“Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis Vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo.” [from The Waste Land. T.S. Eliot.} ~ I have become accustomed to life. Three score and four- and I’m not keeping score- years, and there well may be more. […] Continue reading
…. simple pansy beautiful flower; in purple, else yellow, or some other color: what is your fancy? what’s your desire? I know. you won’t tell me what sets you afire. Ah! pretty pansy! so simple the flower: your nonchalant fancy I do so admire. two […] Continue reading
For Henry Loyd Smith …. I saw you there, resting there, supine against a tree. I saw you there, you didn’t see me, watching you at a tree. Your […] Continue reading
Did I do the right thing by stopping to visit? To pay my respects to his mother? Or should I have stayed away from her house? My presence, perhaps, unwanted. Perhaps I was seeking solace or grace. Contrition, perhaps, was way out of place. The quiet […] Continue reading
~ Bury me under the Joshua Tree, it’s said to live for two-hundred years, and then, maybe some more. One, two, three or some sundried hundreds of years, is for sure. And who wants to stay when they’re mostly away from Life and its Strife and all passion? I’m telling you, if […] Continue reading
Some people keep track of their dates as they went; I don’t. And others take care with the time they have spent; I won’t. I don’t know….I don’t count….it’s been many a year, sometime back when I was 21. I […] Continue reading
…. Cold is the color of mid-winter hoar; gold is a feeling I felt once before. Nineteen-seventy I hereby declare the end of involvement, unfairness of war. So near and so far, too close for some, one dearly departed from what once […] Continue reading
. Black Carrion birds encircle the sky, in search for the dying or dead. . A lone little squirrel scampers right by – A whole ‘nother world lies ahead. . Last year’s leaves still cling to the vine, they rustle and rattle in wind. . An old man clings to the end […] Continue reading
Dorsey drove his Ford Fairlane, he wasn’t going slow, up and down a two-lane road the side all snow, eighty miles per hour – Fast! in old New Mexico. ~ Not another car in sight when day got up to go, Dorsey swerved […] Continue reading
~ Old men at sixty, forget more each year; but once when much younger, a world, a frontier, old men at sixty were, too, cavalier. Now old men at sixty they forget why they’re here. Old friends get harder to remember, revere, as memory grows flinty, the past, unclear, old men at sixty […] Continue reading
. . Come now. Come and go with me. Together we’ll walk round the red Maple trees. . Down past the block, we’ll walk and we’ll talk – Old Henry with you, and me will be three. . We can make believe as we used to be – three old amigos, back when […] Continue reading
. . Damn! this is sad, now that Old Ed is dead. . What is worse is the curse, which is bad. . In the blink of an eye, we each of us die. . Then the last of the past passes by. . And nobody said that Old Ed was […] Continue reading
…and then she will ask me, to say something nice – there’s something, I’m certain, should surely suffice. My mind dashes back through slivers of time – To memory moments, sliced by design, and think of, ponder, give over to wander though time in the mind, is always together. Birds of one feather – a […] Continue reading
~ I write because I have to, the words are in my head! ~ I give them life, however few, rather than staying unsaid. ~ I write because I want to, a ‘have to’ I want to do. ~ There’s nothing else, as I grow old, I’d rather do, instead. ~ Ninety-nine percent, I’m told, […] Continue reading
Tink's ChapBlog ~ Tales of the Tribe. Mythopoeic Verse 