About Me

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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

Monday, October 3, 2016

The Dirt Witch -

Clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape, clump . . . scrape,
The Dirt Witch, makes her way up the stairs, dragging her long, old, black cape,
With unkept long and gray, dusty hair, green mildew eyes, and yellow jaggedy teeth,
Crooked, barefoot, long boney toe and finger nails, with red stains, deep underneath.

The Dirt Witches cackle, makes you sit straight up in your chair, at the lonely dinner table,
Cuz you know then its real, and the warnings, are not of, a long old made up, household fable,
She is coming for you now, this creature, that lives in the basement, imaginations do create,
For the solitary young boy, sitting at the table, that didnt eat it all, and clean up his dinner plate.

Fear comes to mind, thinking back, at my limited time I had, to finish and save my own fate,
Apparently the Dirt Witch didnt mind, if I let my dog Chance help, as he never did hesistate,
And so miraculously, when I scraped off my leftovers, under the table, upon the old, checkered, vinly floor,
The Dirt Witch would go back down the basement stairs, and I did not hear her cackle, that night, anymore.

One night around 3am, I tip-toed down those stairs into the dark, thinking of the Dirt Witch with no food,
I felt sorry for her, down there in the cold basement, by her solitary self,  I do hope shes in a friendly mood ?
So with my little plastic bags of cheerios, chocolate chips, and green grapes, I entered into her dark space,
I waiting down there for awhile, disappointed, she did not come out, relieved, my mind and fears, I did embrace.

D.M. Beebe

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