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There is nothing a wanna be poet like me likes better than to share his stuff, so I'll take this chance to hang by a thread a couple of my post Ojai election blues poems. Thanks for the opening.
________________________

SADNESS

Sadness seeps through my window pane
Dripping clouds of bittersweet rain

I ask her what she's bringing in today
But she can't or doesn't know what to say

I hold the gaze of her soft brown eyes
Keeping back the tears of threatening skies

She tells my heart she misses things that were
When I took more time to talk with her
_________________________

AN INDIAN BRAVE'S WALKING TALK

My moccasins walk along this path of dust
My heart is glad it has feet to trust

Mountains on my left and oaks on my right
Sun at my back and village in sight

I fear the pale face's guns and his gold
His eyes are sharp but his heart is cold

He loves to talk and he hates to walk
He rides on wheels and he steals

I'd rather feel my mate's cheek on mine
Than all the while man's women or his wine

I should proofread better. The last line above should be "white man's women," not "while man's women," although my fingers might have been saying "wily man's women."

Thanks for sharing, Dennis. Bring one poem to the open mic portion of the Bell Arts Factory series starting again in February, or two poems (up to four minutes) to the Artist's Union Gallery series any Tuesday night.

Robert, Apologies for missing your reading. But I'm happy I ws able to see you just before the event at one of our favorite haunts, COFFEE CONNECTION (yes that's a plug.)

Here's something I wrote.

Today...

Today I excite the senses,
To bestow upon me their everlasting grace,
Like notes adorn the symphony of
conscious Being.
A hive with nectar and queens who guide an
army of delight and devotion,
Wings of an Angel fluttering in my ear,
Whispering, urging,
Gyrations of their lilac scent and
rose adorned countess lips.

Today I step with newly chiseled high steps,
Mirroring the future through
the looking of explorers eyes.
I course the labyrinth where the sun
breaks seeds through soil,
Where men caress the edge of time,
Where no prediction gifts me with its’ sight.

I jump sparkling like an opal dove,
Into Uncertainty.

Thanks for sharing this, Raymond.

Probably good to let readers know Coffee Connection is trying out new hours on the weekend - 7AM-1PM both days, which means they are finally open on Sundays. I overheard the unmistakable voice of Lisa Snyder from Radio Ojai in there just the other day, too. Not that any of this has anything to do with poetry at this point. But poetry and coffee do go well together.

Robert, the only poetry explorations I have made are in haiku. While it feels like "bush-league" poetry to some extent, I know that there is a certain sophistication to it. Maybe you can tell us a little more about haiku in a separate post and we can try our hand at it in the comments...

Fun idea, Tyler. We should have prizes. :)