Challenging Times

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110411

EASTER
CELEBRANTS

Dogwoods
crowd the banks
of wilderness ravines,
offering
white hosannas
to alleluias
of green.

[ASIDE: Still dithering over offering/proffering
and alleluias/hallelujahs.]


MAYBE, MAYBE NOT

Strictly, there are no gulleys on our hilltop,
but my flowerpots and water-fountain barrels
indicated a 3- or 4-inch gulleywasher overnight.

A beautiful morning ensued,
and errands beckoned.

At the library park, ducks and geese
ventured from the pond to explore puddles
and other new water features.

After heavy rains,
I like to escort stranded worms across sidewalks;
it’s a habit I developed long ago.
Sure enough, as I walked the grounds,
I discovered worms in distress.
Later I encountered a large caterpillar—
luna moth size—but apparently expired.
Further on, there was a fresher-looking one,
so I bent to inspect.

As my hand reached toward it,
my mind countermanded,
“Maybe this has something to do with
those wandering geese.”


STUFF AND NONSENSE

Our minds store up
the stuff we need
until the time we need it;
and what a waste
that seems to be—
so seldom do we heed it.


HELP!

Once
this was heady.
But—
enough already!


110410

TRENDING TOPICS

The negatives I focus on
multiply like evil spawn.

When I abhor, I get more.
What I oppose, grows.
Why in heaven’s name
this should be so,
heaven only knows.

Hell responds to “never”
like coyotes to a hen,
so “never” is the surest way
to bring it back again.

But saying “Never again!”
to “Never again!”
is a self-defeating chore—
according to the way of things,
that just escalates it more.

Positive is the only cure
for this negative spiral trend—
claiming what I truly want,
now and ever… “Ever again!”

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Never again! ]


OH NO?

"Never again
will I display my wares
(these makings of my heart)
to shuns and stares
and slight-of-words
disparaging my art."

My art is in its infancy,
born of separate knowing;
the irritations I avoid,
it grasps to speed our growing.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Never again! ]


WHO RULES? WHO KNOWS?

here’s a recently clean
sheet of paper
with twenty-three ruled lines
(who is their ruler?)
I’m writing on the seventh line now,
having left room at the top
for a title

now I’m halfway down the page—
and what have I said
of significance?

this slow descent
is like the passage of my life
and just as overcast
by that pesky question:
what have I said—or done—
of significance?

(wouldn’t I be
the last to know?)


110409

SLIPPING

My errors
repeat in patterns—
transitions,
repetitions,
slips of mind or pen—
that I notice and forget…
till I notice them again.


MIDNIGHT
DEADLINE

At the proverbial,
if not literal,
eleventh hour—
rescue arrived:
my muse's
higher power.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Time.]


EARLY SUBMISSION
TO A LATE DEADLINE

Kinda loses the fun
when your poem’s
done done.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Time.]


PROGRESS

Taxes submitted: check.
Scrapbook project handed off: check.
Club presidency resigned: check.
Unemployment benefits terminated: check.
Poem written: check.
I’m free!


ENDEAVOR

I keep seeking
“wherever”
to find my kin,
to match the
“whatever”
I find within.


BON TEMPS

There’s plenty
of what I want
in the world
an’ I’m gonna have me some.

In fact, I see,
I have it now—
all capped off with fun.


110408

MUSIC TO OUR FEARS (for Faye Jean)

She's a drama-queen comedian—
the best of these there's ever been;
a melodrama melodian!

She can turn a groan into applause
and brighten gray to yellow.
She's part magician too, because
she makes melo mellow.


110408

GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS

Newly divorced and newly-fallen financially,
I moved to a shabbier part of the city.

Someone had preceded me.

“Didn’t you used to be the florist at the
west-side branch of this supermarket?”
“Yes.” She had been transferred down.

“Oh,” I breathed,
wondering at her own fallen state.
“How is it here? I don’t suppose
many people buy flowers.”

She laughed. “I had that same expectation
at first. Life is hard in this neighborhood,
so everybody looks out for everybody else;
they have to. But the less they have,
the more they appreciate what’s left.”

“They appreciate beauty,” she said,
nodding toward the floral displays.
“They will scrimp somewhere else
to buy each other flowers.
Here, each day is a celebration.”

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Celebration.]


110407

WHAT “IF”?

One tiny nudge
can edit history;
every poet
knows this mystery.

Here’s a thought—

What if Kipling
had (or had not!)
been tippling?

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: What if?]


110406

DON’T FLATTER YOURSELF

You mighta heard the talk around town
about how you managed to overcome
your circumstances an’ become
a leading citizen hereabouts…
pillar of the community an’ all that.

You mighta heard people say
you’re a friend to man an’ beast,
a credit to your sex, an’ generally
outstandin’ in every way.

Well, I know you better’n them folks.
I seen you at your best an’ worst.
I know the truth an’ I aim tell it.
So don’t flatter yourself, friend… let me!

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Don’t…]


110405

IMPATIENT THERAPY

Hurry, Doc!

Don’t be slow.
I need to know
about this diet
while I try it—

Was fiber ample
in my sample?
What’s the poop?
Give me the scoop.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Goofy and/or serious.]


110404

THE LEGEND

Apple blossoms appeared yesterday—
at least to my notice.
Ever since,
I have been trying to envision
John Chapman
and his famous apple seeds.

How did he travel; how transport;
where did he cache; where was his stash?
What was his source of supply?

I am as much intrigued
by the logic as the logistics.
So—why?

The childhood story was apples.
The adulthood one is cider.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: A person.]


110403

ARE POEMS STILL ALLOWED TO RHYME?

Water is water and that’s very nice,
but is it okay for it to be ice?
If that is the case, please share a tip;
may icicles, currently, melt or drip?

What is the rule; must water be cool
and, if so, how much—or is it
required to be warm to the touch?

Water appears to be rather fickle…
What is decreed about water as steam?
May it spray, foam, or trickle
while going downstream?

What are the rules about vapor and smog?
What are the edicts on cloudbanks and fog?
May seawater taste, these days, like brine?
Again—are poems allowed to rhyme?


NIGHT SHIFT

I leave my body nightly
as a bookmark, then check out.

On my return, I always find it
moved to a further page.

This is a mystery;
read into it what you will.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: My own absence.]


110402

EXPECTANT, SEE

Spring can be dull,
gloomy, cold—people too,
young or old,
who close their eyes
to gloomy, cold April skies
that suddenly switch blue.


SATURDAY

we slept in
got up
ate
slept again

what more
can a body ask?


POSTCARD

It’s overcast, gray,
and foggy today…
nothing, to me, is clear.

That’s all there seems
to be to say;
that’s the view from here.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: Postcard.]


110401

WHAT GOT ME HERE

“What?” arrived around ’03
when a key life mission appeared for me,
to which I’ve been (for the most part) true.

“What?” Oprah asked.
And I instantly knew.

“What one thing, if left undone, would you
most regret when your life was run?”

“Poetry!” then “What?” I said,
wondering how such a notion got in my head
and overtook my heart.

My poem-a-day mission, given its start,
grew clearer by the year.
Now I’ve arrived, an everyday poet—

“What?” is the what
what got me here.

[ASIDE: Submitted to Poem-A-Day challenge,
theme: What got me here.
This challenge was recommended by Writer’s Digest
and appears on Robert Lee Brewer’s blog.]


110331

MARCH SIMILES

He's like a scar:
clings to the past.... a real pain in the ass

He's like abs:
just like glutes & pecs, aims for health & sex

She's like bell-bottoms:
a wardrobe trial; goes in and out of style

He's like a finger nail:
count on it; under pressure, he will split

She's like a musket:
once she shot a cavalier, then shed a musket tear

He's like a three-ring binder:
difficult to categorize, since so ready to revise

He's like an 800 number:
more, even, than the mall... open when you call

She's like the iPhone:
admired, desired; by some, acquired

He's like a unicycle:
kind of a flubber where the road meets the rubber

He's like the alphabet:
he means well (for a spell)

He's like a kite:
stunt flier with one desire: higher! higher!

She's like a chandelier:
helps light make a prism break

She's like an exclamation point:
emotion detector... and projector

He's like a cherry picker:
How he'd boast! Now he's toast.

She's like a dissertation:
demonstrated mastery achieved through slavery

[ASIDE: Posted during the month to www.oneupme.com,
an online game. Only very short responses to each prompt are allowed.]


110330

THAT NAGGING QUESTION

How can I enjoy my villa by the sea;
my downy bed; my bread, fruit, tea…
when you and yours have not,
because of mine and me?


110329

BEDTIME STARRY

Good night, beloveds...
night-night, sleep tight.
If I were your mother,
I'd hug you tight.


110328

LET'S BE FRIENDS

See-saw,
swing,
merry-go round.

Here I am.
Come find me.

There you are.
Be found.


PROGRESS
OVER PERFECTION

One percent more,
one percent better;
that's how to soar—
as a one-percenter.


110327

CACHE AND RELEASE

I want to go to Machu Picchu;
so I’ve said for forty years.
It’s one of those raisin-dreams;
deferred.

My dad postponed his own
such dream—Alaska—many years.
I’ve had and used his souvenir gift
a further many years
and have looked at it many times;
tonight, at last, I saw the gift of it.

It’s a small gold-toned bookmark;
paper-clip type, laser-cut.
The topmost part, a filigree design
above the cut-work word “ALASKA,”
forms circular border framing a scene.
The central motif, with evergreens
at either side, is not a mountain, grizzly,
salmon, elk, or totem pole,
but a small log cabin on stilts
with ladder access: a cache.

It is a place where dreams are stored
and kept viable; Dad’s gift affirms it.


110326

THE PRINCESS AND THE PEE

“Clin shits,” my husband announces
after washing yet another load of bedclothes.
Thankfully, it hasn’t come to that; instead,
it’s just one cat with a bladder problem.
Or else, like us, she’s simply confused.




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Moonshine

* * *


110325

THIS I KNOW FOR SURE (for Oprah)

A day without poetry
is like a night without moonshine.

[ASIDE: O Magazine seeks short poems on Twitter.]


110324

IT’S ALL IN THE
EXECUTION

Bad poem.
Bad, bad poem.
Take it out
and shoot it.

String it up
and shoot it down;
the only way
to mute it.


110323

IMAGINE (for Cat)

Imagine all problems
as subject to mind—
imagine imagination
making humankind kind.

[ASIDE: I'd say, for John Lennon too.]


110322

TROUBLESOME TRENDS

Neighbor pups encroach our cats.
That isn’t all that’s rough—
my to-do’s outswamp my done’s;
I can’t bail fast enough.


110321

THIS SCEPTERED WHILE

Winter’s dead.
Long live the king.

Spring! Spring!
Spring! Spring!

(Please excuse;
I must enthuse.)


110320

THE PAUSE THAT REFRESHES

Weekends! Weekends!
Time for fun and friends.

At end of week
when we’re weak from work,
they’re when that work-weak ends.


110319

MUTUAL
MIS-JUDGMENT

All that fighting
and hurt feelings—
what was that about?

No, don’t remind me—
this is truth and peace;
that was doubt.


110318

ANATOMY ANOMALY

What a piece of work is man,
whose body is an art.

Today I thanked my precious hands;
“Darlin’s, —bless your heart.”


110317

THE JIG IS UP

For Paddy’s day, I’d do a jig,
but don’t know how to jig-gle;
in fact, I cannot even do
a decent sort of wiggle.

On dancing lessons, I missed out.
At the tango, I’m not hot.
I never, ever twist and shout.
Fan-dance? Please!
And can-can, I cannot.


110316

REVISION

watercolor lessons
give me
watercolor eyes

now I see
watercolor flowers
watercolor skies


110315

MODERN TURMOIL

The Ides of March—irrelevant?
They scarcely drew a mention.
Japan and the Middle East
commanded our attention.


110314

PI DAY TRIBUTE (for Diane)

While you and I stand idly by
without a clue and wonder why,
she bakes circles around us—
she knows her way around a pie.

[ASIDE: She's a numbers person; the kind who likes
bookkeeping and tax preparations.]


110313

RECOUPERATION

wedding ring
car keys
other things like these

feared lost
assumed lost
find their way to me


110312

THERE’S ALWAYS A CATCH

A paradox—or plot, or ruse!

Freedom seekers, you’re forced to choose
among more expressions than you can use—
at least at once.

You win; you lose.


110311

LIONS’ CARD IDEA

Some birthdays are already done.
We hope today’s your greatest one…
and that the best are still to come.


110310

ANOTHER FINE MESS

“Oh, no—not again!
How many times have I asked you
not to do this—and you went ahead
and did it again. I am so frustrated,
I just can’t to talk to you right now.
No, I can't say another word!
Hey, are you listening to me?”


110309

LENTEN OBSERVANCE (for Joyce)

The "worker" that we trusted
has been oh-so-busted!
This photo makes it evident
how her life and Lent are spent.

[ASIDE: Coworkers shot evidence of her sleeping at her desk.]


110308

LOVE, LOVE ME, DO

If not top-of-mind,
it’s surely bottom-line
to all our prayers—
someone who cares.


110307

UNTITLED

All worlds
for me
will end
with me.


110306

HER HIGHNESS

In royal air and regal pose,
her rarified lineage shows—
and she, through its expression
makes quite a grand empression.


* * *

Alien Seditions

* * *


100523

THE POSSIBLE DREAM

Imagination or reality
(what I’m enamored of)?

How everything—
everything!—
only offers love.


SPRING THRILL

Window open.
Day borning.
Warm under covers
on a cool morning.


100522

NO RETREAT

Enlightenment rebirths us—
each insight, a debut;
each last exhale of old life,
the first inhale of new.


100521

DIFFERENT DATE,
DIFFERENT FATE

Evicted by rain,
worms mounted the roadbed
yesterday
and headed north—
or simply traveled in tandem
away from where they’d been.

I ferried them across.

Today’s refugees
are being escorted by a crow
to a different destination.


[TIDBIT]

Yesterday,
hawk in small tree.
Today, two hawks.


100521

COUNT ME IN

Ten million people are writing
(ten million people or more),
all wanting your attention
(ten-million-one or more).


ABOUT MY CAT

To my touch,
she was at first resistant,
so I took care—
was gentle and persistent.
Now she comes to my caress;
in fact, she is insistent.


CHORES

There’s nothing like
having something to do
to make you want to do
something else.


DEATH’S DEMEANOR

Will it be—
a long surmise?
a quick surprise?

or, as I suspect—
some grand disguise?


CLOWN

I thank God
for sight and smell,
and sound,
and sense—

but, most of all,
for irreverence.


UNFIT FOR SERVICE

Would a poet laureate
write about snot,
or boogers or cooties?
I think not!

Well, cross that off
my list of ambitions—
I have too many alien seditions.


THE WAY OF PLAY

My work
is as a poet
and is,
as it should be,
a work
to work aversive—
a work of truancy.


TAUNTRESS

My muse
is showing off tonight,
strutting her strange stuff—
daring, daring, daring me
to say, enough, enough!


100520

I AM GOING TO THE ZOO (for Lauren)

What I say is truly true:
I have nothing better to do.
I am going to the zoo.
To the zoo — Woo hoo! Woo hoo!!!


100519

ANTS IN YOUR PANTS

Spring rains
have driven ants inside
seeking places to abide.

They’re made to move—
and don’t move slowly.
They’ll hop a toe and take a ride,
then mountaineer a person’s hide.

The lowly ant
is not so lowly!


100518

WRESTLING

Pain has taken a
toe-hold on my body—
well,
a thumb-lock.


100517

THE BETTER PART

Martha—Mary
(prosaic—poetic, earthy—airy).

One weighted with work,
when work would wait.

One who chose a buoyant fate.


100516

BRITISH ACCENT

My partner's in the kitchen
making a pot of tea.

I'd applauded his suggestion:
"taking a spot of tea."


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