Ripples
(1978)
Written under the name, "JEF".
The iron gates screeched, as they… And ghastly shapes found their way… An old hag, dressed in a hooded cl… Cracked her whip and gave orders t… Six ghosts bound in chains, groani…
The morning’s Sun peaks From behind black faced skylines That wait to be seen. Then the Rooster crows In hopes of waking others
Too many walks in the park, dear… Yellow speckled freckles on fields… Autumn used her brush In a hurried rush Now Winter finds grays in which t…
The night bore frost and the moon… To stalking clouds in the mystic s… At the witching hour came a terrib… It was the sound of a battle cry. An aging knight on his trusty stee…
If a Black-hole were a drain Its exit could spew rain; The rain being things it consumed. Look, another universe has bloomed… D. Thurmond/JEF
I understand your frustrations, I… Your in love and you want to be lo… And if I could help, I don’t know… 'cause you tried to build a fire w… Life is full of harsh realities
Seated on a bolder In the midst of Yellowstone Reflecting on a Geyser And a Bison, all alone. Tis my place to unwind the springs
Cast those souls to seas of slumbe… Just past the gates of vacuity, So they may sail a clipper, swift, Beyond horizons to nullity. Nullity holds no love or hate,
Too long the staircase circles Up and down the tower wall. The candles flicker against the st… As the servant shuffles through th… The climb is suited to a youthful…
Drained, like a cup that holds too… Dry, like deserts approaching noon… The inspiration juices flow Then turn to bits of coal Scattered like the sand upon a dun…
Is sandman seen In hollow slumber In halls of sleep Shadowed gray? Where be the rest
Like waves of the sea, The grain fields moved, Grasping the ambulant eye. In this place of the beaver, The lumberjack and weaver;
He stands on the edge of windy cli… Where images and shadows seldom bl… He closed his eyes to sees beyond; Beyond the whispers and the wind. Then he stretched himself, as if t…
There’s a wee little Bumper, A sidewalk toe-stumper, And he’s sitting like “Thumper” On the edge of a step. He knows where he’s head’n,
Dreams are much like stepping-ston… That you’re placing on muddy groun… Be sure your foothold is secure Before you lay the next one down.