TWO SIDED COIN

UPON SETTING OUT
TO INVESTIGATE
TRAVEL
AND INSTIGATE,
DIG DEEP
AND EXLORE
I FIND THE
GEMS OF MYSTERY
AND PAINFUL LONG
HISTORY
ARE KEY TO
ANSWERING THE DOOR,
MY PATIENCE
GROWS SHORT
AT THE SILENT
RAPPORT
OF PEOPLE WHO
TALK IN CIRCLES,
I LISTEN INSTEAD
TO THE MUSICAL
HEADS,
FOR THEY ARE
THE KEY TO
MY HEART,
MY SOUL SIGHS
AND BLEEDS
AT THE BEAUTIFUL
NEEDS
THAT EXLORE
AND FINE TUNE
LIKE A DART,
AS A LILTING
GUITAR
SOUNDS FROM
NEAR OR
SO FAR,
THE PASSION
STRIKES SUCH
A FANCY,
I FALL RIGHT IN
LOVE
WITH A MAN
AND HIS GLOVE
FULL OF MAGICAL
TUNES AND FANTASY,

PINK-PAINTING-001
 
NEVER TO NOTICE
THE MOST FATAL
FLAWS
AND ONLY BECAUSE
I AM BLINDED BY
TALENT AND WIZARDRY,
WE ALL HAVE OUR
HEELS, ACHILES
AND STEEL,
WRAPPED UP
INSIDE OF THE BRAIN
RUSHING AND RISING
ALWAYS SURPRISING
JUMPING WITH
LITTLE RESTRAIN,
AND SINCE I ESCHEW
THE PORTIONS OF VIEW
THAT COME WITH
THE GREEN STUFF
CALLED MONEY,
I’M BOUND TO RESOUND
IN THE PRISIONER’S
GROUND,
SALTY FLAT BROKE
GONE UP IN SMOKE,
SMILING WITH
EARBUG IN HAND
LIFE IS A QUEST
AND YOU KNOW
THE REST,
I’LL ALWAYS
BE PART OF
THE BAND!

©J.W. WINSLOW 12/1/15

THE MAN FROM PORTOLA ROAD

HE IS THE MAN
THAT I SEE IN MY DREAMS
OFTEN A PASSING
FANCY, IT SEEMS
SOMETIMES A REALITY
NOT OFTEN ENOUGH
BUT WHAT KIND OF
STUFF IS YOUR
DREAM ANYWAY,
A CONGLOMERATION
OF SENSATIONS,
TALL, SMALL
BIG, GENTLE
SHY, GRUFF,
SWEET, SENTIMENTAL,
TOUGH STUFF
FLIRTY, WIERD
A STUBBLE BEARD
PIERCING EYES
SMILING ONLY
TO SURMISE
YOUR MOOD
OR IF THE DOOR
IS OPEN
TO A PLAYFUL ROMP
TOWARD THE BED,
HE’S WAY AHEAD
OF ME
AND ALWAYS WAS,
FOR WE OF THE
FEMALE SPECIES
PREFER THE
FOREPLAY AND
A TOWERING THESIS
OF LOVE AND
PROMISES,
COME ON,
DON’T DENY
THE FAIRY TALE
WINGS
ARE PART OF THE
PIE,

CLOUDS SILHOUETTE
 
AND YET IN THE
DARK
IN THE HOURS
OF YEARNING,
THE REALITY
COMES
AND I AM
RETURNING
TO A SIMPLE
FINE WISH
FOR A COMFORTABLE
DISH
OF HUGS AND
GOOD SENSE
NOT A LOT OF PRETENSE
JUST TELL ME
NO LIES,
LET YOUR POWER
SURPRISE THE LEGEND
OF ROMANCE,
A SURLY SWEET
DANCE
THE MAN OF THAT
STORY
WILL JOIN ME IN GLORY
FOR A SUNSET OR DAWN
JUST WHERE
WE BELONG…

©J.W. WINSLOW 11/1/15

BIRD IN THE MIRROR

IN THE CORNER
BEHIND THE FERNS
IS A MIRROR
PLACED BY CHANCE
AND CIRCUMSTANCE
TO REFLECT THE
PRIVATE GARDEN
DARK AND LIGHT,
DAY AND NIGHT
IT JUST IS,
WAITING FOR A
COMPANION WHO
ARRIVES EARLY
EACH MORNING
AND SCOOTS QUICKLY
ACROSS THE FLOOR
TO A SOFT GREEN
SPACE FILLED WITH
SHOOTS AND BUDS
HIDDEN AWAY IN THE
QUIET, WAITING TO
HAVE A DAY
IN THE SUN,
BUT NOW HE’S BEGUN
TO BOUNCE
AND TAP
AND POUND,
THINKING THE
REFLECTION HE SEES
IS THE DOORWAY
TO HEAVEN,
WHERE ALL THE
SWEET LOINS OF
PLANTING AWAIT
FOR HIM ALONE,
I HEAR HIS RADICAL
NOISE EVERY DAY,
A CROSS BETWEEN A
PING AND A PONG,
RADIATING SLIGHTLY
ENOUGH TO BE OBVIOUS,
I PEER OUT TO WATCH
AS HE FLINGS HIMSELF
TIME AFTER TIME
TOWARD THE IMAGE
HE BELIVES IS A SECRET,
A HAVEN TO BUILD A NEST
AWAY FROM THE REST
WHERE NOBODY WILL
HARM OR ALARM HIM,

Bird in the Mirror
 
AND ALAS, I OBSERVE
IN A KIND OF TERROR
NOT KNOWING WHETHER
TO LAUGH OR CRY,
HE WILL EXHAUST HIMSELF
AFTER AWHILE
AND RETURN THE NEXT DAY
READY AGAIN
TO ATTACK THE PORTAL
HE DREAMS OF,
AS IF BIRDS DREAM,
AND I KNOW THE
SECRET WHICH WILL
ALWAYS STOP
HIS MARCH,
THE ILLUSION OF
DESIRE,
A FANTASY MIRROR
HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND,
AND FLAILING AROUND
MY HEART BREAKS
FOR HIM,
UNTIL IT DAWNS
ON ME
THAT THE REAL TASK
IS NOT THE HAVEN
HE SEEKS
BUT THE EFFORT TO
REACH IT,
TIME AFTER TIME,
WHAT A GAME
AND FUN TO TRY AGAIN,
IT IS THE STORY OF
NATURE AND MAN,
ALL OF US LIVING
CREATURES,
TRYING AGAIN
AND AGAIN…

©J.W. WINSLOW 10/1/15