Sunday, January 30, 2011
My mother was a minister’s wife,
Until dad turned his life to science.
She tried for years to keep her faith,
As he turned from Jesus in defiance.
Mom decided after seventy years,
To rattle her ancestor’s bones…
She proclaimed religion was a tool,
Then subscribed to Mother Jones.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
The nearest I’ve been to heaven,
Was atop my Black Walnut Tree;
I could see over the neighbor’s rooftops,
Climbing upwards and on, to infinity.
The gentle Delta breezes swayed,
I soared in the limbs like a bird.
There are noises in the treetops,
Most humans have never heard.
My every secret, told to the sky,
My dreams, post-marked by the wind.
Paradise to this twelve-year-old,
Was a world forever, without end.
Sadly then, my universe,
Was envisioned by a fool…
The tree sawed down in ‘65
Making way for our swimming pool.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Did we not see in one another
Our traits being such a draw,
That repeated exposure to them,
Would in no time rub us raw?
Everything we found exciting;
Love’s triggers on our first date…
Became all the little irritants,
That festered into hate.
Now both of us have found new loves,
Repeating our old diaries and logs…
As we fell again for the same traits,
In each of our new pet dogs.
(Author's note: Otis is protesting
the fact that I am not politically correct.
I cannot insinuate that I have
ownership of him, he is NOT a pet OR
a dog. Now maybe I can get some sleep tonight.)
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Otis is the Easter Egg under the water bottle.
Now and then life throws you,
An incredibly perfect day…
A few hours of pure magic,
Every good vibe goes your way.
Spontaneous text messages,
Drew us together for pure fun,
Reminding us that life is,
A celebration with everyone.
Now and then you realize,
Life threw you a perfect year...
Though change renders us helpless;
The good memories keep me here.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Years ago I met a clothier,
Wearing a pinstriped suit and vest;
“If it is not an English import,.
You are NOT wearing the best”!
He sold me Hickey-Freeman suits,
Branching out to Yves St. Laurent…
My everyday shirts, labeled I Zod;
My look, so au’currant.
I moved into the foothills,
Packing away my suit and vest…
Later finding Yves St. Laurent,
A designer’s posh rat’s nest.
I still can hear my stylist say…
“True fashion is about the cloth”.
My Hickey-Freeman suit is ruined,
Destroyed by a hungry wool moth.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
I never was a law breaker,
In fact I shied away from sin…
Though once in a while temptation,
Broke out in new towns I was in.
Behind a Nevada Casino,
No one around to make a fuss…
I wrote my name in the diesel soot,
On Miss Loretta Lynn’s bus.
We’ve both traveled many miles,
I left Tahoe, she fled Van Lear,
My name etched upon her ride,
Her music, in my heart ‘n ear.