Virtual Railfanning

I find myself caught in the mist between maybe and the maybe not,
With this shredded rudder and a jib which fails at its level best.
Is life always so testable? Please let it be multiple choice—
As fat fingers reach for another glass filled to its crest.

Now with passing rains that’ll never leave any trace,
We’re all a part of this same tired joke—
All of us punching the tattered line;
Whispering guffaws our parents wouldn’t have dared spoke.

Randomness lingers without offering any answers;
Hope smugly rises, then fades like a chimera.
There’s a late train passing thru Folkston—
COTU waves warm and deeply into the camera.

Passion calls bravely:
No one ought respond.
Remember the days of Doctor Who
And those wished-for nights with Amy Pond?

The poem yearns for some fulfilling reason;
Something clever, poignant, worthy of being read.
Ha! Good luck with all that—
I’m virtually going back to Ashland VA instead!

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Throw Me Something Mister

Did ya see it—
That smile on that little kid’s face?
I’m pretty really actually sure
The kid doesn’t want to be in any other place.
Did you see that smile—
On the masked fellow on the float # 3?
Those two open hands slicing thru the air
On this Mardi Gras in 1973.
Oh, how the sun came out,
Full and bright and warm;
The rays coursing, bouncing
Off all the doubloons arcing so above in a swarm.
Hear it? Tinkly, tinkle, sprinkles—
Doubloons all over the place!
Watch your fingers! Grab ‘em all up!
All gone! Not even one trace!
Didja see that—
That smile on the baby’s face?
The kid just gave her a doubloon!
Oh yes, this is such the happiest place!

Friday The 13th Acadien

He ain’t user friendly
He prefers bottom shelf
You’ll never see it coming
He won’t much mind, himself
“Baby’s toys gracing the floor”
She asks if there’s gonna be another stanza—
“Baby breathless, asking for more”
He gets the glasses down from the credenza
He don’t care who won the game
He hates to mow the lawn
He’d like to return to Barcelona
But, well, he’s slightly overdrawn
“So, what are we up now, love?”
His muse has some quite juicy lines—
“Don’t worry, baby, we have the time.”
She has the all of everything for which he pines.
He writes the stuff after dark
He likes his second glass
The neighbors seem to cringe:
Pity, he really hasn’t much class
Remember, deeply, the seventies
When Zeppelin was all the rage?
(This rhymester’s saddest secret:
Why wasn’t he born Jimmy Page?)
He steals words from his muse:
“Carefully caressing every soft contour”
Anticipation sweet, removing those fancy shoes:
“Even her red toes, that he does adore”
He thinks he can dance
He’s torn it up with the best.
But here comes Friday the 13th
He won’t much mind this test.

–thanks for writing assist by June O!

Nawlins Midsummer

Half busted moon slides across
A night of not much else
Drums beat in a far corner
Quiet are all the Christians’ bells

Too early for sin on a Nawlins porch
Summer-weary friends meet to meet
John facebooks the yard to full
Rosemary arrives and all smiles turn sweet

Half busted moon brushes the wan horizon
People couple and make across the yard to part
John bides all to safely walk and drive
Some head to the Maple Leaf for some sinning to start

Drums warming in a far corner
Still quiet are all those Christian bells
A hot guitar lick kicks the night in gear—
Oh the promise Rosemary’s glinting eye tells

Freedom [preposition] Religion

Two lapsed Catholics
Sitting neath the tree
Contemplating the meaning
Of Eternity.
First comes Doubt,
Followed by Despair,
Then they’re closing down all the bars
Because they just don’t…
Give a rat’s rear end anymore.

NEVER Ask Meringue The Reason Why

Arrogant cupcake
Pompous pie
NEVER ask meringue the reason why
Ice cream socialists
Mainstream macaroons
Dessert before Indignity ever the cry!
Gimme the sweet
Gimme the custard
I don’t quite think
Cookies go with mustard
Uppity lemon zest
Dowager doughnut
Gotta get a dozen on a dare
Chocolate immalted
Maple syrup unfurled
Oh how Nanny will stare
Gimme the sweet
Gimme the sugar
I brush and I floss
Everyone licorice one another!

Five?

One glass gone
And my poetry’s weak
Two glass gone
It’s been a week
Three glass gone
I cannot speak
Another glass gone
Am I a freak?
I prefer a little Taylor
With my poignant Lennon
When you party
Who do you lean on?
Nope, no girlfriend
And, so I wine
Naw, no reason
[Put the stereo on ten] let’s all rock on!
One glass gone
Let’s radiate
Two glass gone
Obfusticate
Three glass gone
Prevaricate
Four glass gone
Hey, You, wait!
Who’d have guessed?
If I was depressed
We work in hospice
We’re all a bit stressed
But Sarah then flies free
We all applaud
Is it Summer all ready?
Oh, Lawd, Lawd, Lawd…
One glass gone
And my poetry’s freak
Two glass gone
Hide and seek
Three glass gone
I cannot speak
Another glass gone
I shouldn’t speak…