Blog Archives

Life’s Not as Easy as a Cajun Dance

Einaudi lingers on the stereo
As burnt chicken wafts thru the door
Happiness takes its turn to go
The reason why matters not any more
I’d give anything for one more chance
But life’s not as easy as a Cajun dance
Tomorrow will be a lesser day
Twas oft told to watch what you say

The cat wants to so go outside
As paltry aromas scale thru a crack
Nuances are things I could never abide
And now she is another you’ll never get back
I’d give anything for just one more walk
But life’s much more than marbles and chalk
Dawn comes so early in the day
The sooner you’ll be off one might say

The keyboard rings out its golden tune
Time to drain a merlot glass quick
Bedtime approaches too ready and ever soon
Cat calls his return with condescension thick
Lonely and longing lie buried deep and strong
Life’s losses are worse when you know you’re wrong
Tomorrow will be another lesser day
A fresh curtain for any farce or threadbare play

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The Queen’s Annual High Tea

Sally Gossamer Wingstep Met Marcus V. Featherstone
Attending the Queen’s Annual High Tea
The danced and talked and walked together
In the warm manner of increasing complementarity
A touch of highlight crimson rose
Colouring the tips of Sally’s forewings
Soon she found she had forgotten
To share the gist of many amazing things
Marcus managed to hide his stammer
Girls! Curiously an ever-haunting mystery
Together they had soon discovered
A sharing in fairiekynd’s land and winged history
The Queen rose, oh so soon!
The High Tea was now at its end
Sally and Marcus bade the other their adieus
Dwelling in the warmth that such a meeting did attend
Oh yes, sleep would elude them
A shared dream now a waking reality
But where to end this little story
Of a love lacking in any signs of finality
Would you grant this poet reprieve for this his crime:
Who makes his adieu abandoning you with there’ll be more in time?

I’m Here

The Sun fell down the usual way:
Gold to pink to black.
The end of another tawny Spring day,
And no, they’re not coming back.

Too many deaths on Hall 5:
Cancer, Dementia, and Heart Attack;
Old and young lives fading away;
Don’t care our hospice census is on track.

The Moon creeped out its old way:
Half to gibbous on passing high;
Poor professionals lacking an out to pray—
Is it really okay for the licensed to cry?

Tomorrow returns the Sun in bust:
Azure to pink to hot white.
Not only families ache when loved ones return to dust.
Come, sit, and let’s talk a mite….