Ghost Dinghies of the Doldrums - An older poem for your Halloween needs

unpainted wooden boats adrift in open waters

Came upon them, we did
the plain wooden shore boats,
 that normals as trails behind a ship.
driftin' in doldrums' bated breath,
we crossed this treacherous sea
looking for our fortunes and dreams
by raidin' the holds of others.

None were aboards 'em,
and no goods, tools or clues lefts
by thems as put offs some vessel
to seek the wind where she hid perhaps
or fleeing mad capt'ns rage at the calmin',
by takin' the risk of the deep blue below
and chancin' Ol' Scratch's glance .

Ghost boats the murmurs ran
as the helm were set hards to starboards
 as to steer rounds 'em by a wide distance
lest there be wreckage of another
that plied these seas in trade or like we
to live off others hards workin's
come up to tears we hull.

By consensus of the crew
under the rules we'd voted upon
when we raised the flag of black cloth
we chose to ne'er even looks agains
lest the sirens be usin' them boats
as baits to lure us to they clutches
to drags down to Davey Jones Locker.

Winter's Minions Are Here - A poem of fall and fear

The colors do not explode
across the landscape this fall.
It is more an implosion
brief in nature and destructive
though some trees do better
shining for more days now
than its neighbors seem able.

Then the blizzard truly begins
with the brown and dead
falling to the ground softly
before being whipped by winds
to scatter away from trees
where they once resided calmly
until Winter sent his minions.

Fall and the Killing Frost
dancing around me with joy
telling me that soon indeed
their Master will rule here
driving me down the foothills
to seek safer marginally better
places to sleep each night.

Now the games truly begin
the war between this man
and the ravages Winter brings
to the campsite, and flesh
where the chill settles in
seeking to freeze joints solid
as life's spark dies away.

19Oct2012 - Dyfedd Rex

Church of Autumn - a poem

Reverential

In the sacred ways they gather
watching the changing season
as the colors explode around them
standing in reverential silence
as the birds give one last hymn
before hiding away or leaving
while the falcon perches for a moment
upon the light pole seeking
one last pigeon for the long road south.

Drive-by Flamers in Upside-down Beemers - a poem about flame tossers

Background: So, there was this person who flamed and flounced on a writing group I have an association with... and reading some of the comments, I realized I missed some great groans and laughs as it went down on the sidelines and I missed it... until the "Strike Three" call was issued....
This was my take on the way it may have went, from the banter I entered into.... and if the person who flounced don't like it, tough... unlike the others, being homeless has given me asbestos boxers (okay, I wear jockey styles, but still....) so blast away.

From the shady internet alleys
their fiery projectiles of words fly
as they duck silently in
only to flee faster yet
tipping over the virtual wheels
as they take the exit
way above the posting speed
and trash their imaginary Beemer
(the real one already upside-down)
into the guardrails of etiquette
of the boards they defile
as they do their drive-by's
to deflate other folks' egos
with hateful and inappropriate posts
while impersonating folks with skills
they never demonstrate bits of
despite pumping their own press
thinking the bigger the balloon
the better their chances are,
not seeing the flames igniting
the cattle by-product they sling
nor the fall to come
over Polite Discourse's steep cliff.
Leave your own requiem, please.
(22Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)

Turtle Rehab - a Tongue-in-Cheek Poem

First, this guy needs an intro, after all, he inspired this poem.....
http://www.npr.org/2011/12/26/144283361/endangered-turtle-survives-trans-atlantic-journey

now, here is what I got from all his hoopla,

Saw a news article about a sea turtle that caught a ride on some seaweed over to far side of the pond, place called Portugal, from its normal haunts in the Caribbean. The said the thing had been through rehab and was to be released, and that made me ask a strange question....

What the hell was he in rehab for and how does turtle rehab work?

Here is my answer, probably not right, try not to laugh too much......

He was young and dumb then
swimming out too far too often
until one day near the Sargasso
he found his strength was failing
so he jumped on some seaweed
and noted it moved with currents
thus the legend of being lazy
came about from his long journey.

Day after day he lay there
dropping off only a few times
to grab a bite to eat
or cool off in the water
after laying all day like humans
did on beaches his folk needed
to breed and lay their eggs
drifting on the currents without effort

At last after many full moons
he found a new sandy stretch
along a shore that was strange
not the warm place of hatching
but cooler and with shorter days
where he hung out for weeks
until the humans caught his butt
and shipped him back to home.

They figured out how he traveled
after he tried it once more
but that box on his shell
told them where he was headed
so they sent out a ship
and hauled him back to shore
where they set him down firmly
and talked to him about home.

Now, this turtle, he couldn't care
nor did they check his answers
to see if he really reformed
so when the day came finally
and his freedom was given back
he waited for a passing boat
using the propeller to scrape free
that silly box the people attached.

I wonder if that turtle pshychologist
will write up a paper soon
about his wonderful program of treatment
until he is forced to retract it
as our wandering pal turns up
perhaps on the Riviera this time
or some Greek island's warm bays
sunning himself with a turtle smirk.

I hope to read that paper
I kind of want to know
what Turtle Rehab is really like
and if he got federal dough
to support him like the others
who go through twelve step programs
and wash out or fall back
upon their old ways once done.

I imagine we will soon see
just how effective it really was
but I like my own vision
of him laying once more time
upon a raft of thick seaweeds
acting like an explorer of old
seeking new lands to settle upon
even if just for a while.

(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)