whole grain goldfish lover's blog

The Odyssey: Polyphemus Chapter

In an island cove secluded and dry,

I live alone, a giant with one eye,

In untouched land with roaming goats;

There was no need to sail away by boat.

I have dusky wild forests and a sandy beach

A secluded mountain cave surrounded by speckled beech,

Where I could toil by dawn’s rosy fingers.

I tend to my sheep under the light bringers (Dawn, Apollo, Helios).

Lovingly, I care for my wooly flock;

I collect warm milk from my ewes’ hocks,

Receiving my due in creamy milk.

I put the sucklings to their mothers, heads in full tilt.

I stretch and crack my back with a groan

I grab a snack of cheese I make and own.

Rounding up the flock for higher ground

I roll back my boulder door with a tortured sound.

I saunter lightly with my many sheep;

Their purple fleece shimmering and mine to keep.

And strike conversation with passing Cyclopes,

Comfy and cheerful in the sheep’s dry copse.

My sheep grazing afield, I gather.

Preparing wood for soon cold days, rather

Long icy nights, black as pitch,

Would kill my wee sheep in a hitch.

Dry heavy boughs in hand,

I lead sheep back in a loose strand,

Like ‘follow the leader’ as a little Cyclops

And daring each other to touch the firebox.

Imagine my surprise to return Read more »

Dandelion Carnage:

Plant
Dark blood stains
The death stick
Weapon
Dark like mottled
Colored wooden
floors

Blond fluffy heads go flying
Pop

Tree limbs used against their will
Limbs of fury
Whirling about
Writhing
Sinuous
Optical illusion

Power
One sweep of the sword
fairy dust
Innards explode in a frenzy
The fluff
Slinking away
Seeping into the grass
Submission

Or

Covert operations
red is north
Red is fury
Anger
Passion

I am from the rumble and tumble of mornings full of dogs
A small earthquake vibrating the house foundations

To sleepy nights

Both house, people and dogs inhaling...

exhaling with a gentle whoosh



From long, dark, velveteen evenings at the end of a dog leash

Coasting through the night

a time for philosophy

And we do talk, letting the words and

 phrases rush out into the cover of darkness
Read more »

I am from the rumble and tumble of mornings full of dogs Read more »

Drawing Creating Alive

            I love the voluptuous swirls and arabesques

My pen creates, scrap that, I create.

The slights of my hand complement the scratches of the pen and my heart leaps and gallops with the surge of adrenaline.

I am

 anything

And I am

everything.

My breath hushes against the paper, upsetting pencils shavings and shimmering graphite dust into a tumult

Eyes roving over the paper in awe

The art of creating

Smooth white negative paper against positive scratches of darkness

Perhaps it is the other way around

My mind buzzes and my spirit soars in anticipation

Hushed, reverent breaths

Soft, an infant’s touch

Breathing, bringing, birthing new life Read more »

Drawing Creating Alive

            I love the voluptuous swirls and arabesques

My pen creates, scrap that, me.

The slights of my hand complement the scratches of the pen and my heart leaps and gallops with the surge of adrenaline.

I am

 anything

And I am

everything.

My breath hushes against the paper, upsetting pencils shavings and shimmering graphite dust into a tumult

Eyes roving over the paper in awe

The art of creating

Smooth white negative paper against positive scratches of darkness

Perhaps it is the other way around

My mind buzzes and my spirit soars in anticipation

Hushed, reverent breaths

Soft, an infant’s touch

Breathing, bringing, birthing new life Read more »

Labor Day picnic- a time to celebrate and organize for what’s to come

By Cai McCann

BURLINGTON, Vermont --- Monday afternoon on September 3, 2012 at Battery Park on North Ave., people were gathering. The first thing that I noticed when I wheeled up the remainder of the steep hill [merging onto North Ave.] was the smoke. A great pillar of grey, translucent smoke that emanated from huge barbeque grills, into the sunny sky. There was a multitude of people, some sporting red Bernie for Senate shirts among the crowd. The line for free cookout food was immense and snaked all along the park’s greenery, through puddles of shade, to the edge of the park.

On closer inspection, there were people talking, handing out brochures, and displaying posters. Clearly they meant business.

One paper given to me, presented the U.S. Senator, Bernie Sanders’s stand on the F-35 plane, the loudest, newest model of plane for the USA, but would bring down the value of houses in the vicinity, mostly in poorer areas. Bernie’s supporters say no to these new planes which are loud and unnecessary.

  Read more »

Labor Day picnic- a time to celebrate and organize for what’s to come

By Cai McCann

BURLINGTON, Vermont --- Monday afternoon on September 3, 2012 at Battery Park on North Ave., people were gathering. The first thing that I noticed when I wheeled up the remainder of the steep hill [merging onto North Ave.] was the smoke. A great pillar of grey, translucent smoke that emanated from huge barbeque grills, into the sunny sky. There was a multitude of people, some sporting red Bernie for Senate shirts among the crowd. The line for free cookout food was immense and snaked all along the park’s greenery, through puddles of shade, to the edge of the park.

On closer inspection, there were people talking, handing out brochures, and displaying posters. Clearly they meant business.

One paper given to me, presented the U.S. Senator, Bernie Sanders’s stand on the F-35 plane, the loudest, newest model of plane for the USA, but would bring down the value of houses in the vicinity, mostly in poorer areas. Bernie’s supporters say no to these new planes which are loud and unnecessary.

  Read more »

There was a time when I had to stand

 on my tiptoes and wave my arms,

a swaying dandelion

 in the wind,

to get my parents attention.

Time stood still.

I don’t remember anger, or jealousy;

not even my parent’s separation.

It was a sunny morning with

the sun oozing golden honey through the glass panes

leaving puddles of

 sunshine

on

every

floor.

He was like every other child’s

Toy

Soft, plush

Filled only with fluffy goodness

And cute, shiny

Black eyes

I dubbed him Alex

With my partner-in-crime, Alex

I prance happily

from

room to

room,

 encouraged by the wafting scents of bacon

sizzling in another room.

Gavotting into the living room

To flit to the kitchen.

 Finally, I ran into my sister's room,

 Alex in tow.

I halt.

 The room Read more »

BURLINGTON, Vermont --- Monday afternoon on September 3, 2012 at Battery Park on North Ave., people were gathering. The first thing that I noticed when I wheeled up the remainder of the steep hill [merging onto North Ave.] was the smoke. A great pillar of grey, translucent smoke that emanated from huge barbeque grills, into the sunny sky. There was a multitude of people, some sporting red Bernie for Senate shirts among the crowd. The line for free cookout food was immense and snaked all along the park’s greenery, through puddles of shade, to the edge of the park.

On closer inspection, there were people talking, handing out brochures, and displaying posters. Clearly they meant business.

One paper given to me, presented the U.S. Senator, Bernie Sanders’s stand on the F-35 plane, the loudest, newest model of plane for the USA, but would bring down the value of houses in the vicinity, mostly in poorer areas. Bernie’s supporters say no to these new planes which are loud and unnecessary.

Once the musicians on stage stopped playing we knew the speeches were starting. Quickly we got food and sat down to listen. The top man for Bernie Sanders, Phil Fiermonte, introduced the speech makers, one after another. Some represented the mail carrier union and read out statistics, which showed that the post offices were losing money, mostly due to not being repaid their over payment of money from a corporation they once paid money.

  Read more »

No rest for the weary souls

Only stands the test of time

From Grandfather clock, a chime

Death fines them a heavy toll

Chorus:

Silent breath to hold the peace

Strong hands to steady the blow

A wailing cry breaks silence

Pandora’s evils alone know

The brothers: preaching sermon

The sisters: a stone cold tear

And the child will wonder

Why beloved ones aren’t here

Chorus:

Silent breath to hold the peace

Strong hands to steady the blow

A wailing cry breaks silence

Pandora’s evils alone know*

Still, the morning sky is blue

And birds trill a fluty tune

Their lovely bright rhapsody

To heavenly births anew

Bridge:

Too many people have died

To let pass one death more

In many futile wars

Or on the turning tides.

When the weary souls have gone

The world spinning, spinning on

Like a child’s plastic top

Fueled by love and hate along

Chorus:

Silent breath to hold the peace

Strong hands to steady the blow

A wailing cry breaks silence

Pandora’s evils alone know*

-Voice in the wilderness

Running                                  running                        running            slowing           to a STOP

His body gushing with adrenaline

                        As his heart goes a-thumpa-thump-a-thumpa-thump     a   thump          a    thump                           a thump

Slowing calming back to the smooth lake surface

His heart   s    l    o    w    s   to the drippings of amber syrup, yet he still catches the odd syncopated rasps of his breath

                                    Striving to gather the air, like water to a man in the desert     Read more »

Poem 1: Just the kind of poem that gives you a little window perspective of a person; sort of a introduction :)

I am from red boots

on a sunny day;

the bare wetness of my arms

in the rain

I am from aching hands,

and silver fingers

that hold the page steady

Read more »