“No Refuge!”

The Raven screeches, “No Refuge!”,
and winter blows cold bleakness.

The Hawk dives in for the kill,
as night coats all in dark aloneness.

The Shark shows no mercy to feed himself.
Deep water swirls over, cutting off hope and breath.

The black Snake hisses slander and gossip
to those who feel bloatedly proud to “know”.

The Pharisee executes “judgement!, Shunning!”
Those sticks and stones wound, and kill faith.

The one who causes others to trip and stumble,
t’would be better he have a large millstone around his neck
and be drowned in the depths of the sea.

Life Annotated, Sincere Request (self-centered version)

Possibly foolish at times
Loves flowers
Even vegetable gardens
Asks for help
Eases into conversations carefully
Direct in thought
Overt lover of classical music
Needs her loyal friends
Tendency toward prolix
Fails to get it right, often
Or at least sometimes
Reads too much
Gossamer wings enchant her
Even tempered
Tolerably good at chess
Marvels at sunsets
Endless source of dumb poems


The Geese
congregate on the
Lake in the City because they feel
safe there. 
These havens are for when they
need food and fellowship.  They make these stops
on their way 
south, where it will be warm and sunny. And
they thumb their beaks at hunters.

They look down from their V shaped height, and
feel sorry for the White Geese,who are
slaves to men.  Their ends are sure,
and Pâté is scheduled.
And they can’t

©October 2012. Pam J.

These things of mine

Large King James sitting way up front
with fluffed up feathers taking notes
These pompous things distract me

A new thought thrills us
rhyming into poetry or a talk
we feel more love that day
These self-centered things detract me

Traditions that mean something to the group
that hold more firmly than a verse in scripture
though thread and ropes attempt to tie it
These dried up things despise me


Smells of early Spring

The smells of spring tiptoe
pungently around
my olfactory nerves

making themselves known in
a hundred different scents.

 Determining which they all are
and what they are from

might take longer than
they would last

since they are fleeting with
the earliness of the season

and the fickleness of the weather.

 Guidebook in hand,
sounds are more readily identifiable

one can pick out
the very temporary call
of the Buffleheads as they stop

briefly, to refresh in the pond
on their way further north.

 The Canada Geese
honking their presence

don’t seem to bother
the more permanent members of the yard

who know their place
and take it year after year.

 I am not fooled by
their apparent flattery;

they come to eat,
and for each other.

Will they still be here
when I’m not?