Blog Archives

A Great Beginning

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…”

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…

The Names

The names, the names, the names, the names,
O my goodness, the names—
The person we knew,
The people we met,
The families we held,
The tears we let.
Our team was called,
Our team replied,
Our team toiled,
On each other our team relied.
The names, the names…
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake…”
Bless our hospice for the care we take.
The names….

Wats Dere Looking For?

Does you see dem crows rousting in my lawn?
Can you tell me wats dere looking for?
Can you be my girl, I write so much better then?
But loud came the watercooler repairmen—
And chased away my better dream.
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
First glass gone,
Second glass, looming—
What “engrasse” provokes birds so?
Where’s true love, do you know?
I believe I need to find a Muse.
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
We’re gonna have a man’tory meetin:’
Number one billion ten thousand two-ish
Clearcommunicationiskey:
Wats it about? GO FISH!
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
Does you see dem crows rousting in my lawn?
Can you tell me wats dere looking for?
Skeeters, beetles, crawlers creepy-oh!
If only us arachnids knew what was in store….

Gratitude

Somewhere between the pain and the passion,
And the lies we tell ourself,
From “Hey, let’s go for it” on the way to
“Leave it on the shelf;”
When at last we lay me down to sleep
Did you take time to savor the flowers?
Did all your efforts lead to the Good?
Were less taken paths worth the long lost hours?
Meanwhile, Grandma floats in hospice,
She can’t hold onto your name,
But her late smile traces the eternal-
She’s always glad you came.

I’m Here

The Sun fell down the usual way:
Gold to pink to black.
The end of another tawny Spring day,
And no, they’re not coming back.

Too many deaths on Hall 5:
Cancer, Dementia, and Heart Attack;
Old and young lives fading away;
Don’t care our hospice census is on track.

The Moon creeped out its old way:
Half to gibbous on passing high;
Poor professionals lacking an out to pray—
Is it really okay for the licensed to cry?

Tomorrow returns the Sun in bust:
Azure to pink to hot white.
Not only families ache when loved ones return to dust.
Come, sit, and let’s talk a mite….

Ankle Breeze

The angry drubbing from the cold January Sun

Has beaten all the trees’ leaves to the ground;

The peal by a distant neighborhood campanile

Offers but pastel respite from this new winter day.

After hours and an ankle breeze brushes cold
Times bear hard and thoughts scare appalling—
Late on a school night and we risk a third glass bold;
Excuse me, dear, but why is it hospice keeps calling?

Home—a far place unreachable, unknowable, except as

Errant memories allow.

Three score save one with 22 gray days to go,
Yet cannot believe one keeps falling.
Walked this way thousands of times but now…don’t…know,
But why does hospice keep calling?

Tomorrow comes to call as if knowing

Something…

Just Thinking

Thinking young
I thought young
Flying and getting it all
Now older
Thinking less bolder
I grieve for my friend after a fall
She’s a lady
Who may have lived shady
Now sees her final goodbyes
Thinking plain
I think I might not see her again
I pray it’ll be peaceful/pain-free as she dies
Thinking young
I thought young
Playing and winning in the end
Thinking now about age
I turn to my own aging page
Writing thanks for my old friend—
Since it’s understanding we’ve won