My Stream

Step over
Gray, twisted, steel cable
Or crawl under
Rabbit scampers
On trail ahead
Escaping
Late for nothing

Grass seed drifts
In through lace holes
Encroaching blackberry
Snags, socks, skin, shorts
And is kicked away

Narrowing path
Closes in
Quiet “plurp” as
Bullfrog leaps
From pond lily
In the sun

Path twists
Around and over
Root and trunk
As trail dirt
Darkens
In deepening
Shadow

Stream voice
Calls out a cool
Liquid beckoning
As footsteps
Quicken in the
Choking summer heat

Frayed, bleached rope
Hangs still
Over deep, clear
Green eddying pool
Lapping, tickling
Brown sandstone bank

Staring to heaven
Shoulder blades  settling
Into sand
As friendly water
Sings away cares
Of life


Ken Goree

Patches

“This boat is such a deal!”
That is what he thought
Though yet to be discovered,
The trouble he had bought

He needed a dingy for his ship
An inflatable, he sought
Patches was the name she earned
No bargain, he was taught

Ken Goree


True story … not that it sounded like a lie.  My Lifelong Buddy, who honestly is “The King” of finding a great deal, bought an inflatable “Zodiak style” boat on Craigslist.  He got a great price and thought he could fix an minor leaks that he was sure that it probably had.  Three months later and countless hours put in trying to locate and fix the leaks and Patches still gets quite saggy in just one night.  The poor man is getting endless teasing about it.  I, for one, have finally stopped pointing out all of those “funny looking puffy boats,” at the marina.  If you Bump into him, make sure you don’t tease him about it.

Captain Randolf

I got this here
Disability
Thank Gōsh It don’t hurt my
Ability
To plug in my stinkin’
Utility
With quite a bit o’
Facility

I find I don’t mind my thumb
A’shortened
Though I used to consider it
Importan’
It comes in kinda’ handy when
Cavortin’
Though the ladies still my advances are
A thwartin’

I spend my day on my sailboat
A’floatin’
Though with the motor shot where I’ll land there’s
No knowin’
Hope the Coast Guard will give me
A tow in
If not, to the bottom I’ll
Be goin’

I just had me a great big
Epiphany
The same thing my mom always would
Plea to me
If I put a few less beers
In to me
When coming in, two docks I
Wouldn’t see

Once again I returned
Quite alive
Although I was much drunk
By five
From another six pack I will strive
I’m sure for more days
I’ll survive


Ken Goree


I met a very nice gentleman on the marina docks this afternoon.  He lives aboard a small-ish sailboat.  He is friendly, outgoing and loves to chat-up anyone he meets.  In the space of five minutes he drank several large cans of beer that he had just picked up at the harbor convenience store; explained the wonderful bargain his boat had been; and recapped a story that apparently repeats itself on a fairly regular basis.  In this story, his boat engine always dies, but he is able to drift to his destination.  On the return journey he gets another boat to tow him a quarter mile from shore and then has the coast guard tow him back to the marina.  He is Vietnam veteran, with a thumb he gave for his country.  I liked his friendliness, a lot.  He is at peace with life, and has found a place that is comforting and welcoming, to him.

Echoes

Lonesome
Echoes
Where once had been
Laughter
Tears
Friends
Love

Frightened
Echoes
Where now there are
Alleys
Cement
dumpsters
Stink

Joyous
Echoes
Where there now  are
Mountains
Valleys
Flowers
Streams

Delighted
Echoes
Where there are
Friends
Family
Laughter
Love


Ken Goree

What did My Doggie Eat?

What did my doggie eat
I’m sad, I’m sure he liked it
Like many things he chews on
He swallowed it lickity-split

He snuck into the woods, you see
Far from my watchful sight
What would surely turn my stomach
Was much to his delight

When fine’ly he returned to me
He’d found a dreaded morsel
I’m sure he found the time to gulp
A tidbit mighty fell

Since afternoon, my pretty pup
He wouldn’t even chew
All he did was lie around
There’s nothing he would do

I had a worried feeling
That I knew what was up
That rotting little tidbit
Was going to come up

When evening came, however
Of vomit, was no sign
Could I have been so wrong?
I guess he might be fine

And though his stomach settled
Was not so with his bowel
He released from deep within
A smell, much more than foul


Ken Goree