My Foe, the poet

That most despicable foe
who was a brigand
you know
IQ lower than mine
- of course -
both of us
on par
with our horse
But from
his wee aberrant brain
leaked (I suppose this proves it)
wisdom
- He said it, He did -
irrefutable... intelligent... thought
that in my
criticism
of him
lurked
envy

The Mountain

A thousand years
and a whole lot more
cross wave tossed sea he rowed
his punishment
to move the mount
one grain of sand each load

For countless years
and countless trips
contrary winds he fought
but the seas grew calm
and the mountain flat
and his pardon he had bought

My job is done
across the sea
now stands
your mighty mount
the jailor smiled
one detail left
how many grains
did you count

The Dark Of The Night

I told the old man
I didn't understand
his porch light
being on all day

A little sixty watt light
isn't that bright
compared
to the light of the day

And at best
even at night
it has just enough light
to be seen a block away

So he turned out the light
and its dark out at night
since the old man
moved away

Why The Cat

      Sometimes I lose sight of why I started this Twitter journey and how Olde Yeller Cat came to be. We're all here for our own reasons: loneliness, broken relationships, escape from the boredom of being alone, trying to promote our writing, searching for expression in poetry, photography, art, or sharing our expertise in psychology, and business, or simply as an easy way to let folks keep track of us.

     My name is Henry. Olde Yeller was an alley cat I came to love; she isn't around anymore, or if she is she's looking down from her cat heaven. The following paragraph is from our first blog; it gives you a look at our beginning.

     Just like the skinny olde alley cat that was trying to rub breakfast out of my kitchen door we often barge into each others lives uninvited; we don't mean to be intrusive, sometimes we're just hungry, or cold or just looking for someone with whom to share our lives, our misery, our good fortune, or a meal. Hungry, cold, critters, and folks for that matter, don't have any politics, or religion, or views on how to save the world, or how to cure its ills, that all comes later after our hunger, and needs are taken care of, until then we're all the same. Maybe that's what we're missing, all of us, for just a few moments, being like that skinny olde alley cat rubbing on a strage kitchen door asking to be part of  a strangers world.

Dragon Mother Long Version

She fllew against the spin
a fight against the wind
a night that had no end

She fllew against the spin
diner's mouth watered
a fight against the wind
wee dragon long quartered
a night that had no end
red eyes in the night

diner's mouth watered
She fllew against the spin
wee dragon long quartered
a fight against the wind
drippings flaring the fire
a night that had no end

diner's mouth watered
wee dragon long quartered
drippings flaring the fire
red eyes in the night
queen mother in flight
bearing flame for a pyre

Getting Ready For Easter

Did you remember the ore, son

Did you remember the ore

I remembered

Did you remember the charcoal, son

Did you remember the charcoal

I remembered

Did you remember the fire, son

Did you remember the fire

I remembered

Did you remember the smith, son

Did you remember the smith

I remembered

I taught the smith to use a fire

how to turn black charcoal

into a glowing furnace

to melt dark gray ore

how to turn ore into iron

how to beat iron into shape

how to make three eight inch nails

that a Roman soon will take

and nail me to a cross

I remembered, Dad

I remembered

Copyright 2012 by Norris Trimm

An old man and a yellow alley cat

     Sometimes I lose sight of why I started this Twitter journey and how Olde Yeller Cat came to be. We're all here for our own special reasons: loneliness, broken relationships, escape from the boredom of being alone, trying to promote our writing, searching for expression in poetry, photography, art, or sharing our expertise in psychology, and business, or simply as an easy way to let folks keep track of us.

     My name is Henry. Olde Yeller was an alley cat I came to love; she isn't around anymore, or if she is she's looking down from her cat heaven. This copy of my first blog tells the Olde Yeller Cat:

     Just like the skinny olde alley cat that was trying to rub breakfast out of my kitchen door we often barge into each others lives uninvited; we don't mean to be intrusive, sometimes we're just hungry, or cold or just looking for someone with whom to share our lives, our misery, our good fortune, or a meal. Hungry, cold, critters, and folks for that matter, don't have any politics, or religion, or views on how to save the world, or how to cure its ills, that all comes later after our hunger, and needs are taken care of, until then we're all the same. Maybe thats what we're missing, all of us, for just a few moments, being like that skinny olde alley cat rubbing on a strage kitchen door asking to be part of  a strangers world.