* * *
101213
DECISIONS,
DECISIONS
Colon or semi?
I haven’t a clue.
Maybe a dash
or comma will do.
You think prose
is hard? Well, foo!
Just try poems;
they’ll try you.
101212
EARTH DAYS
“What a party;
but look at the hour!”
“Hey, old folks!
Yeah, hey YOU—
what are you
still doing here?”
“Frankly, we
don’t have a clue.
Take it up with
your Higher Power.”
101211
AS IS
Mean. Funny.
Friendly. Sad.
Of people,
little kids
don’t think
should be,
shouldn’t be.
What they
think is—is.
101210
WISDOM AND GRACE
Youth is the time
when life’s blessings are granted—
and taken for granted.
Old age is the time
when (to those who haven’t
already become wise)
life grants its greatest
understanding and blessing—
appreciation.
101209
IMPERMANENCE
Frost and green grass?
That won’t last long!
101208
UNBLEMISHED
Snarl, bite, curse,
do far worse;
my soul knows yours
as lustrous, pure.
The more troublesome
you become
(the more you break the rules,
attempting to break out
of the broken state you’re in),
the more you win
the love I’ve won myself
and now can do no other
than to offer.
101207
CARTOON AVATARS
One friend is a little stinker;
another, a happy cat.
There's a turtle, a top-cat, a martian—
and what-the-sam-heck is THAT?
There's a smiley one, a wiley one,
a minnie and a mighty one.
One's ghostly, one's speedy, one's jolly,
and one is blue, by golly.
There's a loopy one, a boopy one...
and I'm the snoopy artist one.
101206
CHRISTMAS PARADE
Winter dark and winter cold
seek something wondrous to behold:
like this festival of sound and light
that sparkles ‘round the town tonight.
Flatbed trucks transform to floats.
Beauty queens forego their coats.
Boom-boom-BOOM! The band plays loud.
Everyone’s enchanted… proud.
And there are angels in the crowd
101205
BEST FEATURE
Ours is a too-cold,
too-warm house.
It’s fairly open,
so we go barefoot
in the upstairs rooms
and sweatered down below.
One wall consists of windows
a full two stories high.
It only costs some northern cold
to view that northern sky.
101204
"SOCIAL" GROUPS
From surprise to frustration
and, ultimately, prayer;
group interactions
so often take me there.
101203
LOWER-CRUST
REBELLION
Don't call us crass,
or second class,
or dumb.
Don’t press us
under thumb.
We’ve been peons
for eons;
now that’s done.
You say cream floats—
but so does scum.
101130
THEY KNOW NOT
WHAT THEY DO
People
make so many people
miserable,
insisting on making them
happy.
101129
DEATH’S DOOR
Am I completely—
or just partly—mortal?
To my knowledge,
I’ve not yet
crossed that portal.
101128
LATEST TOPIC
Old age this.
Old age that.
What’s the fascination?
Discovery,
at least by me,
that it’s dilation,
not contraction.
101127
FEASTS FOR THE SENSES
Delights! Delights!
Everywhere and every when—
from last song of swan
to first note of wren.
Something’s always brewing.
Something’s always cooking.
Surely you haven’t stopped looking!
101126
IN WINTER COLD
Some written warmth
can be a shawl,
or a filling-in
of a chink in a wall.
101125
JO’S GIRLS (for my sibbles)
Five Little Peppers—
how they grew!
We wanted
to be like them, too;
poor and loving,
curious, bold.
We grew those ways,
and also old.
101124
MY COY MUSE-TRESS
I asked her help, a little.
She asked me a riddle:
What rhymes with "muse?"
"Come on, come on!"
she laughed. "Refuse!"
101123
FINALLY
QUALIFIED
Think about it—
if anybody’s
going to
explore and
write about
old age;
don’t you think
it should be
an old person?
101122
MIRROR MIRAGE
When I press upward
on my cheeks,
my younger face is there;
a toppled doppelgänger.
I must be careful not to stare.
101121
MINOR SHIFT
Once there was
a little girl
who loved to
(not write!) color.
Now she writes,
most every day,
some little thing
or other.
101120
HUMANS BEING
Their thoughts and acts stay bloody,
but reasons why stay muddy.
They fiercely study, but scarcely guess,
the whys of their perniciousness.
101119
RETRACTIONS
I don’t put pomes
on my action list
but very rarely
are they missed,
(except for times
when I’m feeling dull;
then, much I write,
I quickly cull).
* * *
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Faith, Fascination, Fun
* * *
100530
FAITH IN THE OUTCOME
Duck, the second of the pair,
was quacking mid-road
near the body of its mate.
It did not retreat when I approached
to remove the other’s body
or even when vehicles whisked by.
When I left, it followed me—
by then, we were both quacking.
The pavement was hot,
so I walked us toward a patch
of shade and grass.
There I sat, cross-legged,
while duck nibbled weeds,
and sampled me with its bill—
taking great interest in shoes
and rings—till it eventually
settled on the grass for a nap.
I considered our options.
No point in delaying.
I rose and quickly walked away,
trusting in nature and instinct
to make the proper resolution,
not daring to look back—
until, of course, I did.
Duck was quacking mid-road.
100529
EVERYTHING
Wow.
UNIVERSALL
Each. All.
Every. One.
Within, without
and under the sun—
every doing
is a being-done.
100528
PREP TALK
“Work. Work out.”
That’s my code.
Time to go; gotta carry my load.
Here’s where the rubber
meets the road.
Can’t stay here
like a big fat toad.
Gotta get my butt on the road.
Here’s where the blubber
meets the road!
UMBRELLA (for Lisa)
Today was only foggy—
but better safe than soggy!
BUSHED
Feeling unergetic today.
(That’s a real word;
I’m too tired to make one up.)
100527
TO BELIEVE, BELIEVE
The story
of the mustard seed
is somehow mustard-treed.
Would you believe—
a mustard tree?
Never seen one!
Can it be?
There is one thing
I believe:
it takes faith,
that mustard-seed creed.
BE-LOVE-ED
The rising of the land.
The sinking of the sea.
The epoch of each creature;
its brief ascendancy.
Gaia, what have I to offer
but rough humanity?
As long as you are loved,
it needn’t be by me.
SEEK AND BE FOUND
What is it that you seek?
...To end, begin.
You are made in likeness.
...Look within.
You are the truth you speak.
...You are the answer you seek.
NOT YOUR KEEPER
Pardon me,
dear sir, dear ma’am—
do you take me for a fool
fool enough to give a damn?
LITTLE BO PEEP
AND SHEPHERD BOY
“Your debt is due,
but I’ll steer clear
of lambs and rams.
May I take a ewe?”
“Hardly, ma’am—
that will not do!
Frankly, my dear,
I don’t give a dam.”
CANADIANS
Geese ahead, and flying low.
I have yet to see them, though;
fog is rising from the lake.
I stand alert at water’s edge,
as the fog turns more opaque,
to wait the coming of the wedge.
No sooner do the geese appear
than their wedge must split or veer.
With whoosh of wings,
they rise instead,
passing barely overhead,
startled at the sight of me
flapping arms in mimicry.
[ASIDE: I took liberties with the truth.
The geese saw me from a greater distance;
their wedge was already broken, and it passed
on either side of me, but barely overhead.
The wing-whoosh sound was impressive.
Of course, the most prominent aspect of the
fly-by was the sound of their honking; I hope
you supplied it.]
100526
AINA NANI
If age is just a state of mind,
one I can embrace,
let mine be Hawaii
or some equal state of grace.
CAREER
If nursery rhymes don’t warp you
toward life as a poet,
cartoons might, to your sorrow.
I trace my happy affliction to
Popeye’s cartoon segment,
"Hair today. Goon tomorrow."
HI SIGN
There’s nothing
regarding a poem
that you ought to do.
Each one's just a pointer
to the poet inside of you.
OBSESSION
First you pursue.
Then it does you.
FAME? ACCLAIM?
Thank you, no,
I’m not quite ready
for adventure
half so heady.
100525
POEM PLACE
A patch of white
serene as snow
beckons, teases
as it pleases—
and it pleases
me to know
a patch of white
serene as snow.
SCRAM!
Go away—
go find yourself
some other prey.
Go away—
or I’ll get rough;
you’re not so tough.
Go away—
you’ve scavenged
on me long enough!
A DASH MIGHT DO
May I use
a comma, momma?
I hate to be behol’en,
even to a semicolon.
BUMFUZZLED
If there’s a school
for being old,
in it I’m a baby
looking for a nanny:
a mixed-up fool—
feeling like a girl,
acting like a lady,
looking like a granny.
I DIDN’T WANT ANY PART OF IT
You don’t want to know.
There on the page where I smashed it
are tick juices—dried, of course—
some body parts, and a strand of cat hair.
The smash took the shape of a flea.
(I said you didn’t want to know.)
Now you know.
How would you have handled it?
WHAT?
I find what I see.
What do I see?
What I’m looking for.
What am I looking for?
What I see—
familiar things and surprises.
What else is there?
END OF
HOSTILITIES
Surely
there will
come a day
when we can meet
as mates and play.
TRIBUTE
As from this life
I do depart,
I salute
my faithful heart.
INVENTORY
OF A HALF-HOUR
striped mushroom parasols
woodpecker riddling a power pole
(just keeping in practice?)
first Cherokee rose of spring
rock? dead squirrel? shoe
deformed Queen Anne’s lace
really another type of flower
bulldozer parked in woods
hidden meadow
shoe mate
RALLY TALLY
Just as the task force
was about to collapse
from the exhaustion of
negotiating difficult topics
and diverse opinions,
it narrowly averted
both delusion and demise:
it came to its consensus.
DEAL
I think of life as a poker game
(people, places and things—
especially ideas and insights—
these are the cards).
I’m always trading up.
[UNTITLED]
Even when it rains,
you worry over ducks and frogs,
not to mention lakes, seas, bogs.
[Twitter challenge issued by @MyWordWizard:
flesh out the opening “Even when it rains, you. . .”]
SKIES CLEARING
Kokopeli serenading a cactus;
two white elephants
with trunks entwined;
a big-lipped moose
riding a hippopotamus—
yippee-i-o!
Also—beyond the far hills,
mountains of snowcapped rubble.
And all I had to do was look up.
100524
YOUR PROBLEM
Just because you
contributed to it
doesn’t mean you
can’t ask for help.
JOURNAL
Reading back,
my life appears to be made up
of intertwined recurrent themes—
various animals appearing
or demising near roadways;
reactions to solar, lunar
and household events;
weather;
existential, psychospiritual
and literary musings;
discovery, frustration and fun.
Not bad.
* * *
100530
FAITH IN THE OUTCOME
Duck, the second of the pair,
was quacking mid-road
near the body of its mate.
It did not retreat when I approached
to remove the other’s body
or even when vehicles whisked by.
When I left, it followed me—
by then, we were both quacking.
The pavement was hot,
so I walked us toward a patch
of shade and grass.
There I sat, cross-legged,
while duck nibbled weeds,
and sampled me with its bill—
taking great interest in shoes
and rings—till it eventually
settled on the grass for a nap.
I considered our options.
No point in delaying.
I rose and quickly walked away,
trusting in nature and instinct
to make the proper resolution,
not daring to look back—
until, of course, I did.
Duck was quacking mid-road.
100529
EVERYTHING
Wow.
UNIVERSALL
Each. All.
Every. One.
Within, without
and under the sun—
every doing
is a being-done.
100528
PREP TALK
“Work. Work out.”
That’s my code.
Time to go; gotta carry my load.
Here’s where the rubber
meets the road.
Can’t stay here
like a big fat toad.
Gotta get my butt on the road.
Here’s where the blubber
meets the road!
UMBRELLA (for Lisa)
Today was only foggy—
but better safe than soggy!
BUSHED
Feeling unergetic today.
(That’s a real word;
I’m too tired to make one up.)
100527
TO BELIEVE, BELIEVE
The story
of the mustard seed
is somehow mustard-treed.
Would you believe—
a mustard tree?
Never seen one!
Can it be?
There is one thing
I believe:
it takes faith,
that mustard-seed creed.
BE-LOVE-ED
The rising of the land.
The sinking of the sea.
The epoch of each creature;
its brief ascendancy.
Gaia, what have I to offer
but rough humanity?
As long as you are loved,
it needn’t be by me.
SEEK AND BE FOUND
What is it that you seek?
...To end, begin.
You are made in likeness.
...Look within.
You are the truth you speak.
...You are the answer you seek.
NOT YOUR KEEPER
Pardon me,
dear sir, dear ma’am—
do you take me for a fool
fool enough to give a damn?
LITTLE BO PEEP
AND SHEPHERD BOY
“Your debt is due,
but I’ll steer clear
of lambs and rams.
May I take a ewe?”
“Hardly, ma’am—
that will not do!
Frankly, my dear,
I don’t give a dam.”
CANADIANS
Geese ahead, and flying low.
I have yet to see them, though;
fog is rising from the lake.
I stand alert at water’s edge,
as the fog turns more opaque,
to wait the coming of the wedge.
No sooner do the geese appear
than their wedge must split or veer.
With whoosh of wings,
they rise instead,
passing barely overhead,
startled at the sight of me
flapping arms in mimicry.
[ASIDE: I took liberties with the truth.
The geese saw me from a greater distance;
their wedge was already broken, and it passed
on either side of me, but barely overhead.
The wing-whoosh sound was impressive.
Of course, the most prominent aspect of the
fly-by was the sound of their honking; I hope
you supplied it.]
100526
AINA NANI
If age is just a state of mind,
one I can embrace,
let mine be Hawaii
or some equal state of grace.
CAREER
If nursery rhymes don’t warp you
toward life as a poet,
cartoons might, to your sorrow.
I trace my happy affliction to
Popeye’s cartoon segment,
"Hair today. Goon tomorrow."
HI SIGN
There’s nothing
regarding a poem
that you ought to do.
Each one's just a pointer
to the poet inside of you.
OBSESSION
First you pursue.
Then it does you.
FAME? ACCLAIM?
Thank you, no,
I’m not quite ready
for adventure
half so heady.
100525
POEM PLACE
A patch of white
serene as snow
beckons, teases
as it pleases—
and it pleases
me to know
a patch of white
serene as snow.
SCRAM!
Go away—
go find yourself
some other prey.
Go away—
or I’ll get rough;
you’re not so tough.
Go away—
you’ve scavenged
on me long enough!
A DASH MIGHT DO
May I use
a comma, momma?
I hate to be behol’en,
even to a semicolon.
BUMFUZZLED
If there’s a school
for being old,
in it I’m a baby
looking for a nanny:
a mixed-up fool—
feeling like a girl,
acting like a lady,
looking like a granny.
I DIDN’T WANT ANY PART OF IT
You don’t want to know.
There on the page where I smashed it
are tick juices—dried, of course—
some body parts, and a strand of cat hair.
The smash took the shape of a flea.
(I said you didn’t want to know.)
Now you know.
How would you have handled it?
WHAT?
I find what I see.
What do I see?
What I’m looking for.
What am I looking for?
What I see—
familiar things and surprises.
What else is there?
END OF
HOSTILITIES
Surely
there will
come a day
when we can meet
as mates and play.
TRIBUTE
As from this life
I do depart,
I salute
my faithful heart.
INVENTORY
OF A HALF-HOUR
striped mushroom parasols
woodpecker riddling a power pole
(just keeping in practice?)
first Cherokee rose of spring
rock? dead squirrel? shoe
deformed Queen Anne’s lace
really another type of flower
bulldozer parked in woods
hidden meadow
shoe mate
RALLY TALLY
Just as the task force
was about to collapse
from the exhaustion of
negotiating difficult topics
and diverse opinions,
it narrowly averted
both delusion and demise:
it came to its consensus.
DEAL
I think of life as a poker game
(people, places and things—
especially ideas and insights—
these are the cards).
I’m always trading up.
[UNTITLED]
Even when it rains,
you worry over ducks and frogs,
not to mention lakes, seas, bogs.
[Twitter challenge issued by @MyWordWizard:
flesh out the opening “Even when it rains, you. . .”]
SKIES CLEARING
Kokopeli serenading a cactus;
two white elephants
with trunks entwined;
a big-lipped moose
riding a hippopotamus—
yippee-i-o!
Also—beyond the far hills,
mountains of snowcapped rubble.
And all I had to do was look up.
100524
YOUR PROBLEM
Just because you
contributed to it
doesn’t mean you
can’t ask for help.
JOURNAL
Reading back,
my life appears to be made up
of intertwined recurrent themes—
various animals appearing
or demising near roadways;
reactions to solar, lunar
and household events;
weather;
existential, psychospiritual
and literary musings;
discovery, frustration and fun.
Not bad.
* * *
Monday, May 3, 2010
Cheese and Crackers
* * *
100503
RETICENT
The neighbor’s garden
is at my disposal.
I feel richer in what I don’t take
than in what I do.
Is there a cure for this?
LITTLE HOLES
When the bread has little holes
and hasn’t been soaked overnight,
I dip each slice quickly and put it
in the pan. Then I spoon-feed the
excess egg mixture slowly and gently
over the pores of its upper surface.
By the time I’m done spooning, it’s
ready to be flipped anyway. Some-
times fleshing out a poem is like that:
lingering attentively, filling in gaps.
100502
NATURE WALK NATURE
I do the thing
to be alone;
to think, or not;
and, as I roam,
to breathe fresh air—
breathe freely too.
What will change,
if I’m with you?
[ASIDE: The syntax is wrong,
but I don't like "What would change"
or "when I'm with."]
100501
ENABLER
When your cat pees
on your bed or rug,
you clean things up.
What else can you do?
Then your cat pees
(uncontrite and smug)
in that same place
the moment that you’re through.
100430
[CHALLENGE POEMS]
Take a newspaper article and black out words
to leave a coherent poem of the remaining words
in their original sequence. I tried this twice.
GRANDMOTHERS
The author said,
"I fell wildly in love with this child."
Completely unprepared for this new role,
she made plans to write a memoir
of not just her own experience
but those of other writers;
all the hidden pleasures and perils
of being a grandmother.
She wanted it to be true,
convinced that all baby boomers
are traveling in uncharted waters
as grandparents.
If there's anything she's learned,
it's this: "You need to be supportive
and keep your mouth shut."
NEW ROLE
Author speaks Sunday
about her reaction
to the birth of her first granddaughter.
"Completely unprepared,
heartbroken, furious, devastated."
Asked to write an essay
about being a grandparent,
she didn't change names or anything.
"It provoked feelings in me,
not all of them charitable.
There's something scary
about being a grandparent."
Copies will be available for purchase
at the Sunday event.
100429
P.M. POEM
Are you that overwhelmed?
Has it lost its allure?
(A near-midnight start
for this pome du jour.)
100428
HEALTH-FOOD SLACKERS
Cheese and crackers,
cheese and crackers,
cheese and cheese,
and cheese and crackers.
Fruits and veggies have no backers
in this house of cheese and crackers;
have no home among these slackers.
100427
EVERYDAY POET
even I
of privileged
eye
often fail
to see:
the ease
the deep
the friendly
of the common
100426
TEXAS SPICE
Poorly-painted red words
on poorly-painted white boards
advertise a roadside stand:
"jams" "jellies" "peaches" "tomatoes"
The largest sign recommends:
"RELISH"
"SALSA"
Thanks to a stint in Texas, I do.
[ASIDE: On this one, Fay Jean Royce commented:
"An Arkie lass with Texas sass!"]
100425
THINGS
In your vicinity,
at your approach,
things shift.
If alert,
you may notice
a flutter of wings,
a scurrying,
a sudden splash.
Further ahead,
the more sensitive,
shy, and subtle
have already taken
their leave, leaving only
a toe-track,
a scent,
a broken twig.
Further yet,
other things—possibly—
disappear so quickly
and thoroughly
we don’t even suspect
they exist.
100424
NO ACCOUNT
What have I really done
for this world;
what have I really done?
Whom have I saved or salved
in this world;
whom, when, why—
and what from?
100423
GOING TO POT-BELLY
“Do you think your skin
holds your innards in?”
“Fat chance it does—
because my face has turned to scowls and jowls;
because each thigh’s the size my waist once was;
because my upper arms (once like a girl’s)
now flap just like a flying squirrel’s.
Do I think my skin
holds my innards in?
Not one bit, because—
I have witnessed tears and boobies drop.
Plus, my belly slops over undie tops.”
100422
AMEN TO THAT
As I take this food, I choose:
health, delight, and gratitude.
100421
ATTENDANCE
Three;
three to learn.
One to teach.
One to observe;
one to learn
to teach.
* * *
100503
RETICENT
The neighbor’s garden
is at my disposal.
I feel richer in what I don’t take
than in what I do.
Is there a cure for this?
LITTLE HOLES
When the bread has little holes
and hasn’t been soaked overnight,
I dip each slice quickly and put it
in the pan. Then I spoon-feed the
excess egg mixture slowly and gently
over the pores of its upper surface.
By the time I’m done spooning, it’s
ready to be flipped anyway. Some-
times fleshing out a poem is like that:
lingering attentively, filling in gaps.
100502
NATURE WALK NATURE
I do the thing
to be alone;
to think, or not;
and, as I roam,
to breathe fresh air—
breathe freely too.
What will change,
if I’m with you?
[ASIDE: The syntax is wrong,
but I don't like "What would change"
or "when I'm with."]
100501
ENABLER
When your cat pees
on your bed or rug,
you clean things up.
What else can you do?
Then your cat pees
(uncontrite and smug)
in that same place
the moment that you’re through.
100430
[CHALLENGE POEMS]
Take a newspaper article and black out words
to leave a coherent poem of the remaining words
in their original sequence. I tried this twice.
GRANDMOTHERS
The author said,
"I fell wildly in love with this child."
Completely unprepared for this new role,
she made plans to write a memoir
of not just her own experience
but those of other writers;
all the hidden pleasures and perils
of being a grandmother.
She wanted it to be true,
convinced that all baby boomers
are traveling in uncharted waters
as grandparents.
If there's anything she's learned,
it's this: "You need to be supportive
and keep your mouth shut."
NEW ROLE
Author speaks Sunday
about her reaction
to the birth of her first granddaughter.
"Completely unprepared,
heartbroken, furious, devastated."
Asked to write an essay
about being a grandparent,
she didn't change names or anything.
"It provoked feelings in me,
not all of them charitable.
There's something scary
about being a grandparent."
Copies will be available for purchase
at the Sunday event.
100429
P.M. POEM
Are you that overwhelmed?
Has it lost its allure?
(A near-midnight start
for this pome du jour.)
100428
HEALTH-FOOD SLACKERS
Cheese and crackers,
cheese and crackers,
cheese and cheese,
and cheese and crackers.
Fruits and veggies have no backers
in this house of cheese and crackers;
have no home among these slackers.
100427
EVERYDAY POET
even I
of privileged
eye
often fail
to see:
the ease
the deep
the friendly
of the common
100426
TEXAS SPICE
Poorly-painted red words
on poorly-painted white boards
advertise a roadside stand:
"jams" "jellies" "peaches" "tomatoes"
The largest sign recommends:
"RELISH"
"SALSA"
Thanks to a stint in Texas, I do.
[ASIDE: On this one, Fay Jean Royce commented:
"An Arkie lass with Texas sass!"]
100425
THINGS
In your vicinity,
at your approach,
things shift.
If alert,
you may notice
a flutter of wings,
a scurrying,
a sudden splash.
Further ahead,
the more sensitive,
shy, and subtle
have already taken
their leave, leaving only
a toe-track,
a scent,
a broken twig.
Further yet,
other things—possibly—
disappear so quickly
and thoroughly
we don’t even suspect
they exist.
100424
NO ACCOUNT
What have I really done
for this world;
what have I really done?
Whom have I saved or salved
in this world;
whom, when, why—
and what from?
100423
GOING TO POT-BELLY
“Do you think your skin
holds your innards in?”
“Fat chance it does—
because my face has turned to scowls and jowls;
because each thigh’s the size my waist once was;
because my upper arms (once like a girl’s)
now flap just like a flying squirrel’s.
Do I think my skin
holds my innards in?
Not one bit, because—
I have witnessed tears and boobies drop.
Plus, my belly slops over undie tops.”
100422
AMEN TO THAT
As I take this food, I choose:
health, delight, and gratitude.
100421
ATTENDANCE
Three;
three to learn.
One to teach.
One to observe;
one to learn
to teach.
* * *
Monday, February 1, 2010
Animals, Weather, Time
* * *
100131
ATTUNED
I love it when he whistles and laughs
and jokes with the cats;
their ears swivel to tune him in;
they climb onto his lap if it’s available;
they gently paw his face, stroke his cheek,
then settle in to ride the warm rhythms
of his chest. "More," they say. "More!"
100130
SNOW DAY
Deer braved the yard today,
where they cautiously fed.
Cats braved the snow for birds.
Birds braved the cats for bread.
100129
WEATHER
WISHERS
What?
You didn’t expect
more snow to fall?
Please.
It’s January,
after all!
100128
BLAST!
"Brace yourselves,"
weathercasters scold,
rhapsodizing over sleet and ice.
Hmmph. That isn't nice; it's cold!
100127
TIME PIECE
"Time flies," Eagle cries.
"Time flies," Frog sighs,
"snatchin’ you up like some bug
that its flickin’ tongue has tazed.
Oh. Time flays," croaks Frog, amazed.
"Time flays," Horse neighs.
"Time flows," Raven crows.
"Time flows," Bear knows,
"driftin’ us along with gentle dreams
of polar ice an’ siftin’ snow.
Ah. Time floes," sighs Bear, mid-doze.
"Time floes," Whale blows.
"Time flees," buzz Bees.
"Time flees," Dog breathes,
"bitin’ our hides to set us movin’,
then lightin’ out; that irritatin’ tease!
Ooh. Time fleas," Dog moans, aggrieved.
"Time fleas," Cat agrees.
[ASIDE: I wanted to leave out quotation marks because they
were so cumbersome and distracting, but that didn't work.]
100126
RELAXED FIT
“When you retire,” his buddies asked,
looking at him a bit askance,
“who, at your house, will wear the pants?”
“Myself,” he winked, with a cheerful glance.
“Of course, I’ll be wearing putter pants.”
100125
TWENTY-TWENTY
Best gift so far,
this twenty-ten—
contact lenses.
I see again!
100124
TOO LATE
I missed a meeting
I meant to attend;
there’s no way to regroup,
recoup, or amend.
100123
BUZZARDS
“Unclean!” they’re seen—
“Untouchable!
Gnarly-headed grotesques. Fearsome
Underlings. Awful offal-eaters.
Horrid things on wings!”
Of this, buzzards are oblivious—
as they are of praise from students
of their ways, who say, “It’s official.
Buzzards are good to us. Beneficial.”
They recycle and renew.
Like morticians, beauticians, mothers,
menials, and multitudes of others
(maintenance workers, trash collectors,
hazardous waste operators, plumbers,
and sanitation crews, to name a few)—
discretely and with daily diligence,
they efface life’s ugliness.
They lift in air like dreams.
For those with eyes to see—
such elegance, such grace!
100122
LOOKOUT
At my north-sky facing view,
two trapezoidal windows
show through to a vast expanse
of icy blue; slightly smudged
with gray and white. But—
not a single buzzard in sight.
100121
MEAT OR POISON
One man’s crumpet
is another man’s strumpet.
One woman’s jackpot
is another one’s crackpot.
[ASIDE: Just playing with words, which,
like old stereotypes and clichés, are also
one person’s meat and another’s poison.]
100120
WINTER THUNDER
Startling!
Like a midnight pounding at your door
in the secret-code cadence of a comrade.
SELF-EMANCIPATION
First you have to make it okay
with yourself to think about
what you might possibly want.
Then you have to decide that,
yes, it’s okay to actually want.
Next you allow yourself to
full-heartedly accept
wanted and waited-for things.
After that, permission to pursue
is a natural progression.
In fact, you stand self-revealed
as a natural progression.
100119
CHARM SCHOOLED
It’s hard enough to
charm life into beneficence
when you’re an ingénue;
much less, a nongénue.
ASPIRANT
As if either is a place,
somewhere between seven and seventy,
I got used to living. I expected to expect
every day another day, and every day
three square meals, slow or quick,
and all my blessings double-dipped.
Little plain-old mortal me
aspired to immortality: unending life,
and not just that—ease, abundance, health,
pleasing occupation, and an inside track
to bliss. It hasn’t happened—yet
I’m caught by the idea. First, I’ve heard,
you go through death and back
near-endless times. Or not.
* * *
100131
ATTUNED
I love it when he whistles and laughs
and jokes with the cats;
their ears swivel to tune him in;
they climb onto his lap if it’s available;
they gently paw his face, stroke his cheek,
then settle in to ride the warm rhythms
of his chest. "More," they say. "More!"
100130
SNOW DAY
Deer braved the yard today,
where they cautiously fed.
Cats braved the snow for birds.
Birds braved the cats for bread.
100129
WEATHER
WISHERS
What?
You didn’t expect
more snow to fall?
Please.
It’s January,
after all!
100128
BLAST!
"Brace yourselves,"
weathercasters scold,
rhapsodizing over sleet and ice.
Hmmph. That isn't nice; it's cold!
100127
TIME PIECE
"Time flies," Eagle cries.
"Time flies," Frog sighs,
"snatchin’ you up like some bug
that its flickin’ tongue has tazed.
Oh. Time flays," croaks Frog, amazed.
"Time flays," Horse neighs.
"Time flows," Raven crows.
"Time flows," Bear knows,
"driftin’ us along with gentle dreams
of polar ice an’ siftin’ snow.
Ah. Time floes," sighs Bear, mid-doze.
"Time floes," Whale blows.
"Time flees," buzz Bees.
"Time flees," Dog breathes,
"bitin’ our hides to set us movin’,
then lightin’ out; that irritatin’ tease!
Ooh. Time fleas," Dog moans, aggrieved.
"Time fleas," Cat agrees.
[ASIDE: I wanted to leave out quotation marks because they
were so cumbersome and distracting, but that didn't work.]
100126
RELAXED FIT
“When you retire,” his buddies asked,
looking at him a bit askance,
“who, at your house, will wear the pants?”
“Myself,” he winked, with a cheerful glance.
“Of course, I’ll be wearing putter pants.”
100125
TWENTY-TWENTY
Best gift so far,
this twenty-ten—
contact lenses.
I see again!
100124
TOO LATE
I missed a meeting
I meant to attend;
there’s no way to regroup,
recoup, or amend.
100123
BUZZARDS
“Unclean!” they’re seen—
“Untouchable!
Gnarly-headed grotesques. Fearsome
Underlings. Awful offal-eaters.
Horrid things on wings!”
Of this, buzzards are oblivious—
as they are of praise from students
of their ways, who say, “It’s official.
Buzzards are good to us. Beneficial.”
They recycle and renew.
Like morticians, beauticians, mothers,
menials, and multitudes of others
(maintenance workers, trash collectors,
hazardous waste operators, plumbers,
and sanitation crews, to name a few)—
discretely and with daily diligence,
they efface life’s ugliness.
They lift in air like dreams.
For those with eyes to see—
such elegance, such grace!
100122
LOOKOUT
At my north-sky facing view,
two trapezoidal windows
show through to a vast expanse
of icy blue; slightly smudged
with gray and white. But—
not a single buzzard in sight.
100121
MEAT OR POISON
One man’s crumpet
is another man’s strumpet.
One woman’s jackpot
is another one’s crackpot.
[ASIDE: Just playing with words, which,
like old stereotypes and clichés, are also
one person’s meat and another’s poison.]
100120
WINTER THUNDER
Startling!
Like a midnight pounding at your door
in the secret-code cadence of a comrade.
SELF-EMANCIPATION
First you have to make it okay
with yourself to think about
what you might possibly want.
Then you have to decide that,
yes, it’s okay to actually want.
Next you allow yourself to
full-heartedly accept
wanted and waited-for things.
After that, permission to pursue
is a natural progression.
In fact, you stand self-revealed
as a natural progression.
100119
CHARM SCHOOLED
It’s hard enough to
charm life into beneficence
when you’re an ingénue;
much less, a nongénue.
ASPIRANT
As if either is a place,
somewhere between seven and seventy,
I got used to living. I expected to expect
every day another day, and every day
three square meals, slow or quick,
and all my blessings double-dipped.
Little plain-old mortal me
aspired to immortality: unending life,
and not just that—ease, abundance, health,
pleasing occupation, and an inside track
to bliss. It hasn’t happened—yet
I’m caught by the idea. First, I’ve heard,
you go through death and back
near-endless times. Or not.
* * *
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Writer at Christmas
* * *
091225
DENTAL FLAWS
Hot and cold,
sweets (like cake)—
these things cause
my tooth to ache.
Though I beg
the pain to slake,
eyes and jaws
and cheeks partake.
091224
VERSE-ATILE
What shall we make a poem of—
a feather or a father?
A roux or kangaroo?
What shall we make a poem of?
Anything will do.
091223
DECEMBER 23
We're two days shy of Christmas,
said Adam, and—I believe—
that means tonight is Christmas
eve eve, Eve.
091222
WRITING
ASSIGNMENT
Others build
or grow
or fix.
Others mother.
I do this.
* * *
091225
DENTAL FLAWS
Hot and cold,
sweets (like cake)—
these things cause
my tooth to ache.
Though I beg
the pain to slake,
eyes and jaws
and cheeks partake.
091224
VERSE-ATILE
What shall we make a poem of—
a feather or a father?
A roux or kangaroo?
What shall we make a poem of?
Anything will do.
091223
DECEMBER 23
We're two days shy of Christmas,
said Adam, and—I believe—
that means tonight is Christmas
eve eve, Eve.
091222
WRITING
ASSIGNMENT
Others build
or grow
or fix.
Others mother.
I do this.
* * *
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thanksgiving and Other Times
* * *
091127
NONE FOR ME, THANKS
Your banquet looks yummy;
so luscious and arty—
but my tummy’s in turmoil
from yesterday’s party.
091126
TODAY’S PRAISE
On this day, I’m thankful for:
Loving kin. A bed. A cup.
Sleeping till the sun comes up.
Ease of breath. Strength of limb.
Words and thoughts—like seraphim,
blunderbuss, marmalade and octopus.
On this day, I’m grateful for:
Time to see, to think, to write
and distill this world’s delight.
SO MANY FACETS!
Lauren and Lindsey:
sobriety, whimsey.
Lindsey and Lauren:
familiar, fresh, foreign.
[ASIDE: My friend's granddaughters;
wonderful girls.]
091125
BITTER, SALTY,
SOUR, SWEET
More pronounced
with passing years:
these four flavors
of our tears.
091124
WILD OATS, THEN OATMEAL
Dear underdressed and oversexed—
You're so cute!
Enjoy it while you got it.
Whether you were given it, earned it,
learned it, bought or thought it—
enjoy it while you got it.
Then, overdressed and undersexed,
enjoy what you get next.
091123
INVERSIONS
Sunny. Cloudy.
Sunny. Cloudy.
I'm managing okay,
but how is the weather?
091122
SOUL GOAL
To feel it, be it, flow it—
to love and be loved
and know it.
091121
GET OFF THE BUS
It isn’t business anymore;
everything’s a rush
of hurried-this, shortened-that,
acronyms, and such.
It isn’t business anymore.
Gee whiz, it’s biz –
it isn’t even bus!
091120
THANKS
It's hard-times times—
playing hide-and-seek
in the dark with fate—
but
I'm grateful to be grateful
for all that doesn't grate.
091119
WEEK DAZE
MON. No fun.
TUE. No clue.
WED. Half-dead.
THUR. Wake. Stir.
FRI. Fly high.
SAT. Fall flat.
SUN. So done.
091118
WHAT OUR COWORKERS SAID
“You’re the first people
that it happened to
that we’re really sad
it happened to.”
YESTERDAZE
Stories about feelings;
that is the past—
stories about feelings
about things that don't last.
COM-YOU-NICATION
"Dibs after you!"
It's smart,
even in a two-person household
to stake your claim.
MY BEST WORK
Besides background and references,
the company's director of communications
job application required six examples
of personally-written documents
as evidence of expertise.
For the sixth sample,
the kamikaze in me submitted a poem.
091117
WHAT, AGAIN?
Life keeps revealing to me
how absent-minded I am
through the many things
I forget to do
again and again and again.
091116
DISCERNMENT
Then, times were good;
prosperity came. We rode its crest.
Oh, how we were blessed!
Now, times are bad,
but gratitude is unrepressed.
Oh, how we are blessed!
091115
BIKINI GIRL
You think we’re the kind
who disapproves—
but we have news!
Hon, we too
had our time in the sun.
* * *
[ASIDE: Cleaned out old papers the other day
and found some poem snippets which became the basis
for some of the poems in this batch.]
* * *
091127
NONE FOR ME, THANKS
Your banquet looks yummy;
so luscious and arty—
but my tummy’s in turmoil
from yesterday’s party.
091126
TODAY’S PRAISE
On this day, I’m thankful for:
Loving kin. A bed. A cup.
Sleeping till the sun comes up.
Ease of breath. Strength of limb.
Words and thoughts—like seraphim,
blunderbuss, marmalade and octopus.
On this day, I’m grateful for:
Time to see, to think, to write
and distill this world’s delight.
SO MANY FACETS!
Lauren and Lindsey:
sobriety, whimsey.
Lindsey and Lauren:
familiar, fresh, foreign.
[ASIDE: My friend's granddaughters;
wonderful girls.]
091125
BITTER, SALTY,
SOUR, SWEET
More pronounced
with passing years:
these four flavors
of our tears.
091124
WILD OATS, THEN OATMEAL
Dear underdressed and oversexed—
You're so cute!
Enjoy it while you got it.
Whether you were given it, earned it,
learned it, bought or thought it—
enjoy it while you got it.
Then, overdressed and undersexed,
enjoy what you get next.
091123
INVERSIONS
Sunny. Cloudy.
Sunny. Cloudy.
I'm managing okay,
but how is the weather?
091122
SOUL GOAL
To feel it, be it, flow it—
to love and be loved
and know it.
091121
GET OFF THE BUS
It isn’t business anymore;
everything’s a rush
of hurried-this, shortened-that,
acronyms, and such.
It isn’t business anymore.
Gee whiz, it’s biz –
it isn’t even bus!
091120
THANKS
It's hard-times times—
playing hide-and-seek
in the dark with fate—
but
I'm grateful to be grateful
for all that doesn't grate.
091119
WEEK DAZE
MON. No fun.
TUE. No clue.
WED. Half-dead.
THUR. Wake. Stir.
FRI. Fly high.
SAT. Fall flat.
SUN. So done.
091118
WHAT OUR COWORKERS SAID
“You’re the first people
that it happened to
that we’re really sad
it happened to.”
YESTERDAZE
Stories about feelings;
that is the past—
stories about feelings
about things that don't last.
COM-YOU-NICATION
"Dibs after you!"
It's smart,
even in a two-person household
to stake your claim.
MY BEST WORK
Besides background and references,
the company's director of communications
job application required six examples
of personally-written documents
as evidence of expertise.
For the sixth sample,
the kamikaze in me submitted a poem.
091117
WHAT, AGAIN?
Life keeps revealing to me
how absent-minded I am
through the many things
I forget to do
again and again and again.
091116
DISCERNMENT
Then, times were good;
prosperity came. We rode its crest.
Oh, how we were blessed!
Now, times are bad,
but gratitude is unrepressed.
Oh, how we are blessed!
091115
BIKINI GIRL
You think we’re the kind
who disapproves—
but we have news!
Hon, we too
had our time in the sun.
* * *
[ASIDE: Cleaned out old papers the other day
and found some poem snippets which became the basis
for some of the poems in this batch.]
* * *
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