Ramblin'

 RAMBLIN'

I was sittin' at a fillin' station

in South Missouri,

listenin' to an old Hank Williams tune playin' on the radio. 

While waitin' for my car to be serviced,

I sat rockin' in a springy 1950s lawn chair,

sippin' a cold bottle of Mountain Dew,

thinkin' about your cheatin' heart.

Lube job done,

tank gassed up,

I paid the grease monkey.

Hopped in my '64 Rambler

and drove off down I-44,

still listenin' to Hank

and thinkin' 'bout you,

and wonderin' whether you really were true 

or whether I was just imagin' I loved you.

© Breyel, Timm. "Ramblin'". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

EINSTEIN ON THE BEACH?

 EINSTEIN ON THE BEACH? 

Or, was it Philip Glass? 

Or, daughter and dad? 

What a time it was on Batu Ferringhi,

Penang Island! 

A minute in the hot sun in 1995

seemed like an hour,

but an hour with my pretty daughter

in 1995 seemed like a minute. 

That's relativity for you. 😊

© Breyel, Timm. "Einstein on the Beach?". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

STUMPED

 STUMPED

A solitary, 

weathered tree trunk

stood on the shoreline

like an Easter Island statue. 

This sentinel on the beach, 

unmoved by waves 

lapping around it,

gazed out onto the horizon.

Why was it here?

Was it the lone survivor 

of a long forgotten mangrove?

Was it a manmade sculpture?

Was it the remains of a legend?

A man bewitched

who looked upon the sea, 

mesmerised by the undulating waves;

who stood so long, 

his feet took root 

in the sand

until petrified.

I knew not.

And yet, to be safe, 

I thought it best 

to take leave of this strand, 

lest I be cursed,

damned to a similar fate

and be turned to stone.

© Breyel, Timm. "Stumped". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

Photo/video by Breyel, Timm. Pantai Morib

BEFORE I GO

BEFORE I GO

Malak Al-Maut,

you and I have tangled before.

In my youth 

we played chess 

at least four times.

You teased and taunted me

with illness, disease and injury,

and each time I defeated you.

I know the half light

is drawing near. 

The malaise of age

overwhelms me now.

I am an old knight

too weary

and too feeble

to carry on the game,

to counter and thwart your skills.

In the end it matters not 

whether you play 

the Arabian, Boden or Légal checkmate.

One way or another

you will  checkmate

and settle the score.

But you are not Herr Dr. Josef Mengele

to do as you please,

hither and thither.

Deep Blue is the Grand Master.

He knows my moves.

He is most merciful.

And he will remind you 

to be kind, be gentle 

when I slip this skin and bones 

and you rend my soul 

from this mortal realm.

Remember that old bard? 

The one who said,

"Death, be not proud.

Thou too shall die"

when all the dust of this world

has been gathered.

Heed Deep Blue's moves.

Be kind. Be gentle.

Let me go peacefully.

© Breyel, Timm. "Before I Go". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

DREAMTIME

I draw the curtains

and close my eyes. 

Time to dream a while 

and open the windows 

to my soul.

© Breyel, Timm. "Dreamtime". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.