Both Pedals And Paddles

Two wheels drawn on paper with a pedal in between,

The other on a side that I can’t see,

I wonder if, like lifeboat with one paddle for to row,

I’d cycle round in circles, out of steam.

Three-D is the answer to my pedal problem here,

And maybe to my rowboat and my life,

A little more perspective on the papers where I draw,

Two paddles and two pedals for less strife.

And maybe a few drawing lessons.



Please say hello to a new WPer. I know I’m going to like her words. I hope you do too.

Free Write

Just remember,
If you can,
that you owe me   nothing
because all we are
is existing in the same place
at the same time
or so I’ve perceived.
But what I owe you
is the world you know
and the right to be what means you
everything else
is something I can give
but you take at your own judgment.
because what’s farther than this world we know?
these galaxies?
this universe?
and I am like you
a small piece
of it all
of it all too great for words.

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Discovery Of The Day!

Less than three

Suggests it’s two

How to form a heart

Experiment with more than >3

Or equal to and splat! =3

Some things just work better

When someone’s in the know

Some clever clogs who worked it out,

< and 3 ❤ ❤ ❤ show!

Who knew!

Lisa apparently. Comments are so educational. 🙂

(took me a while to catch on to that one ^^^^^ and this one -> 😉 ) Expect a run on hearts. :/


Daubs Deployed

Whispers echo still, enlighten’d darkness,

Linger, longing, found in cyberspace,

Heard beyond all planetary, winsome,

I hear them then I picture words and face.

Whispers rise up, somehow are converted,

Awesomely configured, rendered, changed,

I can’t conceive of how a brain invented

Ways to alter speech, so rearranged.

I guess it started with some daubs on cave walls,

Grunts to graphics, pics for history,

Some cuneiform and hieroglyphs translating

Thoughts to page awaiting you and me,

Some ink pens then, calligraphy, that beauty,

Painstaking effort, patient and adorned,

Greek, Semitic, Arabic and Chinese

Marks upon some parchment to inform.

I’m thinking then of smoke and drums and phone calls

And telegraphs that sped the process on,

Who knew that one day someone could encrypt so

And fire words to ether coded, formed.

Thinking typewriters, TV and now Skyping,

Measures that foreclose the distance, space,

So techy I can barely understand it

But glad still that the progress had its place.

I’m putting down my pen now, words on paper,

Typing from the symbols, thoughts to all,

Sending code still daubed, deployed as little pictures,

Some abstracted, etched forever on my cavern’s wall.


You can be right here,

where I am,

with words that barely censor

who we are,

Pictures wrought and writ

ensure a presence,

as eloquent as spoken,

though afar.

I can be there,

right where you are,

in a crazy coded heartbeat,

transmission of the vowels

caught in consonants, combined,

Transference of all thought

in letter’d format,

Bringing close together

hearts and minds.


Birds On A Wire, Fish On A Spire

spires and aerials cropped 4

There’s a spire growing out of a chimney

on a roof

across my street,

there’s a fish and an aerial

atop them

where birds of a feather all meet.

The fish follows the pathway of currents,

head into the wind when it blows,

I see the wind’s movement in clouds there

and in twirling of fish for it knows

And the birds know too when it’s blowing

for then the aerial is bare,

home they must go to seek shelter,

I look then and no birds are there.

Sometimes the clouds are so gathered

that sky is a uniform grey,

no movement observed in clouds passing

but I look and I check anyway.

And there, on the spire where it’s lonely,

lives a fish that never goes home,

It guides and resides, forever turning,

in the face of all winds ever blown.

It strikes me then, spires and aerials

and fish and birds at their height

serve purpose beyond their creation,

I’ll keep looking and learn what I might.