Tag: poem
To Belding the River Flows
Infused rambling in dim-lit aisles, Strange vibrations heaping into piles, I float the river for miles. I say, “We need to float; float that boat, all the way to Belding.” This we did, and with the river, we sing. To an island, we came to be. “Let’s make some chili,” I say. Looking above in…
Last Day of Squirrel Season
So there I go, Off to the woods, on a sunny day in the snow. It’s the last day of squirrel season. Dad was supposed to go, We have a competition every year, to see which one will shoot the most. Last year I won. This year he’s one ahead. I’d like to shoot five,…
Check out my Buy me a Coffee!
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/RaymondStanton I recently created this page for anyone who may want to support my work. This is definitely not a requirement, just something to help spread my words. Thank you to all that follow me and enjoy my writings!
Winter Trail
I slide on those battered Columbia hikers leaning off the side of my hammock swinging trail side. The feel of warm wet socks from the day before slipping unwanted inside a frozen shoe. With the crunch of snow and clanging of spikes, like a herd of turtles we go stomping down that trail. To hell…
Where do the Beavers go?
Lying in a bed of grass, waiting on the unknowing slap of the river. Clouds roll like smoke, drawn to the ringed moon like flies on shit. “This is our river,” one shouts. “It’s not ours, nor the beavers, but we all shit where we sleep,” says the other. Trees sway in a whisper of…
Hello, Autumn
Hello, Autumn. Coming in on a wet breeze, Drenching your promise to the bones. Darkness now reigns in temporary glory, Waiting in dilapidated hovels for the horrors to unfold, a blanket of snow surpasses tortured souls in the algorithm. Life-suckers on the prowl with baited hooks lingering over weakened stock, the darkness has come. But,…
Cranial Poo Prayer
Rain pattered on the broken ceiling drawing Autumn forth like a tidal wave. Dirty dishes shine in the glory of the morning as a mountain rises on the bedroom floor. I have the time, but waste it I do. Eyes flick and flutter through exhausted ripples of something better off in the distance, but I’m…
Moon
Mystic skys swirling overhead. Weaved with the strain of duty. She beckons with her head. I collapse to her raw beauty. She lifts me from the material dead. I awaken gradually. No longer bound to the dread. Fulfilled now with the desire for purity.
The Slug
I suckle on nylon tents, titanium pots, and mesh-covered shoes. Once in awhile I get licked by strange objects, this isn’t old news. I was used to being flicked away in revulsion and pesticidal turmoil, on my way to catching the noose. But, I remain the same when the moisture is right and darkness consumes….
Slug Words 