Aging is on my Side


Aging is on my Side

Wrinkles in time, smoothing the way

Photo by Michael Davis on Unsplash

Aging is on my side
with wrinkles in time unfolding
multiplying layers — painted
on the faces of those awaken
and asleep alike.

Present are we
spoken words — filtered
heart voicing peace
in the distant
near as hand-holding true.

Given space
forsaken souls — crying
out songs of sadness
listening for retorting
welcoming tune.

Walls higher
than heavens gate —
walls crashing down
brick by brick
emptiness is all that remains.

A child-like
opportunity presents
rattlers and shakers —
drumbeats four to seven
beats per second.

Emptiness filled with
cosmic fluidity —
entering a new galaxy
left chosen
creating a new one at best.

New galaxies
thought-based reality
shifting into a growing
creative understanding —
seeing with greater perspective.

Signs drifting
heretofore —
embodying emptiness
filling broken hearts
with a new guiding star.

Time slowly
drifting —
speed of light
blinks another thought
into fruition.

Playtime
comes at any given moment
acceptance — of whispered
healing into hearts
true home.

~Ani Po


This piece was a reflection of Linda Sharp recent poem…


Slowly, slowly, I am drifting…


Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

Elmer Fudd


Elmer Fudd

Rabbit Season — Duck Season

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

Pop, pop, pop,
goes the weasel yet pops.
Break of dawn
sounds of battlefields
when will they stop?

Send in the hounds
AI disrupting the calls.
Two in boat
retrievers for the man
laying on his back.

Old ways retrieving
shorthairs gone.
Now trolling motors
waiting with extended site
to collect carnage left in wake.

Hours passing by
pop, pop, pop
goes the cannons call.
Returning to the scene
of the crime
bagging and tagging a few more.

Daffy, Bugs, and Elmer
arguing to what day it is.
When will it stop?
a fortnight, maybe times two.

Walking water’s edge
Chequamegon Bay
tainted by bloodshed
of a foul and disturbing thought.

Hunter’s claim
yet another soul.
Lost are the free
spirited quackers
bathing in blood of their brothers and sisters.

~Ani Po

Hunter in upper left corner — laying duck blind. Retriever in lower right — powered by trolling motor. Photo by Author

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash