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Love’s Volunteer
Not in love
Don’t even know your name
So why can’t I forget you—
What is this game?
That pretty ring
On your wedded finger
Keeps it real
So I won’t linger
Doesn’t matter
Your eyes’re so fine
That promise you made
Won’t let you be mine
I’ll get the door—
Onto a future apart
Maybe in your next lifetime
You could take the rest of my heart
Hope and Future and Chance
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.
Add A Little sgt Pepper
O sing me song by Old Billy Shears
Tell me we’re in days and nights of shifting gears
Promise me it’ll all be completely okay
That we can certainly disagree and still go out and play
I just need somebody to love
O promise me something
A hope to last all day
A guarantee of smiles
A game for all to play
And of course Henry the Horse dances the waltz
Voters are so serious
A future to ball and chain
Leave them their ballots
Recounted again and again
With our love we could save the world
Lend me fair breezes
Skies full of scudding clouds
Miles of rolling farmland
Serrated by old plows
Sitting on a sofa with a sister or two
Beaches bathed in sunshine
With waves of crashing surf
Or mountain valleys misted
Rocks peeking through the turf
Now they know how many ‘holes it takes to fill Albert Hall
We did scavenge Old Dixie
But, a baby is on the way
A guarantee of smiles
How James and Jessie will play
Yours sincerely, Wasting Away
Jezebel’s Halloween
The scarred foil yielded,
Merlot found the bottom where dregs lay;
A cork sealed again,
Words limbered as Fall rains fell all day.
No pictures were ever sent from Pearlington.
Another’s dream has left the Pass,
Uncommon memories fade;
Time to refill one’s paisley-stained glass.
The black cat dropped down
Licking a lank paw;
A last leaf spirals to stillness
Alone in Death’s maw.
That chill in the middle of the back
Mocks the dread in your gut;
The screech-shriek died in a jaw slack;
Not in fear, twas anything but.
A stab of lightening you will recall,
Lit the surprise awaiting us all—
Jezebel was alive!
Then, your last fall.
It was just a simple October,
A parceled out poor Saturday.
A scandal of rains hung low,
But things were going your way.
Of course you were invited!
You’d bought that ruby bottle;
The costume party hinted promise,
And the fun engine roared to full throttle.
The storm rains had burst forth
As all the corks let fly.
Twas warm in the foyer
And your love you did espy.
The oriel would be deserted,
So Jezebel led you away:
Promises yielded to plea;
Yes, you could stay.
Upriver the dam was holding
As the partygoers were off at last.
Yes, alone with your Jezebel—
Passion unleashed as costumes off-cast.
But no one heard the rush…
Addams’ Dam was no more.
The wall of water they say
Was high—35 feet or two score.
Awakening drowning atumble,
You and Jezebel tried to cling to bedclothes,
But no succor there would be found;
Swept away as flood’s torrent flows.
Finding at long last each other;
Fear full afloat while loss uplifted;
The roar of the Onion Falls called.
You knew, only one can be shifted.
Grabbing Jezebel one time last,
You kicked for the nearing shore.
Flinging with all your might…
Her lips never to taste evermore.
A stab of lightening lit your Jezebel:
Safe on a branch was your fair miss—
She made it!
She reached… as you embraced the abyss.
Witches each year prowl the precincts
In company with jack-o’-lantern’s snarl obscene.
But things won’t ever be the same,
Not for Jezebel’s Halloween.
Kitt
pueriles 