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!
The another has gone,
With the better returned,
Life curls out and onward—
Karma has forward churned.
Music and the Buddha
Parry for the soul of man.
We’re all about just doing
And becoming the best we can.
May All be happy
To whatever joy they aspire!
No thanks Mr Stewart:
I needn’t be taken any higher.
But today’s someone’s birthday:
Quite readily I wish you Many Happy Returns!
Be mindful of the hearts with which you tumble—
Howsoever cautious, some changes leave burns.
The rain keeps pelting
With a hint of winter bite.
I hope I live ‘til tomorrow.
Y’all, have a great night!
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.
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,
Tu et moi:
With sunshine or a little rain
Thank you for answering—
It’s lovely to hear you again.
Time is skip slipping
As the rain comes misting down
I think I really like you
With you I can sing and clown
Time is a sore pouring
The wine is half gone
Dance we again across the floor
We spin and spin until half-passed dawn
Time stops stupid short
You skitter sweetly out the door
You seem positively unsure
If you’ll come this way anymore
Time comes to do laundry
Separate the lights from the sweats
But we’d danced so hand-in-glove—
Always seem to lose at these kind of bets
Time for my daily bread work
Cloths are all neatly pressed
On a misty kind of rainy morning
One must always look one’s best
Because when the time seems right and the Sun supershines
The world may yet crash down but you still must work the mines
The candle sputtered
Then guttered out
The wick a speck in the wax
The old poet looked
And suffered to stand up
The last present wrapped was Jack’s
A fresh Christmas candle
Striped Santa red and holly green
With its new flame warmed the room
Placing presents about
A tree to shame Charlie Brown
The shards of wrapping left with the broom
The cat’s tail flicked serene
The poet reached for his quill
As words soft filled a new page
A chance Winter memory
Spurred the poet on
Thoughts neither steep nor very sage
She bought him skis for a gift
Though “cross” country would mean something else
Tears of laughter with every tumble and spill
He wondered where she was now
A score of years have long passed
When meeting on Concourse B was such the piquant thrill
Chinese Five Spices
Floated upon the solemn merlot
The poet paused to let the tightness pass
Tomorrow the two-state drive
Back to his beloved Crescent City
Though this year without his own wee lass
Daughter would be skiing
Off out with her Mother and half family
Cross country over in the mountain West
He’d be with swiftly aging brother
And a Christmas with the family Creole
But things always work out for the best
A meow and a sigh
The poet let Jack out the door
A cat in search of secret nocturnal meetings
The candle blew out neat
The cold front had as promised arrived
As the rain pelted out its Season’s Greetings
Waxing and waning here came Christmas Number Sixty-two
But he yet looked ahead brightly through this Yuletide in Blue
Some poems are wine lyric
Two goblets Clos du Bois
Others are simple syrup
Just so much blah, blah, blah
Now some too-humble wrought lines—
An old wrenched heart softly pines
Heart-tears gathering inside
Aching to let go and fall;
Words mocking a conscience
Of feelings so cold t’would appall
Terpsichore blanches, and then wilts,
Suffers in her marble a new deep fault:
Who can answer for these deaths?
Young stars ripped from the celestial vault
Haruka and Meechaiel pas de deux—
What are we all ever going to do?
The pain lingers…
The words won’t come…
Broken thoughts slip chalky fingers;
The glib finally struck dumb
How to unsee a sunset?
How to unhear the rain?
Where do we put these feelings?
Where do we plant the pain?
A far lightening pirouettes across your glance—
Dance for Haruka, dear friends…just dance
Katja Bunche Starlight flew as fast as fast can be over from Edelweiss.
Seems her cousin Sally Gossamer Wingstep had gotten caught in a jar—
The rains had come and she’d tried to hide in an old spout
Turned out to be a trap jar and now couldn’t get out!
Jonathan R. Spider, Olde Webmaster of Fairiekynd Forest,
Heard her cries and ran for help just as fast as his six legs could…
When Jonathan and Katja returned, the jar was gone!
Frantic they scurried and scurried trying to find her all day long!
Over across a fence and beyond the wide, flat plain
A wizened dog saw the two odd creatures buzzing and fretting and crying and all.
She tought she might perhaps ought wander over to the south fence
To see what just was what and try to curry up some sense.
“HARrrooo!” Spoke the dog.
Katja and Jonathan leapt great leaps at the sight of that huge dark-furred monster.
[As to fairiekynd forest fairy folk and a geriatrical spider, the black Labrador looked pretty humongous!]
“ARrwhat is the tizzy that makes you two so dizzy?” Enquired the dog.
Katja flew over to the fence, not too close to the fence, but over sorta to a nearby log.
“Our cousin is GONE! Jonathan here says she got stuck in a jar but the jar is nowhere about.
We came as fast as fast could be to try to let her out.”
“Arrumph!” Harrumphed the dog.
“I do believe little master 2-legs has her in the big house.
He likes catching fireflies and such and I am s’posing he has your cousin.
He was mighty tickled he caught something, but he couldn’t get over why it didn’t glow.
Yes, ARrrmm sure that’s your cousin. Little 2-legs just didn’t know.”
“My Cousin Sally IS NOT A TOY!” Exclaimed Katja.
“I ‘sposen you’re right…
Can I help?
I can take you over to the house. Maybe you two critters can get her.”
Offered the big dog, pensively grooming at an uncooperative bit of fur.
Jonathan shuddered and stammered and turned to the Alpine Fairy. “Are we going?”
“Of course, YES!” Spoke the fairy.
With as much elfin dignity as could be conjured, Katja slung Jonathan onto the back of the Labrador.
And then the trio headed for the big old house across the flat plain.
Wisteria and Sweet Olive wafted to the senses as they got to the window.
Upon the sill, Katja saw a jar and inside a damp cousin fairy looking pretty low.
“……………………..….!” yelled Sally from inside the jar.
“Don’t waste your strength, mouthed back Katja. We’ll get you out, I think???
Uh, my big girl, what’s your name?”
Well, lessee…it used to be Coco, but now it’s Jenny, it’s all the same.
“Uh, ok, Coco-Jenny, I’m Katja and this is Jonathan.
“HARarrroo!” Welcomed the dog.
“Hiya.” Stammered the spider, his courage a mite subpar.
“Ok, so Coco-Jenny, could you get your paws up so we can grab the jar?”
“Certainly!” Answered the dog.
With a tug, and a pull, and a push and a pull, Sally from inside, Katja and Jonathan from out
The jar finally slid off the sill and fell to the clover-carpeted ground.
“Quick, Coco-Jenny, grab the jar and take us back to the fence!”
“ARrrrright,” agreed the dog, tail awagging, caught up in the drama and suspense.
[At the fence, Coco-Jenny held the jar between her massive paws as Jonathan and Sally and Katja grabbed the lid and PULLED! After a second, Katja had to instruct Jonathan that it might be better if they all pulled in the same direction. Coco-Jenny thought to herself that she’d never seen a spider blush quite like that. Fiiinnnally…the lid slid and popped off the jar as out shot Sally. Streaking up and following behind was Katja.]
A relieved Jonathan then ponderously threaded up to the top of the fence—
“So, Coco-Jenny. What happened? Why do you have two names when one is sufficient for most of us?”
Well, lessee…long ago, after outgrowing being the runt of the litter, this nice golden-haired lady got me and took me in. Then she went somewhere I don’t know and her housemate took me to the pound!”
“Wow! Uh, what’s a ‘pound’?” Johnathan not much caring for the word’s off sound.
“Oh, that’s a very important place they take animals to get reassigned, at least that’s what seems to have worked out. That gold haired kid was so sweet and all, but I’m doing real important work now with these old 2-leggers and their children and all. Big responsibility to wrangle these old folks and kinder in this big place. Get to run lots too in this big yard!” Crowed the dog.
“Well, that sounds pretty good. Thanks so very much for all your help.
I’m sure once Sally gets over being enjarred she’ll come over to say thanks too!”
“That’d be real nice of her. I don’t know what was my young 2-legger’s game,
Trapping nice folks like your…Sally, what wasser name?”
“Oh, Sally Gossamer Wingstep and her cousin Katja Bunche Starlight.”
“Well, nice to meet you all. Oh! Gotta go, the can opener is buzzing so dinner’s on.
Bye, Jonathan!” “Bye, Coco-Jenny!”
I think that old dog and forest spider have started a nice, new friendship run.