Sorta kinda in-home vacation
Stay home, don’t alive
Avoid tickets and all that kinda jive
A faux start weekend
What will the future subtend?
Fascia in full alarm
Tho’ never meant you no harm
Need a haircut
And a full-time occupation
Please a reprise in a better situation
My book arrives from Amazon
Still here, tho’ rather’d be gone
A wonderful moment
Aspirin and merlot do attest
Brunettes t’embrasse really are the best
But there are still no vampires in Transylvania
Posted in Poem
Tags: And Your Bird Can Sing, aspirin, Beatlemania, brunette, change, growth, hurt, love, merlot, pain, redemption, rotator cuff inflamation, staycay, Thursday night, vacation, vampires, wanting a change
It was two glasses in
And the curling memory of brunette hair,
But she has erewhile gone
And Sonoma Merlot just doesn’t care.
The rhymes won’t come—
Here I am inside this couplet mess.
I guess it takes more than mere Love
To complete this synapsing poetic process.
Meld two roughs into one,
Balance the scan and mind the rhyme,
Maybe I’ll get some ‘Likes’;
I manage to do so from time to time.
Fear floods in;
I managed to lose my job.
Now with gray hairs and beard
Who now would care to hobnob.
Today next-door neighbor
Pleasantly responded to my hi and hello.
There’s no ‘there’ there
And it’s so past time for me to go.
Brother turned sixty—
Who knows about sixty-one.
Wish we were better friends;
A brother would be nice on this long end run.
We need a finishing couplet to release our tortured reader;
It’s all good, love from your poet, another forgotten bottom feeder.
Posted in Poem
Tags: age, aging, attraction, brunette, composing, couplets, death, family, fear, friends, giving up, graying, hobnob, likes, longing, love, Love lost, memory, merlot, neighbors, poet, poetry, process, serendipity, Sonoma wine region, synapse