The Fear is Here

Yesterday the house flies flew
Toward window sills joining their dead…
Weather dropped thirty degrees,
Signaling bad winter days ahead.

Today, the first of the big freeze,
Felled last apples to the ground,
As if all noise is silenced,
Tree branches fall without a sound.

Life is a Relay

I still picture friends and lovers,
The way I saw them last…
Only to reconnect on Facebook,
Realizing many a decade’s passed.

I no longer recognize the actors
Or singers on any awards show…
It seems my inspirations faded;
All my heroes passed on long ago.

Young people on the new track,
Are living like I used to be…
Catching me at the finish line;
It’s time I handed them the key.

The Lure of Green

My Mother fled Montana during
The worst drought they’d ever seen…
Settling down in Washington State,
Her new favorite color was green.

She painted all their furniture,
To match the curtains, now dyed green…
The towels, blankets, table clothes,
All shared the same green theme.

Years later when she had money,
She bought her wall to wall rug dream…
Covering every floor in the house,
In the most hideous Kelly Green.

Fast forward thirty years to now,
I live with remnants of her dream…
Two throw rugs wrap around my bed,
Cut from her carpet’s seam.

One of my life’s big mysteries
Is to understand the lure of green…
Whatever possessed my dog last night,
To eat a bar of Irish Spring?

He vomited the whole night long,
Green bile coughed up on everything…
All the little chunks of soap...
The only things that ever matched,
Those ugly rugs of putrid, Kelly Green.

Second Thoughts

I almost sent a letter last night,
Then suddenly changed my mind…
The next day I was saner,
My soul infinitely more kind.

Gratefully, I’d hurt no one,
Status quos the same or better…
Though deep inside this tortured soul,
I wish I’d sent the letter.

Silver Winter

Greens, yellows, oranges and reds,
Have disappeared, along with the sun…
Winds have dispatched all colors,
The island’s winter has begun.

Rabbits, calm, red apples and boats,
Have disappeared in the cold…
Memories wrote on used envelopes,
Lost now inside the fold.

Heaven

If by chance there is a heaven,
To revisit where I’ve been,
Otis is the one true few friend,
I would want to see again.

There are seven existing stanzas of this poem, but why bother. I said it all in the first four lines.

Nirvana Lost

The plump nipples of Nirvana,
Were laid bare and suckled dry…
Breasts of dreams have shriveled,
The weaned no longer try.

Thriving now on solid foods,
Nourished on avarice and luck,
We children of the sixties,
Almost evolved, but we still suck