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Poor Little Sweet Tooth
What? No petit fours?
Tres triste tous les jours!
And no fruit cake?
For goodness sake!
And nary a praline…
How absurdly obscene!
Poor, poor little sweet tooth
Not a thing to satisfy your craving—
It’s just enough to drive a little kid
To squander that Snickers he was saving.
How about some sufganiyot?
Anything sweet have you got?
Or perhaps a coffee attending a beignet?
Please, please, something sweet for us today!
Poor, poor little sweet tooth
Such sufferings for you, forsooth!
For you such a paltry slog—
Not even a single Yule log!
So when comest these holidays,
And tastes edge toward the saccharine,
Better be good and don’t even pout—
They’ll be no sugar dusting for your chagrin!
So poor dear little sweet tooth
When sweets seem rare without reason
Best bend your little craving thoughts
Towards why deeply sweet in this December season.
Peace and Shalom!
You’ve No Power Here
The glass misted over,
But that’s not entirely right
It was a more liquid remorse
That bedewed my lensed sight
She had borne my child
But she couldn’t bear me
Seems 8-balls and feng shui
Aren’t long together friends-to-be
Another dark winter passing
Cold fronts, love chill, and lost friends—
In the negative balance amassing:
All aspiration to the living Nature bends
Where is our Episode IV New Hope,
In reconciliation or masked medicines?
A new maturity is whispered for and called upon—
Can we but rise up above all these civil venal sins?
Digital Sith and Jedi return to the nursery;
All illusion is dead, what’s to become of me?
My Princess No Longer
We conquered mighty castles
Together, in blanquette or in the sand
Flew great heights on swings
Soared up Austin hills hand-in-hand
We shared in many battles:
Mastery in the great tragedy of Trigonometry,
Consumed Texas History and First Violin,
And developed a healthy skepticism of Allah and Deuteronomy
Some wars were personal:
The treachery of childhood friends;
While learning great truths—
That the means don’t always justify some ends
But today my princess walks ahead
Out of my guidance and out of my reach
No more to cavort on trampoline
Or harry stubborn castles on a beach
Her fresh adventure awaits—
Arm-in arm with her new young prince,
A meeting of Love and Good Sense;
She hasn’t been my princess since
But our regard hasn’t been stronger
Even if she is my princess no longer
Young Love Pauses
Marcus V Featherstone winged about the morning mist
Contemplating marvelousness if Sally G. he might have kissed
But she’s far too grand, he thinks, for one as insignificant as he
Perhaps if he completed the Annual Race to the toppermost of the Queen’s Tree
The he might could just barely maybe conclude he warrants the attention of said miss
Sally G. foraged amongst the garland vines of fairykind’s farthest field
She commanded by the memory of a certain someone’s cool violet eyes to yield
But he’s far too grand, she thinks, for one as insignificant as she
Perhaps if she completed the Annual Race to the toppermost of the Queen’s Tree
Then she could just might perhaps sort of conclude she warrants his attention to wield
The morning of the Annual Race dawned a foggy and clammy-close though yet Grand Affair
But such was the history and joy of the Queen’s Event that most of fairies did nae much care
But that few reached the canopy and much warning was about the hazards of such a quest
Some trained for years, and though many many failed to summit, they all tried their honest best
Oh, but at Start Time, the mist cleared, the skies blued, and the weather could be a day most fair
Marcus V. would go the southern approach and make his noble stab for glory
Sally thought after the eastern boughs to write the best of her winged story
Neither knew of the others flight plan or even that they would be there
Neither thought the other could possibly think this would be a thing wise to dare
Oh, then clouds shrouded the Sun and the gathering mists promised to turn the day most hoary
Lost in the dark and the fluff Sally alighted on the next promising soft tree bough
Crushed in the knowledge of this failure: what, oh what would she do now
Flying way off course, Marcus drifted ever and more further east
Summiting the Queen’s Tree seemed a dream to be cast off as a need least
But a far soft keening did Marcus and Sally perceive, but to reach the fairy, how
Working bough to bough, the two young winglets sought to help the crying one
Shaking off disappointment as this had been their plan for a heart to be won
Sally got there first to find a wee fairy far too high for his own good
Trying to impress a stern lofty Father as if such heroics ever ever could
Marcus arrived shortly after, tamping down his joy for the good that needed to be done
Down the tree Marcus and Sally silently escorted their frightened cold charge
Stealing glances at each other, young love paused, though their longing loomed large
His Mother flew up to embrace her naughty though ever brave young son
Father too weeping flew up to his boy, holding his loved and cherished one
Sally and Marcus feathered off, such a familial scene they knew not into barge
Marcus V Featherstone flutterbuzz-winged about the morning mist
Sally G foraged amongst the garland vines of fairykind’s farthest field
Remembering how the moment came when longing caused something to yield
And at the foot of the Queen’s Tree, as Marcus made his thanks, his cheek Sally had kissed!
But Sally Gossamer Wingstep already was planning to train for next year’s Queen Tree’s Race
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…”
Harbored Dreams
Back when I harbored dreams of happiness
I never knew someone like you could exist;
Now bereft of illusions of happily-ever-after
I have also lost you to the intangible mist.
Gray hairs belie verse-play at candor,
Dread of isolation my long sole companion;
Such chutzpah of thinking it possible—
To reach you across Love’s great canyon.
At best you’ll admit a charming acquaintance,
For which I can only ever be grateful;
Sparing you the hurt and the desperation
That leaves one piteous and hateful.
Now the sun rises cold though promising,
For the day is still young and carefree.
Are you returning to the far hill country?
Please convey wishes for well ease from me.
Kitt
pueriles 