Posts tagged ‘sunshine’

November 30, 2014

The Morning After (Downtown La Crosse)

The morning after,

Early new day;
“Bar hair” and Fishbowls,
Smell of smoke,
Sore throat-

Subtle suggestions: Let’s walk down by the river.
Last night’s concepts seem less conducive to life.

Light which sneaks
Through venetians blinds.

_even though they are closed.

Painful to eyes-
And then a piss.
Then a brush of teeth,
Under dry lips.

Stiff tender bits-

The evening before, knowing full well it would come to this.
Downtown: the nightlife, old friends, the drinks, to witness.

May 5, 2014

Pre-Game Summer (Mayday 2014)

Of early summer days, at the parade:

When late hands adorn grease and dirt,
Evidence produced of work and worth.

Beer stains on shirt-
What’s worse?

A face tight from sun bright;

Smile with deep lazy pride,
A good hurt.

Rode through
Commuting by
What exercise?
What a great time.

Things not done in winter,
Don’t think of that,

–Think of that.

Minnesotans had become bitter;
Now back.

In groups we relax.

Clear skies managed weather apropos for on-the-go.


Until night

With the cricket songs
And the crowds gone

We ride our way back,
And wake with the morning light.

April 7, 2014

Warm Daydream

Lofty clouds amassed,
Images of which to defuse
Hung high mingled against cool inoffensive air
Robin’s eggshell-blue lay o’er matted grass hard hazel hue,

Horizon wears;
Faded fable
Collecting odd glares
As the willing and able

Constantly circling the direction of perched Cock,
High, going all spun round
Oh, please come down, a sight not to mock

Shut-up, shut-in, sit straight, out of side-
What was impossible is now probable and ascribed

Fond apathy now bruised- speak of senses, sneakers: tied shoes- dried and rash, none could chance a comparison for truth

Left those pedestrians and people-watchers completely confounded; light thought that drowns the senses, unawares and confused.

March 10, 2014

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes/ Relatively Obscure

(Now) The Land of 10,000,000 Lakes

By Terry Scott Niebeling


Relatively Obscure;

But Only Now,

This year


(Must’ve been the Weather)


Thoughts at present

Winter resentment


(Had to’ve been a Tasteless Pleasure)




Rhymed lines


Blank verse




Beer on a deck


Sunburns that hurt


Been stuck-inside-life


There’s nothing worse


Darkest before the light


Patience makes all the worth


(Blinded by the light-eyesight)


Times in the Midwest

With the new season we’ll wear less for dress:


Abandon bundles…

Step through Puddles…


Avoid Potholes and Passive Aggressive Mumbles.


We still (always) look forward to the warm days ahead,

Sunlight makes it easier to leave the bed.  

September 23, 2013

Midday Theater

Open pages from an open book wave in an open breeze,
Taking on open looks.

As leaves atop trees.
Mind at ease.
Stand steady stiff knees-we need you.

Sounding gusts forbode of a chilling breeze, goose-bumps, as bodies jerked, shook and teased, a telling tale; reaction release.

Alive, a man stood watching in disbelief.
Out of the corner of my eye.

Poignant sum of a forgotten movie scene.

An apple as a weight would stop this play.

What have we here?
Theater Midday.

Amongst decades of culture, insects, thick green, and bright golden sun rays.
At the epicenter of vocation, progression, and ever changing minds, they, most, just walked by.

All unawares.

Cares as clouds in the sky.

August 7, 2013

American Peanut Butter Toast

“Maybe some peanut butter…

Or other stuff if there isn’t enough.”


I confusedly spoke standing center kitchen.

The yellow drop-leaf table listened.


Likewise, she stood as if she had sort of missed something.

Almost leaning, almost touching stacked upright drying dishes.


The Leopold Stickley held ground on four legs, glistening under energy-efficient bulbs, acting convenient witness.

Not speaking by fault.  Wanting not to pick scabs, or pull out prematurely healed stitches.


I stood on two legs in my boxers looking for a sitting contraption.

She stood the same as I, watching, waiting for a different reaction.

We all exuded patience-I, my companion, and the inanimate furnishings in our location.


Morning time.  Glory be mine.  We are all fine.

These are just different situations.


We really are.

All Americana and cohabitation,

And then we were off to work.