Me thinking:

about the web, connected in intricate high wires

dangling, trickling inadvertently behind me,

as I walked through the pines

with a feeling  I felt,

 I had left!

 

Never touching the ground,

I moved with patience

on silk trepidation

—for a life, that insists

 to be defined.

 

Me waking up:

The thread of my existence is never behind!

Nor could I manufacture a web;

that connects me to illusive time.

 

I Shook it off with a wiggle—

that trickled

inadvertently

 behind.

            ~~~~~

I had to grab something to protect myself

from transparency

when you kicked me in the groin!

I collapsed in the shower,

wrapped in aluminum foil.

 Bad bad puddy-tat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Advertisement

 

Ice Fishing With Only One Tip Up (An Ode to sweet Pepper Relish)

sweet pepper relish

What else could I wish

On a Bob-House-Grilled hamburger.

Buns stuffed in my mouth with a death grip

pulling up my Derby winning fish

drooling only a lil’ bit

 of that darn sweet pepper relish

A ditty for E-R & Red beard : )

 

A Private Conversation With Me And I

My life has misplaced my glasses,

The remote, and my e-mail password.

“Stop staggering,

Are you disoriented”?

Yes, someone has stolen my memory.

And, taken all the labels off the cans.

“Oh Shoot-MaHoot,

what are you going to do”?

Open one or two cans

And, expect a supper surprise! What else can I do

Go hungry— never knowing what else to do?

“Sounds right, eat right,

Walk it off, sing a song,

then take a shit

Before you go nite-nite.

 

Hmmmmmm…

 

Glasses, remote, and e-mail note

are balanced on the toilet paper.

left there last night,

busy thinking about tomorrow.

 

Oh, and your cup…

And tea bag

Are on the saucer

On the windowsill.”

Thanks, I remember—  now

I am, on my way there.

 

A poem For My Grandson PoPo

Small Spider in my car catches me unaware,

tickling on my chin.

How did he get in?

So sweet, so cute, what should I do with him?

I’ll stick my head out the car window— at 50 miles per hour

That should be the last of him.

Shoot! There goes my hat.

But not, apparently, still hanging on,

Is my new best friend.

 

Sweet “Crazy Kids”

( original posted 2013 and revised for Monday WRite and Sunday’s, Poetry Pantry)

Sea weed, seaweed, slurping near the beach.

Cautiously  side stepping, avoiding it from our feet.

Slippery slapping, splashing barely surfacing for us to see.

Oh my gosh!

What is that SLITHERING? And SQUISHING?

Well yaaa! EEEEK!

Run for the beach!

Look! Look!

Where?

Here! See, SEE where it bit me?

Naw, I don’t see nuthin’,

BUT, let’s get out of REACH.

 

What’s Her Name

When she was younger, strong and stern,

She raised me in punctuality, good manners,

And, God-fearing morality.

 

I remember one evening, when I was fifteen,

Excusing myself from the supper table, hair still combed and face washed clean;

I said I was going out for a walk, and, “was there anything she might need?”

 

I opened the front door, rushing without discreet,

I heard her holler, “be back before eight.

You have an hour of homework and I expect you, not to be late.”

 

Well… the time did fly and so did I,

When I heard the clock tower striking nine.

What have I been thinking, not paying attention to the time?

 

Hoping she was busy somewhere in the house;

Perhaps in the kitchen, or, in the bathroom undoing her hair,

Any place else but in the front hall in that familiar overstuffed chair.

 

Nope! No such luck. There she was, as I opened the door,

With a half-smile of melting stern

Asking me, “sooo… what’s her name?”

*Picture of my Mother 🙂

 

A note found on the refrigerator in April

Whee!

 

It’s not what you saw,

            Or, the illusions you have seen;

It is how you experienced the process,

           where ever you have been.

 Realizations, at it’s very best.

 

This splattering and spluttering

            are promises at it’s worst.

They come and we go

            We die and we grow

And grow again to land, face-up to rest.

 

So let us go and gather what we need,

           While we are here. Sit and see,

Embrace yourself, then go and gather.

           Enjoy the same ride

Of your rain drop and enjoy the splatter

            Wheeeeeee…

 

An Awakened Winter Bee

She started with a smile, speaking of her past

And all the flyers that she has ever met

And all that have left.

 

What then do I offer her?

Stillness in the air, running out of space,

She says, “I like your curls.

 

Would you like a drink?” I ask for tea, but, thinking

I have to fly lower, I start to sink.

She gets closer to me

 

And say’s “do you want me?”

How do I answer her warmth and body

Pressing tighter, offering her my wings,

 

Lips tender, and hands

Pushing mine over her hips

With familiar intimacy?

 

I smile looking back at my past

Flying, landing

In the arms of a spring flower;

 

Like an awakened winter bee.

 

Sweet Lover’s Tea

Oh boy, I just spilled more honey

in her tea

than I expected!

It’s still dripping;

no matter how I turn the jar.

I swipe the opening

with a willing finger;

licking it, putting the cover on tight,

I suspect, I’ll be as sweet

as her tea, tonight.

 

 

Existential Re-union: The real King and Queen

How can a king, be king,

            When the Queen, continues to dawdle?

Or, the queen be queen,

            When the King, continues to dawdle?

 

When the Queen, continues to dawdle,

Or, the queen be queen,

Then what does it matter,

 

When the King, continues to dawdle?

They need an existential re-union,

Not an egotistical waddle.

 

(Hmmm! Sounds like someone has to wash the dishes,

And the other, has to wipe.

 They can both put them away.)