One For Laura

C’mon let’s go
I’ve been waiting for hours
Time to conquer
All poetry’s towers

Open the doors
Let loose the knowledge
I gotta learn this stuff
If I wanna get into college

Dickinson and Eliot,
Starting with Gilgamesh,
But trust me, you’ll lose me
If you include ole John Tesh

So, let’s learn about rhyme
In all its naïf pentameter
Hey, this isn’t too bad
For an old rhyming amateur

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Hey Mom, Hey Dad

Hey Mom, hey Dad
I have some news,
It’ll make you glad:
Lilly’s finished college,
She’s done with school;
Has bunches of job offers
And she’s still nobody’s fool—
Aint she something!

Hey Mom, hey Dad
There’s a little more news,
But this may be bad:
It’s about your eldest son;
There’s spots on some x-ray;
Nothing more to be done—
For me, it’s always something.

Hey Mom, hey Dad
I’ve something to say,
Hope you don’t get too mad:
I hate it you two weren’t around,
Seeing Lilly born, happy and growing;
See life worth living per every pound—
And that’s saying something!

Hey Mom, hey Dad
I guess I’ll go now
To face my own version of jihad;
Meet looming troubles on the yon side of living
With the grace to see the better in all,
Or at least yield to loss with a heart forgiving—
I hope this all meant something.
By Mom, Bye Dad

[I’m fine. Xray verse for poetic effect.]

Old Flame

Hello, old flame—
Is it time to relight dead embers?
And are your eyes green or blue,
Asks the one who never remembers?
And do you remember when
We sunburned on Sandbridge Beach,
Searching for a lifelong love
That was always so far out of reach?
One of us sailed away;
The other went back to school.
Luckily you had escaped
A life with this poor old fool.
And why do we always reframe
The errors of our youthful past?
Now so older and wiser,
We know nothing can so long last
As the longing for sure arms;
Or someone to chase the dark cloud.
But, it seems to be my lot
That that someone I’m not allowed.
So, I guess I have to ask:
Do you even remember my name?
Because here I come a-calling—
Hello, old flame.

Happy Mom’s Day

Tattered apron and a stout heart,
Soup toiling in a bowl flavored with hugs aplenty,
And ever more’s a part
To paint that picture of Mom—
We remember she:
Who brushed away all the tears,
And our shock of hair covering our view of her unending
Loving support no matter how foolish our fears.
Attending every school play,
Helping with Math and that awful Science project,
And packing the best lunch every day—
Hey, Mom, this is for you.