Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Blog of the Day -- Wednesday March 22nd

Spring Break

No freshman
on the beach
bikini clad beach balls

No umbrella clad
mai tai's
sustence for late evening
indulgences

No college girls gone wild
baring what they have
hiding what they don't

No male hotties
strutting to the tune
tits and ass

I'm going to sleep
till noon
clean house
and eat
out!

Blogs of the days -- March 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

OMG, my plan to write a poem a day on this blog is faltering! Okay, so here they are, five poems (sigh). Count 'em down.

March 18th
we put away
no corned beef
we ate it

we threw away
cabbage
phew

we ate
cold carrots
for a late night snack

we fried
potatoes for breakfast
yum

St. Patrick's Day
escapes our culinary designs
for another
year


March 19th
Sunday
sleeps in
'neath mile-high
comforters
while rain sleet and snow
reigns

March 20th
Monday blues
Tuesday too's
Wednesday drowsy
Thursday pouty
Friday wake
Saturday break
Sunday muse for
Monday blues

March 21st
Spring Solstice

Balmy breeze
chase away the north wind
cajole waiting lillies
from their warm nests
tease feathery royals into birth
future plums of the summer
warm the laconic land
and bring
spring

March 22nd
Forty at dawn
forty-five mid-morning
fifty at noon
fifty-eight as the school bus
corners the street
sixty greens the roses
until
forty claims the night

Friday, March 17, 2006

BotD -- March 17th 2006

St. Patrick's Day.

You drove the snakes
out of Ireland?
Not!
You were an important
part of my life?
Right!

So stop
wait
you ignited people
your actions evoked myths
traveled to far off countries
settled with your countrymen
evolved
and came to mean for me
not just Corned Beef and Cabbage
or the wearin' of the green

because you
formed a connection
more than time
more than space
we are connected though
my belief
in you

Thursday, March 16, 2006

BotD -- March 14-15-16

March 16th
Who is packing your parachute? I got this forwarded e-mail, usually junk mail I delete, but for some reason I stopped and read the first few lines. They caught my interest, hence this blog. Charles Plumb, Navy pilot, shot down over Vietnam, POW for 6 years, sitting in a restaurant with his wife, up comes a man states that he knows him, he packed his parachute ... saved his life.

Okay, so what's the point? The lines that follow caught my interest, "Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day."

Yes, that's true. Those unappreciated, unidentified, someones who provide what we need to make it through the day. Whoever packed your lunch, gave you Tylenol for a headache, let you in traffic, cleaned the bathroom, washed your clothes, watched your kids, gave you a hug when you felt sad. Even more basic, those someones who milked the cows, cleaned the grocery store, picked the strawberries, climbed the telephone pole and restored your service, all of those someones.

So, the next time someone annoys you, remember, that person may have packed your parachute today. Say thanks instead.

invisible
unnoticed
unextraordinary
you

have done
visible
noticed
and extraordinary things
for me

thank you

March 15th
march
in las vegas
warming up
plum trees with blossoms
rose bushes
purple faces peep through
the thorns
as snowflakes
descend

March 14th
I want
turkey legs
I growl

Suddenly
small legs pump
rugs out of the way
arms thrown into
the air
screams punctuate the
action
as I growling
tickle feet
legs and faces

when you're three
everything tickles.

Monday, March 13, 2006

BofD -- March 12 and 13

Oops, I didn't post yesterday so here are two.

March 12th

simmering
just below the surface
it lives in smiles
a death's head grin
bubbles in rage
and then sinks to wait
again.

March13th

when did anger
become such a part
of my life
who I am
what I do
what I say

and when will it
stop

Saturday, March 11, 2006

BofD -- March 11, 2006

A poem a day -- I need a change of scenery.. external and internal.

The news gets worse every day, war, bombings, people dying, natural disasters. I almost hate to see what is new. And I suspect that marketing compels the media to make events sound more than what they are, more disastrous, more horrible, more whatever, to sell the news, to sell the sponsor's products, to sell sell sell.

So I'm reading about Emily Dickinson, the poetess from Amhurst, Mass. Her desire for solitude, her genius in writing poetry, her desire for privacy, and now we have to guess from what little remains who she was, why she was a recluse and what her poetry means. Not, have to; want to. So what does my poetry mean? What does anyone's poetry mean? By me.....

it snowed today
brief white flakes
drifting in solitary solumnity
exhaling in momentary freedom and youth
until individuality becomes anonyminity
falling onto street, car, tree, grass
and melting into
obscurity

Friday, March 10, 2006

BofD -- March 5, 2006

Barney Fife
where are you?
your wide smile
wider eyes
arms akimbo

Barney,
the Sheriff is looking
for you
his hair is white
his tall straight figure
bowed
and his eyes wet
with the tears
of your
departure

BotD -- March 6, 2006

Lois Lane
has gone
Superman departed
first
the smile slowly fading as
he returned to
his planet from whence
he arrived
young strong free

but Lois Lane
without Superman
fled the halls of Justice
sank weeping upon the frozen throne
and departed
while the spirit
of the American Way
wept

BotD -- March 8, 2006

I am working
sdrawkcab
in time
inexorably drawing
efil
out of myself
onto my
nep
until finally
deniard
time unnervingly
straped

BotD -- March 9, 2006

Post
post now
post
post right now
post

staring back
at me
the stodgy blog
demands
my heart soul blood

post post post post post
posit

oops

Blog of the Day -- March 10, 2006

A poem a day?

Restlessly
They scamper
Thought by thought
Skipping through
The recesses of my mind
Until weary of their
Playful taunts
They depart
And sleep
arrives

October in Vermont 2007

October in Vermont 2007