keyboards are like critters

with a hundred paw pads

in a grid facing up

as you type

it is like petting the paw

caressing the keys

and the kitty computer purrs

so when the feline kind

sees you in such rapt attention

petting the keyboard’s giant paw

kitty must intervene

and cull some affection

from you and your keypaw alike

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our voices

fill the expanse

sonic storytelling

with words that dance

the one with the wand

leads the four at the fore

as poignant contrapuntal

and firmament on which we build

oh weaver with the wand

casting spells for the forty six

who weave worlds with

threads of story’s tapestry

bows, strings, reeds, pipes, bells, and sticks

with varied paces, slows and quicks

each nuance spun and shuttled through

precise warp and woof of air

ecclesiastic incantations

summoned from the maestro’s will

by artful reading, care, and prayer

upon the sacred story’s quill

one hundred twenty strong

the mighty humble throng

intone each scene soft and loud

to tease the meaning to the crowd

en masse the one, four, score, and throng

impart each scene of glorious song

each voice individual

deftly follows quell and swell

from many realms of time and space

we come together to this place

in unison we play and sing as one

each devotee adds to the sum

we summon forth words who weep

draw each emotion from the deep

within the broth of song we steep

into the massive ocean keep

each voice who sings

and in each heart in which it rings

is blessed by the mercy of the piece

and hope may grant them peace

our voices

fill the expanse

sonic storytelling

with words that dance

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music i wear

my feet lead me

from sweet chorus

notes echo in my ears

words fall from my skin

harmonies tangled in my hair

step out into silence

swiftly my world fills

with the music

of another realm

moonglow sings in night air

chirp’d cricket choir

rings out from dancing trees

the full moon beckons

the music of night

has caught me in its snare

my skin sings with moonglow

ears hear music so dear

eyes ignite with delight

feet tap and toes tango

the crickets stop and stare

even in silence

my muse hears

ten thousand songs

the music inside

the music i wear

i call back to the birds

with what I’ve heard

they mock me

my mispronounced muse

but still i share

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sacred semis

semicolons are sacred;

dashes divine—

adverbs, chosen wisely,

can be tastier than wine

adjudicating adjectives

feels so fabulously fine

pick through your prose

comb with sharp steely tine

bundle up your missives

passages bailed with twine

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active ink

nouns are latent ink, washy and wishy

verbs are their strokes that sketch a story

pronouns play proxy when in a hurry

adverbs adamantly paint the glory

adjectives color both bright and bleary

prepositions are prepared to scurry

conjunctions gladly the others marry

interjections express sad and merry


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muse thief

have you blown a fuse

someone stolen your muse

it is time to choose

what have you got to lose

find that thief of muses

reclaim your inspiration

demand when he refuses

bring your muse sweet liberation

stoke your inner furnace

ante up and fan your flames

cast off the creative blindness

embrace the wild vastness

dance with your muse into the night

let your feathered fancy take flight

all your muse’s friends invite

make your phoenix wings ignite

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hyena doors

hyena doors mock me

stutter closed with their

heinous cackle

block my way

and there they stay

glaring at me

their cackling laughter

echoes in my soul

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