Blog Archives

Transylvania

Yay hooray
Achieved intoxication
Sorta kinda in-home vacation
Stay home, don’t alive
Avoid tickets and all that kinda jive
Thursday night
A faux start weekend
What will the future subtend?
Muscles, tendons
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
Breathing in
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
Yay hooray
Encountered Beatlemania
But there are still no vampires in Transylvania

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A Mother’s Day 2018

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.

Maple Leaf Dance

Faraway from the witnessing sun,
Escaped away from reproving glances of dead roses never sent,
Once dared think our love might grow,
But crushed beneath small expectation to answer for a knee unbent.
Loose laced shoes carry old feet forward on,
Stumbling with a book of ill written rhyme to find you there—
Polite as always but with nothing to add.
Assaulting the ramparts of indifference, I wonder if or should I care.
A frisson of longing ever lingers—
Some memories of dancing in our Maple Leaf Bar;
Happily ever after slips from old fingers
While an indifferent Moon grandly outshines any old star.

Avec Toi

I miss walking Paris
I miss Washington DC
I really miss those nice things
You used to think about me
I really like my neighbor
Even if I don’t know her name
Such things can’t be helped
There’s no one left to blame
The cat wants to meow outside
He doesn’t care much for Amelie
He just likes chasing whatever
Presents far away from me
I loved a Nordic goddess
I danced at her only wedding
We reconnected somehow on Facebook
Now I must vacuum, Jack keeps on shedding
I have seen true beauty
And felt arid with bottomless pain
I cannot understand the darkness
Kathy sees in Ashland’s daily grain train
I want to return to New Orleans
And lure the regard of a new pretty head
But I just write small lines in Austin
Watching Amelie avec a glass of Fonseca instead

Painfully Pretty

So I saw painfully pretty
Humble all in Scrabble
Saw painfully pretty
Whip core a green crab apple
Saw painfully pretty
Even give Cupid a start
Saw my painfully pretty
Discard this one’s heart
And I saw my painfully pretty
Ignore me across the dark-red room
Then saw painfully pretty soaring away
Upon her souped-up witches’ broom
If you ever see this scorching painfully pretty
Count your change and remember there is a tomorrow
Because this Crescent City painfully pretty
Will steal you blind and leave you alone in sorrow

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!

Shoulda

Shoulda said my prayers
Shoulda married her quick
Shoulda stayed home that night
Shoulda seen it’s all a dirty trick
Shoulda taken all my meds
Shoulda wrote a thank you note
Shoulda finished that book
Shoulda missed that boat
Shoulda asked her out
Shoulda sent the roses
Shoulda done a better ‘best’
Shoulda listened to Moses
Shoulda spent the night
Shoulda declined those invitations
Shoulda went merlot, not rose
Shoulda admitted I’d had my reservations
Shoulda admitted I was wrong
Shoulda sought the one thing that’s true
Shoulda realized it’s always a rainy day
Should I ever forget to tell you ‘I love you’

My Ever Lovely

I fear it is too late for true love
Waiting on now broken yet bent knee.
Is it even possible to capture happily ever after?
How do I find she, my ever lovely, from Gurnee?
Callow gazes have passed over to gray hair
As the dimples sink beneath the aged wrinkles.
A once-charming visage is but only hinted at now,
Though sometimes the eye can conjure crinkles.
And children have come and soon spouses fled—
Those great matches of youth are like history, all dead.
Is it now our time to trip lightly and fancy free?
Can we meet for just breathing on the streets of Gurnee?
But the sun sets on our seekers of real love;
Knights errant stumble now when bending to knee.
Is it even possible to capture happily ever after?
How do I find she, my ever lovely, from Gurnee?

Road Tripping

Why aren’t you here?
Why aren’t I there?
How empty is this place
And unrarefied the air!

Can we share a zip-code?
I’m losing the feel of your face.
Can we co-occupy the same room?
And your true smell I’ve not a trace.

To find you by the levee,
To hold you across a railroad,
It’s not about the chickens,
But rekindling that which has brushed cold.

Is it time for another road trip?
Can you meet me halfway?
State-line or Lake Charles–
Just say for a week you can stay!

Why aren’t you here?
Why aren’t I there?
Do you really, really miss me;
Cook me a sign that you still care!

Tu Et Moi

Hey! What’s cooking?
Girl, put on some pants!
I’m so so grateful
How you make can out of my can’ts.
Making birthday plans—
Who’s going out of town?
Can you tell me what’s coming up
Or how we’ll never live it down?
Tu et moi:
We still work this well-traveled path.
La dee dah—
Do you really want to do the math?
A glass or two
Usually really does the trick,
But you’re not that way
And I think I’m not that thick.
Wherever we’re going,
It’s the best being it’s homemade!
Let’s meet on the avenue;
We’ll try to find some shade.
Tu et moi:
We still walk this old graveled road.
La dee dah—
I could be your poeter a la mode.
Chocolateness coconut
Or a lemony doberge:
Sweet enough for everyone—
No taste ever to disparage.
Amused you’re a Muse?
There’s more on the way.
Let’s work this connection,
Girl, whattayasay?
Tu et moi:
With sunshine or a little rain
Thank you for answering—
It’s lovely to hear you again.
Ladeedah!