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Sometimes, I just need to go for a bicycle ride, on my Schwinn Cruiser, around the Loop Road, Rainclouds or Sunshine. And sometimes, when Lifes circumstances prevents me, I do it anyway, with Windy thoughts peddling circles in my mind. I am D.M. Beebe . . . Born July 07, 1967 in Seattle, Wa. Sprouted one hour away, due North East, in the fertile Tualco Valley. I didnt really ever go too far away from the Valley, as I didn’t need to. As Life in Tualco Valley, seems to have always intrigued me. As I pay attention to the Valley, I do notice the slight changes every day. Throughout the 4 Seasons, within the Valleys full Spectrum, Rainbow array. When I watch, and when I pay attention, I develop many reasons. To have many thoughts about Life, throughout my Lifes Seasons. So I think about Life, and about Nature, and Plants and Animals, and Humans. And how it unfolds, within my mind, and my thoughts, and my insights. And so I write Story Poems of my Lifes experiences, and of my observations. And so I go forth, to reveal my conclusions, of my slightly insane perceptions. Thank You for reading my Poems . . . D.M. Beebe

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Shu Shu Ga -

When you see see it, you stop and think to yourself, what was that, was that a big blue bird ?
Its swoops in the reeds and cat tails, to evade detection, whithout anything, ever having heard,
It is so stealth, it is so silence, it is so elagant, so long leggy lengthy, within its silent existance,
Not even a green slough frog, can hear it coming, to defend against it, nomatter stealth resistance.

The Native American people, a different name, to them, they called the dinosaur bird, Shu Shu Ga,
It always walks in the shallows, fishing for minnows, or polywogs, with a long beak, to skewww ya,
In the evening, when feathery bird bellies are finally full, and its time to go nest, not low on the loost,
They take flight, in the twilight of the night, to the hills estuary evergreen big tree tops, up high to roost.

They stay there all night, in their old growth evergreen estuary, of tall timbers, on the big green hillside,
If you look from afar, you will see the tall group of trees left, upon the hills, the rest is a clearcut homicide,
The old blue dinasour birds, dont have many places left anymore, in the treetops, for their branchy nests,
After hunting in the valley for frogs, during the day in the sloughs, they have to fly home, after their quests.

The coyoyes howl at them also, while hunting in the valley at night, they hear sounds in the trees, birds ?
My farm dogs also bark at them all night from the porch, waking me up, off and on, making my dreams blurbs,
In the twilight, or in in the dawn, to see the magnificent take to flight, or glide and land, upon the thick, foggy air,
You realize that the big blue heron, has a respected purpose in the valley, its a iconic relic, prehistoric, very rare.

D.M. Beebe - the4beebes@frontier.com - Poetic Stories by D.M. Beebe : Amazon and Barnes and Noble online bookstores.

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