops

Like a keepsake while you can

It’s up to you to figure out how you’ll undertake your plan

Surely, I suggest this - as no riddle nor a rhyme

For if we fail to catch them

They will only disappear to form again and pour another time

The happenstance of blues and greens are most pleasing to the eyes

When Spring arrives and comes alive again 

Like a wizard wand of colors brushed across this fertile rolling land

So, we breathe a little deeper just to slow our heartbeat down

Surrounded in the beauty – beaming, boldly, kindly - messing with the mind 

Sunlight kisses everything except in shadowed places

Brilliant faces looking back adorn

From tree nub into blossom, blade to grassy knoll…‘tis represented well’

Wildflowers rise to hold their ground pedaling their showy dress, impress  

Tuck away some raindrops

Like a keepsake while you can

It’s up to you to figure out how you’ll undertake your plan

Surely, I suggest this - as no riddle nor a rhyme

For if we fail to catch them

They will only disappear to form again and pour another time

Suppose the Sun spun away on a cosmic holiday,

Never spoke a word - just left us in the fray,

So much for the silence and cool demise

As we welcome in the deepest, darkest, skies,

Quickly we are frozen in our cryogenic space,

A different sort of outcome than we factored for this place,

So, does it really matter all we meant to do…

When Garden Earth turns forever icy blue  

Suppose we had one single chance…

To right the wrongs of circumstance

Boldly act upon the best ideas

To remedy the smothering, excessive, heat effects of greenhouse gas 

It’s hard to imagine our global village minds,

 Would ever agree - science could rescue us from the threat that binds…

As time to make decisions is slipping from our hands -

The tipping point is here right now but so few understand!

The weather prognosticator

From our local, locality news

Recommends – take your best umbrella,

Overcoat and maybe wear your trusty galoshes too!

There’s a storm on the horizon,

Watch Out, because…it’s comin’ - for sure, it’s rollin’ in

Unless you got protection it’ll soak you to the skin

You’ve been warned, you’ve been warned, you’ve been warned!

And then there’s knucklehead Norm

You see…Norm ain’t afraid of nothing

Heck, hail has hit his brain

Too many times to count now

He claims, he never feels any pain

He may donate his noggin to science

But that’s been a waiting game…

For the moment it’s being used says he…

Kind of, like a lightning rod of sorts

You know, a real live wire - conductor 

Crazed with electrified ideas

One step away from a thunderstorm doozy upon the soccer field 

Because he’s knucklehead Norm

He’s been warned, he’s been warned, he’s been warned! 

There’s an island in the zigzagged river, Zee,

When you look down from Daisy Point Rest -

Rugged, pine-encrusted, and wicked steep, it’s often easy to spot,

Unless low hanging weather huddles in…clouding, clogging the gorgeous view,

Into dogged, gray shaded fog…and that’s not okay! It ought to be on display. 

This curiously wild cone shaped place…

Has it seen explorers yearning to know what’s there? Can’t say. But, hey!

With magnified glasses you can focus in…discovering an eagle’s nest

Common sense says – dang, leave it alone, it does not deserve any humanness - 

Especially for the sake of the baby birds

Right now, it stands as a nursery,

Where eaglets call reciting their avian words

“Mom and Dad, we’re hungry…when will we ever be served!”

The young ones fail to understand,

“Fishing takes time, like hunting does too,

We will be back when those tasks are through,

Play charades to pass some time - to while your cares away,

Just listen to the river, listen to the breeze and the cracking limbs of the island’s trees

Or kick back and rest with ease along the zigzagged river, Zee.”

When me and Six-String found the right road

We’d stitched together a whole routine

Find a campsite, let the tailgate down

As close as we could get to a gurglin’ stream

Buddies sittin’ back, living the dream - until evening came rollin’ around

North of the Sun, givin’ how steady we’d go

Two souls ready for natures next show

That glow in-between, day, before night

When florescent light might surprise the eyes

How quickly it fades to bow goodbye

So, stars may take their nautical, nocturnal turn

And start…passage across the sky

There’s a formula I read once; I cannot remember where…

Should two legs and four legs simply agree

Forming a friendship - letting it be

It can last a lifetime and then some too

If memories count like old photographs do

Recording a smidgeon of past

Sure, as shootin’ we both had a blast

Maybe we should become a trio?

Six–String wagged his bushy tail

So, I nicknamed my guitar - Dawgster MaGee

My ancient blue pick-up responded to Clem

We camped and drove and camped again

Wherever music felt good to play

Folks said they were often carried away

From whistles, strums, or accent barks

There by the fire with cracklin’ sparks 

Me and Six-String and Dawgster MaGee

North of the Sun, givin’ how steady we’d go

Two souls ready for natures next show

That glow in-between, day, before night

When florescent light might surprise the eyes

Then quickly fades to bow goodbye

So, stars may take their nautical, nocturnal turn

And start…passage across the sky

Two cents, two shoes, two books

Equals a lotta stuff

Twice as much as one a piece of each

Lucky is the soul who has a shoe to fit left as well as right

And a penny to spend should the need arise

Plus, another one for saving, just because, just because…

 Rainy days will surely come - consult your weathervane

Unless someone cooks the books away too soon 

They say… It’s written in the pages – of the tome of good advice

For those who spare two minutes or more to read 

Two cents, two shoes, two books

Equals a lotta stuff

Twice as much as one a piece of each

It happened in Boston one sticky hot night

A shot in Fenway under stadium light

The guy at the plate was Gentleman Ted

Late as games go…it wasn’t that late

No score in the sixth, then the Sox went ahead

Ted creamed a high fly lofter to deep left centerfield

Two fielders scrambled eying his smash

The fans in the stands were certainly lit

He rounded one base then rounded three more

Back at home the concourse still roared

Cheering the run upping the score

As everyone rose in pure disbelief 

The announcer exclaiming…

“The ball refuses to fall

Above the Green Monster,

It hangs high above!”

It must be a stunt, a prank, or a fluke

“Some say…it’s Malarky as simple as that!”

“But how does gravity allow such a stat?”

“All that goes up must surely come down”

There was such a commotion - a ghastly delay

The umpires agreed to finish the game some other day

Soon headlines erupted in Beantown it read

“Leather and Stitches Stall Once and For All 

-The Ball Refuses to Fall!” 

By, Lois Lane - the Boston Globe

Mass speculation, mass spectators too

Scientists flock to settle the stew

Sure, as shooting that ball rests in mid air

Like an unmoving globe in Earth’s atmosphere 

But its orbit has halted somehow

As a relic you really ought to see now

That froze into history, as…

“The Ball That refuses to Fall!”

When winter comes it coats in snow

The spring rain rinses it clean

Some folks say it’s a perfect perch

For birds to pause and preen

It will not budge in the nastiest winds

The darndest puzzle unsolved

Pot shots may wish to shoot it

But why make a fuss or that call

Just let it remain as a known mystery

The Ball Refuses to Fall 

When the words don’t come

Do we sound an alarm?

Has vocabulary ceased, has this well gone dry?

If word fall is likened to raindrops…

And storms refuse to storm

Is this any concern at all?

Or a hiccup lapse in time

Perhaps a change of scenery is the best idea

Yes… something new might do!

We all leave a desk at some point

Then, nomad’s shuffle on 

Two hands groan with aching 

Please excuse the writer’s point

A respite could be the healthy solution

So, nomad’s shuffle on

Until new themes and beams arrive

After lofted views resign 

If a pizza went on vacation

Where would it likely go?

Probably not to some hot spot

Like an overactive oven or a barbeque cooking show

Nor the north or southern pole

Where there’s any chance of becoming stiff

Somewhere in between I’d suppose

Let’s imagine a coastal cliff house retreat

And maybe a beach filled afternoon

You know, go skimming over surf and sand

Like flimsy sorts of wannabe, frisbee’s can

Then land within the waves as an interesting kind of floater 

Rescued by a lifeguard because of a quick-thinking boater

So goes the well-rounded, sinking, non-swimmer guy

Who suddenly returns to life - resuscitated by CPR

And lives on to tell his worried wife

If all this sounds implausible 

You are astute beyond your years

For as far as sandy, soggy, pizzas go

Their bound to only bring us

 Gritty, bitty, bites . . . plus, saltwater, sparkling tears

So, Winters Solstice arrives and . . .

Autumn slips seamlessly away

Did she vaporize?

No handshake, no hug, no regrets to eye

Instead, a regulated, mechanized clock ticks

Finality finalized - where one goes the other stays

While most of us two legged creatures

Exist unaware of such grand proceedings

Immune to natural happenings on Earth One

If we dared ourselves to investigate a pinch more…we’d discover

Societal evidence still exists that our fellow inhabitants 

Recognize the comings and goings of seasonal changes

Within their hearts and souls, they celebrate such mystifying wonders

In fact, it is commonplace to gather, experience and show homage

For everything this natural world provides us  

Do words ever urge us enough to see for ourselves

How connected or disconnected we may be within our humanness

After all, it is our home!