Poetry...Okay ,eye rolls welcome, I guess

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Uck Uck Uck, bitches
With Intimacy

Where were you my friend?
Lost in a mist… you didn’t intend
We met upon a flying carpet…
On a breath of wind… that never ends

Hands held clasped in surrender
On this trapeze sighs the wind
A chance meeting a pleasant surprise
And there you were…. before my eyes

Now we share our time once again in such a casual way
We breath… we laugh… and we talk together… with so much to say
So take my hand and walk with me
As our hearts touch each other…with intimacy

this is a song in collaboration with Crane...just off the soundboard...a bit of dolby added...


Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
poems to lyrics to song and music

Maple Falls

We walk down a split rail fence
Past the gentle chorus of water from a spring

Surrounded by hills that hug you close
Past weathered trunks lit by the pale of the light

Comforted by sheltering clouds
From above the patter of hail
A squalling message…. whispered from above

And love…. with solitude and quietness
The fall is here and this is where we live…. in
Maple Falls

As leaves drift and dance…in
Maple Falls
From arms stretched above…in
Maple Falls
Holding us in a kind of slumber…in
Maple Falls
As we enter our cabin caste in umber…in
Maple Falls

Lyrics by Leslie H Skip Enge
Music and sound production by
Richard Alan Krieger aka Crane
Copyright © 2020


Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
The Lake

Pastoral haze evocative water
The grass is set into a mobile sonata
Conducting a semblance in the cool breeze
The conductor instructs ultramarine cast shadows

In the sky and the water
We hear sonic whispers from the lake
A subtle calling a chant just for us
That we are lucky to experience as
We see… feel and live

The Lake is a crucible a clasping of earth’s hands
The water of life is there and understands
We must see this to know what is important and real
The Lake is here right in front of us
To help us reflect and heal

Lyrics by Leslie H Skip Enge
Music and sound production by
Richard Alan Krieger aka Crane
Copyright © 2020

Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
The Firebrand

So I met a fire
She bristled sparks
And flew into
The heavens
Then I saw
The glow of passion

In words and remarks
A firebrand
Leading an assault
Of complete salt
Such resilience
And temerity

I admire that
Indelible thoughts
Lunge forward
That fire of 
That intellectual
Hat trick
Sparking thoughts
That make me

Think again
And again
She discerns
Responds and

Makes me realize
My concerns
Are frivolous

Just self indulgent
Communing of spirit

Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
The Watcher

As I woke
The watcher
As an observer
A fleeting instance
Winged soul winged heart
As an observer
Stretching erect
Peeling paint on
Mildew and coffee stained
Paper . I leave a message in
The accumulation of dust
To find later
How did I find this place
Memories mirror or
Has my life skipped a beat
Finding instead this
Interactive vissage
Bound by dream time
Limits this interaction
I am an observer of my own life
Cage free pantomime syllabus
Can I touch that over there
I better not concede
To that which is beyond
The kingdom of me
My lips sealed
No sound here
As if an observer
Was out of work i was down and there was no one around days where long and seemed to go on and on then I awoke out the door I went fly rod in hand I didn’t go far I fished hard rain or shine I didn’t mind it was sublime . I released all of my fish I liked watching them slowly swim away so that someone can catch them another day . Back to work I go that’s ok fishing brought me back today and taught me how to be myself in a special way


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Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
I dig that one, man. Nice.
you wrote one and posted so I don't generally write haikus but understanding the form I did...writing about the natural world seems to come easier to me the older I get.. Sort of that realization with my main thing painting...at some point after 30 years into it I just allowed myself to think...I am getting pretty good at this...weird feeling...I am just practicing...


Active Member
OK Skip, Just so you know we're not all uncultured heathens ;) , or at least that a few of us are (shockingly) related to people with some class - here's a bit of prose that came with the Xmas card from my 95yo Aunt. The art is hers too, but don't think she's still painting. Hope I get to see her again.

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Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
I have hundreds of poems. here are a bunch

Life’s Music

Music and creativity
Are a symbiotic communion

That compels
Us to integrate
Across all
We coalesce here
In this sonic realm, willingly
That helps define
Our existence
And heart
So we debate
And love
And compete
For this true heart
Of fealty and angst
Knowing full well
that we listen
To a different drummer
Maybe of another era,
With in fills and cymbals
Of a life we live
Or lived across
An expanse of time.


The enduring repast;
A beacon for the centuries,
Whose archaic mundanity
Traverse heavy weather.
Cornhusk assessments
Imbue this allusion
With humble memories
Of hemp cloth jackets,
Woven are these tomes,
Terminally contextual,
Unruly, though interesting,
These are the narratives
Of time almost forgotten.


What visage resides,
Behind gossamer veils,
In corridors of quietude
Both dark and light,
Beneath conscience
And above reason
These lateral analogies
What alternate course
In semblance
Iris colored and wild
Where with all,
Where all…
Synaptic sprites
Flee mind shadows.

Light Scratches the Sky

Thunder warns us... impending
The sky exerts An alarm
As if existence were upending
Inky dark hues advance
With exuberance"
and no sense of harm
The sky explodes with light
The crack and resounding
Heavens face in a cry
Light scratches the sky
Speaks loudly to us
and surely can't be denied
You can't know...this eloquent show
That nature projects messages
To those below what is in control
Scratched light across the heaven
We awake and see the cacophony
Of a nature imbued with simultaneity
Count and wait then the flash abates
We wait as the display conveys
That we are lightening rods of fate
Once charged and struck we quiver
And run amok ...only to see that
Nature delivers a message to us
That we can't control everything...


I was thinking again
Wading through possibilities
of ways to convey my thoughts
Without similarities
I don't want to repeat
Where I have been before
I want to expose new ground
Once fallow but ready to explore
Wanting to be
Unique and real
When I just need to write
What I always feel
I contemplate too much
Think when i should feel
The battle begins
when i try to conceal
Those thoughts that are
Intrinsically real
Serendipity rules the day
The longer I'm here
The more that makes me say
I get that , it's very clear
I contemplate too much
Think when i should feel
The battle begins
when i try to conceal
Those thoughts that are
Intrinsically real
Contemplation is mud
Soiling the muse of my thoughts
Clarifying the could...
With what I would not.

The Wire

The gymnast
Walks a wire
Thin and delicate
Flexing ever so much
Those below watch
Gape mouthed, waiting
For a misstep to show
A fall from grace
An agonized face
As you fall
Dexterity and temerity
You have the gall
To act accordingly
As all watch
Risk is there
As we play
This game of life
And decide what
Step to take
If our balance
is there
A trace to be seen.


When a trumpet sounds
The revelry gets attention
It's heraldic, a personal alarm
A wake up, an intervention
Analogy suggests
An immediate reaction…
Snap upright, stand tall
Wary of harm
Some of us hear
Trumpets bugle
All the time…
Some wait for it
As a signal to react
With no self motivation
Response or tact
Some wait for a trumpet
Seizing a chance to exact
Exactly we think…
This revelry states
Holding back
A natural response
In this we protract
Be self motivated
Intuitive and free
To express in action
Act on what we see
Inhibition is an albatross
Around our neck
Preventing concise response
We know to extract
What our personal trumpet
Tells us through nuance
Don't hold back
and just wait
For the clarion call
Make life count
And seize the moment
Above all.

Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
What Matters

As you age you realize
Humor is all you got
Everything else falls apart
Some say with age
You accrue wisdom
Well I don't know about that
Older may be bolder or not
More opinionated, maybe
More balanced or
I would like to think
It's an attitude that's pure
What matters are
The things you do
The head and heart
You imbue
What matters most
Is to be true
To what really matters

Skip Enge

Uck Uck Uck, bitches
This is not NFR...Ha!


There is this little stream
Nerarby, I can hear it
A little riffle, a small dream
It calls me, It beckons

I visit whenever I can
I can't explain exactly...
But the beckoning voice
Calls me often

Water over rock
A chorus glistening
In daylight and moonlight
Its' mood calls
With meaning

Just a little riffle
A little wet spot
A vein pulsing
from mother earth

The stream,
Creek or crick
Wherever you live
It does the trick

There is a riffle
That entices
To those that love
Know what that is

A tiny place
A fish haven
A creature
that defies all

Water defines us
Why we are
We must remember
In all we do

Make and create
A riffle is a symbol
That life relies upon
This simple truth.

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