Redemption 7 - a tired monk poem

a tired monk

 one of the last

sweeping out

empty cells

spinning dust

soft songs

hummed 

in lonesome halls

Redemption 6

i)

fists are flying
darting out
over smoke puffs
and fury

gym teacher whistle
slices through the taunts

  crowd scatters

hides


ii)

alone
post fight rest
writing
bleeding hand poems

Redemption 5

fingers are stinging
just keep singing 'em out loud
boot stomping
body shaking
bric a brac knick knacks
falling from shelves
I'm a concert in this house

Redemption 4

stoke the fire
wait
for slow steady coals

old reliable
cast iron pan
ready for fresh
thick bacon strips
double smoked

home baked bread
browned hot
on round rocks
mix in
river cooled beers
a most hearty lunch


tuck the pan
back up the tree
    for next time

Redemption 3

pulsing wood stove heat
swirls around exposed rafters
door swings
quick dash for another round
of snow chilled beers

smoke and songs
flow out
high

over the neighbourhood

Redemption 2

long way from winter
but hips still hurting
 from all those long
redline strides
 and hard hockey hits

today
wrapped in hot heat
I mow the lawn
ponder...
 that four goal game
 flashing fists
 locker room beers

Redemption 1

escape
soaring up
 high over broken glass

sweet distance
from problems
and lingering pain