A scattering of quizzical looks,
A flurry of meaningful hugs,
Why must my sad lady fair
Scare as if all men are thugs?
More than a pair of kisses &
A small certain of rolled up eyes;
With a hand-to-palm reflex too old—
Ma’am, unspoken thoughts aren’t all lies!
Just gimme some shelter:
Those northern storms boil up so fast.
I’m not very sure your fear and dread
Will all night gunk us up in the past.
Lovely one retired just last week,
Congrats on your monies independent,
But risk a chance with a dancer cheek-to-cheek
Before your tired heart is completely spent.
To those eyes whose tears have shed Afghani sands—
Find your calm and take hold of loving carefully hands.
A glass, a slice, and a red rose,
Loving items that I can propose
That we share with the ones we love,
Whether still with us or gone above.
A day, a night, and a dawning;
I apologize for all this fawning,
But you make the day worth doing
And the long drive coming home and pursuing
The heart that beats also as well for me
Even if I’m not all that deep or even worthy;
Any hug or kiss or quick embrace,
Here, or really any old place,
Though now the cat meows impatient for attention
But wait, did I share with you my intention—
To find new ways to love you every day
Come rains or storms or what changes may
Turn the page like a Masterpiece plot surprise,
I will forever seek myself in your kind eyes,
And share no matter whatever calamity throws,
A glass, a slice, and a red rose.
Blunted and shunted off to the corner of a face
Hooded, angry, pleading—
A cold Covington, LA winter day,
But Bright Sunny,
But not his smile;
Peacoat buttoned up,
Why was he caged in his playpen inside the chickenWireFence?
Years later they’d say it was to
Keep out the snakes,
But the trauma was past and present,
He had boldly wandered into realms beyond a childhood safe and simple,
In the Brownie black and white photo he kept,
Kept for his own sake
The pain of his past rested on the front of his eyes,
Memory tempted then mocked and let loose in droplets.
Where now can pale usefulness express its wont?
How will tomorrow find reason inside old couplets?
Full-time folly found rest upon the other slack shoulder,
And swirling, the promise and the lie presented opportunely;
Yet a path coursed beyond the copse, bidding one to follow;
New memory scorned to breach history, to grow jejunely.
An old minstrel parsed a chord, and improved;
The song of song that choirs failed yet chimed aloud;
While pan wrens sauntered and soared ever above,
Dodging the eagles, falling, sprinting to eclipse yon cloud.
Tears will dry with hope and future and chance rekindled;
Goats may prance upon thatched roofs, high and mighty,
But the parson-chaplain rises early to great the new day,
And pale usefulness finds expression, keen and rightly.
Remember when too much was a great beginning
We’re so mature now
Remember how we fell for their sparkling eyes
We’re so much more mature now
Remember when buying the next album was SO TERRIBLY IMPORTANT
We’re so so mature now
Now Mama’s in hospice
Such a really nice place
Cannot remember the room number
She cannot remember my face
Remember Mama’s own too good recipe for love
We’re so getting mature now
Remember that parking space up behind the levee
Oh, too mature for all that now
Remember that first Domilisies’s half-oyster with a Barq’s
But finally I’ve achieved maturity now
One day I’ll be in hospice
Hope it’ll have a really nice place
Cannot find my Medical Power Of Attorney
Cannot find my Advanced Directives any place
But never will I forget those sparkling eyes
Oh but, now so mature and wise
“Beatles’ new record’s a GAS…”
Stepping out onto the bare cliff face
The windswept girl looked askance:
Been a while since Cajun land
And firing up that two-step dance.
The poet reached out his one good hand,
But missy just followed the sun—
Watched it all the way to the evenset;
He wondered if all was over and done.
Chances are and chances’ll be
Swirling all about with the wind;
While Cajun girl browns look away
From the boy whose hazels seem kind.
Insinuating bubbles emanated from the scuppered dragon
A fool’s bargain of untendered origin led us to just here
A poet’s lazily pulled rhymes flailed aloof on page one
A new path was desired, that much was perfectly clear
Could you loan me your smile since you’re not using it
Since my mood is lost in translation or nixed in transit
The meme of my distant daughter swears I haven’t Alzheimer’s
My phytonutrients seek softened skins and perplexity
Slices of hard orange sweet potato seek out boiling waters
But speeling is an acquired taste, marble at my dyslexity
Would you loan me your arms since you’re not using them
I’ve this tightness that rattles along with this morning’s phlegm
Heading happy back eastward on a defogged highway 71
Pralines and tourist cup delivered recorded on every tablet mile
But the aimless poet still cannot get off the floor of page one
Freezing rain means we’ll all meet here for quite a while
Could you loan me your eyes since you insist on not seeing
My arms and smile reaching for my most favorite human being
Diddybob down the sidewalk.
Haven’t got a clue;
Tootsie Roll Pop or broccoli;
How’re things with you?
Sun is warm today.
What can you afford?
Beatles on the stereo,
Crafting words to the blackboard.
Got the second job.
Haven’t got a clue
What were those words?
Lagniappe, turkey, and glue.
Itty bitty kitty paw prints
Tracking off in the snow.
Feeling pretty good today.
Faith lingers at the edge,
Rush to chance a storm’s breath,
Foreign eyes play and snuggle,
Harrass despair to revel with the essence underneath.