“As the Young Ones Fall In Love”

They stand in the obscuring foliage

Searching each other………

Her fragrant breath seeps into his lungs.

Much like a drug.

The melody of the birds……

The murmur of the bees……

With fingers touching fingers;

His anticipation ascends……..

Tension in her chest;

evoked by the slight resistance in her soul.

Exploring her inner depths…….

with explosion of his potential.

Drifting, she closes her eye.

Both unfamiliarly relieved.

With fingers touching finger;

The melody of the birds clearer now;

The murmur of the bees softer now;

The scented winds more generous now;

As they stand in the obscuring foliage…..

Loving each other…..

“The Lament of Loving”

I have a picture in my memory of a river trip,
with white fog flowing down
the Catawba river, as if even the air ran to the sea.

I wanted her to lie in the tent pressed against me;
breathing the air that drifts from the river at night;
dense with the smell of sweet maples and river algae.

I wanted her to inhale the smoke of a driftwood fire
in fog to thick to carry any sound,
but the rushing of water over rocks and the shrill cries of ospreys.

I wanted the musty smell of the tent
to mix with the breath of warm, wet, wool
and flood through her mind.
Until the river ran in her blood
and she could not help but to return.

Yet now, I lie face down on the round rocks and cry
until the drips from my tears steep down
into the dried mud and algae,
and the hot breath of the river
rises steaming and sweet around my face.

“An Abstract Painting of Life”

A loving couple embraces on the night of their wedding.

An area of white dripping on black,

A shattered couple stands back to back on the night of their divorce.

Slowly a design occurs.

A husband and wife are crying in joy for the birth of their child.

Black and white, so different as one,

A husband and wife are crying in sorrow for the death of their newborn child.


yet the two become unified when blended.

A dream home is completed.

Now blended, they swirl into grey,

A dream home is destroyed.

obscuring the original design.

Love and Hate

Slowly the grey begins to drip.

Happiness and Sadness

Again, a design takes place that is constantly swirling and changing.

All that is pure and all that is corrupt are interwoven.

Finally, a complete picture is formed,
only to be splattered by the blacks, whites, and colors of life.

The photo

Jeb

The reality of the photo

The realty of the photo

Jeb

Reflected Son II

Reflected son

Fun with photo shop

A Spider lily

A driving lesson

(For Tommy)


The screech of change rings loud
over the road of life.

Every moment brings us closer and closer
too inevitable change.

A sudden curve!!……

Tip toe through it,
keep control,
for the turns are the most dangerous.

It is in the curves,
that we control our fates the most.

Hold tight and stay the course,
as every option is so important.

Because after all the curves,
There is anther straight away.

Hope for the poet.(By Buford)

Sweet daughters muses
Apollo’s charges.

Fly around me Goddesses in your usual style.

I want not, to defy or contest you.

For I fear your reprisal,
Of magpies and goldfinches
Of blindness and Hades.

Fly around me Goddesses in your usual style.

I want your letters,
So I my combine them.
“To hold all things in memory.”

I run with the Sphinx and her riddle.
I run with Airstaeus and her healing and prophecies.
I run with the nymph Echo and her alluring music.

I run as a disciple,
To your feminine hearts.

So please, sweet violet eyed muses,
“Tell me a tale” and “Sing Goddesses sing.”

Give to me your gift of inspiration.

For you are the daughters of memory,
and I am dependent on you.

Fly around me sweet goddesses in your usual style.

Take me now,
to Mt Olympus.

So I my dance in the glow of a fantasy

Untitled By Wendell Berry

(I posted this poem because it explains well, how i go through life.)


When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives my be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake rests

in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into peace of the wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind star

waiting with their light.

For a time I rest in the grace of the world,

and I am free.

Enticing Melpomene (By Buford)

Inspired by the poem “Sweet Erato” By Raeen)

He the sot, in darkened ally,
Lie in rags o’er his shoulders.

Empty of fire, yet full of hope;
flask in hand, quivering in the early morning.

She the Muse, Melpomene crept into the rabble.
Revealed in cold contempt,
to his red and stinging eyes.

The sot in sudden fury,
bares his yellow teeth.
His anger guided by
self imposed tragedy.

“Speak ye not of woes , of loss.
Pour your flask onto the stones.
Cleanse your soul of lingering hate,
for tragedy visits you.”

She spoke in chanting tones,
and he lie before her.
Stretched hands to feet,
skin cold and clammy.

Now her hands upon his chest,
she chants her haunting song.

Through his quickening breaths
and fluttering eyes.

she leans down to his ear
“I take from you your pain and addiction,
to inspire from your tragedy.
So quit this life and all of its ravages.”

As tragedy lived
and death descended,
the Muse wondered
into the early morning streets.

The sot, lie dead, cold, and smiling
o’er streets of rot, filth, and tragedy.

Falling Backwards (By Buford)

Falling Backwards
(out of youth)

Oh what a day!
Long ago.

Sun, Wind, Water, Time.

“I would go,”
I utter under my breath.

Once when worry was limited by youthful bliss.

Once when fear was held at bay by delusions of granger.

“I would go.”
I say louder and more pronounced.

Yet my character hears and screams,
“NO!”

It pulls in both directions.

Like tug-of-war,
back and forth
side to side.

Or maybe.

Like tic-tac-toe
I can only win by
actions and patterns of others.

So I scream back.

“I want to go!”

But my character is strong,
and I am toppled by its persistence.

So instead I whimper.
“But I want to go.”

As my character pushes me,
out of my youth.