Blog Archives

Summer Fancy

Across the dank protean mire
On the slope of a mowed field
The breeze rumples a page over
And the lass missed the poets last verse
Bewitched by the youth’s jogging pace passing by
She dared imagine his arms about hers
And pondered about passion’s cruel curse

The sudden rain scampered our lass
While the boy turned north and to dorm
The promise of Summer freshened newly
Like Latin winds bringing Mercury back to Rome
And a new Arachnida’s web is woven
Life and Death never pause nor long tarry
A half Moon finds the eve’s far horizon
Rooms aren’t the only thing empty back home

Shy winking stars spangle up
To make smart the Southern sky
Lass and lad miles apart wash dishes done
Neither knowing the others’ longing heart
Many mini plans made for reading nooks
A mighty edifice rises in the Tangipahoa
A counselor and her crook’s getaway suite
In a half-told love tale just at the start

A Gulf Storm Warning

We know nothing much good happens after the midnight hour,
So I hold little hope for these late writ lines.
Knocking about my Alexandria, at last, cleaned bower,
Remembering a lost love this old heart forever pines.
Storm warnings now up all along the Gulf coast—
Flash floods looming to wash away the humid mire.
I believe still it’s you that I miss hardest and most.
Reunite? Tis ever beyond that which I could hope to aspire.
Dribs and drabs of longing sated in your Facebook posts,
Whether mountain stream or shells along a sandy beach.
How is it we manage to pass young memories to graying ghosts,
And that one true love flies off to be forever beyond reach?
Dishes all washed up and time to take scant wishes to bed;
Today’s crossword awaits there to challenge clue by clue.
Though instead of the Los Angeles Times, I rather be with you instead,
And on the nightstand next to us were your newest daisies blue.
This storm will pass, and Summer blue skies will again find the coast,
Though it is ever you that I will miss the hardest and the most.

Where Are My Stars?

Where are my stars?
Why hath my comforting night lights left me
To blacked out windows in this small room
With not even full curtains to reel with the spring breezes;
Blinds keep the outside away and reflect my aloneness.
Leaded words with dissonant chording try, but fail
To stir thoughts of brighter days and warming evenings.
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.
The roof needs repair?
The steps brittly break and the animals snort their disdain.
Mothers hurry their kinder swiftly past the door.
In this late-March cold winds sink and lank rains linger.
Sore joints and crookt fingers lift but cannot reach.
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.
The tree killers have done their deed.
The cable lines are now safe to carry each and every thirty-minute fat show
With prospering inanities, but you can do better; if I may have a word—
Dark thoughts, cachectic dreams attend me now.
Do not come this way: the path is unsure, and the end obscured.

Alone With The Jagged Cold

I don’t quite think it was the jagged insult of the cold while stepping out from the shower;
It couldn’t have been the yawning cold empty space beside me on a still unmade bed;
Perhaps it was that the single cup of instant coffee was just okay enough with real soymilk;
Certainly not the unresponded to question of what possibly could I have said to you instead.
More than I surely love you.
More than we can go so far.
More than dreams seek the possible.
More than let’s get out of this damn bar.
I don’t know but the cat claw calls for more food for his old porcelain bowl;
I don’t understand but the heater needs a filter shift out with the coming cold;
I can’t see the change that the sunsets promise for those unparoled tomorrows;
But I could have added that the place beside my heart is all yours, truth be told.
Unless the future scares you.
Unless you can’t chance chance.
Unless my words wither at your feet.
Unless all those maybes can only translate into can’ts.
And, down the tracks and beyond the call to prayer and the next bead-toss parade
I go on with my so lonely but hopeful heart, though I’m not quite sure I got it made.

Forgiving Father Marvelous

Moving down the page
At an acceptable change of pace,
We were so kind of in love,
Though I seem to have misplaced her face.
But I’m sure she was brunette
And possessive of wit and lust,
But like most of my choices
It all kinda went for spit and bust.
So here I write Saharan poetry—
Dry and empty as this Austin life.
Hoping better for the kid unit;
Truth oft separates like a steak fat knife.
No, no deep answers here:
Just marooned on the less traveled.
Awaiting that unadorned underbox
Overlaid in Southern granite that’s neatly marbled.

Sure As Felicity Follows Terpsichore

The Ice Queen turned from the window
The curtain folds draped back into proper place
She was again content in her Keep
Having begun to forget his absent face

While the snow salted the pines
Squirrels burrowed deep in their nests
The Ice Queen folded into her chair
Dinner as ignored as her discontents

She recalled his rude voice:

“Please give me back my delta—
Any seat on any levee on the Mississippi,
I gotta get back to Nawlins,
Sure as Felicity St. follows Terpsichore.

So take that cork out of vin St Francis
To go where we’ve been before,
Sonoma will have to do
Waiting for my Crescent City encore.”

But the Ice Queen felt a shiver versal of her own—

The ghost of a loss lingered lumpen there
Left hard upon her heart of gold
A tale one could tell of mind, body, and soul
If ever one was to be so bold

She’d been that comely lass with golden locks long,
Lovely as the dawn in the Spring;
Now she kept to her Keep,
Love a scoffed-at trifle, a mere unknotted string

But a heart-twist pulled her up short—

Where am I going?
Who will lead me there?
The fog isn’t lifting
And I fear the very air!

Are you really in love?
I know I would like to be;
Could we soon catch up somewhere?
Could you tarry with someone odd like me?

A dread expanded where certainty fled—

One day without you
Is a rainy day at the zoo;
Another night without you:
A starless, moonless night too blue;

She allowed: Come on over….

My Lady combed her silken, yet gold locks
And made her ministrations for bed.
She remembered her lists for the morrow
And made her solo cooling path to bed.

His eyes and tossed locks followed her to her dreams—
He to his beloved Delta, She to her duty and schemes.
The curtain folds draped back with proper straight lace,
She again content in her Keep and all in its correct place.

Synched

So are you newly married
Have you happily rewed
Are all my dreams in vain
And nothing more need be said
Are things really better at the ‘Dale
Getting home often before dark
Would you like to get together
Perhaps a catchup walk in the park
So you have a new number
Does it come with a new ring
No, that’s not my heart crashing—
It’s just missing you is a close thing
So, missed my chance when I blinked
It’ll have to be enough to be linked
Nothing more need be said
And, all my vain dreams are now synched

Git

Dar haint enuf chock cake
Ice cream ner gran marneha
to get me to stop missing you
The sweetness of just you is just
Too much to bear for just one day.

Dar haint enuf ours
Yours and all odat
To get me next to you
The empty of whar you was still is
Too cold for coals to make hat

So gib me more odat
Crimson glasses of some vine cold
To close all mine eyes on you
Perchance to dream of a new one else
To love befo I’m git old

Patience Exacts

My mind is gone
My time is not my own
My heart is besotted
My dreams on hold
My wishes burn soft
My hopes transmit
I pray for you the simple very best
Your hug and kiss await
With anticipation

Love In Reverse

Clad in regret
And coif’ed in despair,
Another day has passed—
You, uncalled by the phone by the chair.
Cobwebs adorn all
My old dreams forlorn;
The rains did fall,
And refreshed, the pasture of the lost awaits the morn.
Wick wagging,
A candle mocking—
Here, the only flame that burns
Lights a keyboard click clocking.
Poet bent double,
Love in reverse.
Is the regret or the rhyme
Which tarries for the worse?