Category Archives: Poetry

Remembering Love

You won’t remember this.

Sitting on my lap and laughing at
something only you understand,
your hands come up to my face as you
bounce up and down on my lap and then
gently lay your head on my aging chest.

You won’t remember how that made me feel.

I tell you that I love you, that you’re
precious and funny and smart and
one day when you grow up you’re
going to hold someone in your arms
the way I’m holding you in this moment.

But you won’t remember my words.

You’re just nine months old but your eyes
can tell a story with only the sound of a smile,
and when you fall asleep nestled against me,
life rewinds to another time and place
that others whom I held will also not remember.

Time doesn’t exist in moments like this.

So I’ll hold you quietly against me until you wake,
until they tell me it’s time for you to go,
and you’re lifted away, watching your arms reach
out to me again so that our fingers touch for the
briefest of moments in an instant embrace.

You won’t remember the day that two women separated by
ninety years held each other and laughed.

And sadly, as day turns into night,

neither will I.

 

 

 

 

 

Anniversary Re-Blog (Riding Shotgun)

Sometimes I enjoy playing around with children’s poetry…:)

Riding Shotgun

I live inside a turtle shell,
where no one bothers me.
I spend the days in perfect haze,
just dreaming lazily.
I slowly move from place to place,
I’m in no rush to find,
what I don’t know or can’t explain,
for that I don’t have time.
My Buddy is a snapper,
I chose him carefully,
if you don’t want a part of him,
you’ll want no part of me.
We hang around the marshy ponds,
with weeds and mud galore.
I never have to shower once,
now who can ask for more?
Sometimes my Buddy comes inside,
and spends some time with me,
he listens while I talk with him,
he’s real good company.
I live inside a turtle shell,
where no one bothers me.
I spend my time in perfect rhyme,
Why not? I’m only three!

Anniversary Re-Blog (Sometimes We Need A LIttle Nonsense)

I couldn’t try to explain this one if i tried. Not sure where it came from..:)

Finding Waliforms

The flagon fills my senses
with nashiness, like a
bad pootie tam on a
boiled florentine nib.

It ain’t easy being
a bathroom stall. One might
be encouraged to believe
the sight lines reflect a
positive expose’ of
fresh fleshiness.

But the flesh ain’t fresh and
it’s positively not reflected
in the langoine oasis of
meringue buliciousness.

Words find their way to
my waliforms. Vulgar words.
Words that harass the membranes
of warbled tooties.

Designs of phlox drudgeries
escape from the artistic dreameries
and elope into colorful mutations
that party dress my outer being.

I’m violated in the most obensilly
numbness and no one cares. They clean
around my waliforms, freshen the airiness
with smelts of crumagen, modify the
foot foundations and humify the
prestoleum foils of zumber.

But they ignore me. My
scars, my defects. My war paint
remains for each new visitor
to transcript the imaginable.

It’s a bathroom stall. So please,
next time you visit, have a little
composition for my flecticide. If not,
you can take your prendaballs and
send them up your assimulations.

Anniversary Re-Blog (Respectfully Yours)

What can I say..:)

Respectfully Yours

Being an upscale one-eyed fiber nut is
not easy. Sitting in a see through
bag for months watching as people
pass you by or fondle you before tossing
you back into the crowd is degrading.
It makes a well respected nutritional
snack like me feel cheap. I’m not some
chintzy peanut that gets grabbed in handfuls
and thrown back into someone’s beer
infested mouth. I’m a pistachio. I got
class. One ounce of me and you get as much
potassium as half a large banana, a “delicate”
fruit that gets black and brown and soft
in a few days. Weakness isn’t part of my
package. My veins aren’t flowing with
saturated fats. I’m prime monounsaturated.
Tell that to your cholesterol hungry pals.
I got more fiber than broccoli or spinach so
where’s my five servings a day billboard
from the medical community. I’m especially
rich in phytosterol. You don’t know what
that is because you don’t speak my language.
You’re too hung up on peanut butter or
black beans. But I have more B-6 in a one ounce
serving than three ounces of those lightweights.
Still not convinced?
Then let me speak in sexual terms. That always
seems to be an attention grabber. I’m not your
typical easy nut. You can’t just grab me and
have your way. You first need to get
past the shell I put up around me. It’s a
process I call foreplay. It’s been used
by others in more vulgar ways, but I created it.
So now you know. I don’t come cheaply and
I don’t compromise. I expect some respect.
Treat me well and I will stimulate the growth
of your body’s cells and tissues. Enough
sex talk for now. I don’t want you to get the
wrong impression. If you don’t want me for
what’s inside, then you’re just a shallow individual
who doesn’t understand nutritional worth. If that’s
the case, then let’s just end this now. I’m looking for
a lasting relationship. I don’t have time for
one night stands.

Anniversary Re-Blog (Dancing In Graveyards)

Sometimes the mind of a child surprises us, in the most unusual places, at the strangest times. If we just listen….

Dancing In Graveyards

I shouldn’t dance in graveyards,
they say.
Shouldn’t laugh or play music or
whistle songs we learnt in school.
Graveyard’s not for that kind of stuff,
they say.
I shouldn’t play games on people’s graves.
Disrespectful to those who came before,
they say.
I used to ask who those were and what
before meant. But they just stared at me.
So I stopped.

People stare when they don’t have answers.

People talk in graveyards, sometimes even cry.
No one ever talks back, least not that I heard.
But they keep talking anyway.
And staring.
Mommy plants flowers in the graveyard,
just like in our backyard.
Said Daddy always liked daisies best.
But Daddy liked to dance, too,
and laugh,
and play music.
Maybe Mommy won’t stare and cry so much,
if we do what we did when we laughed.

Before Daddy went to war.

So I asked Mommy and she said next time
we can sing a song.
One I learnt in school.
One Daddy hadn’t heard yet.
She cried when she told me
but that’s okay.
Sometimes Daddy used to cry when we danced.
Sometimes people cry when they’re happy.

Sometimes even when they’re
dancing in graveyards.

Anniversary Re-Blog (Elvis Has Never Really Left The Building)

As part of my one year blogging anniversary, I thought I’d repeat some of my favorite posts from this past year, mainly the early ones, when the only people who read them were family members I threatened and strangers I paid. Just kidding, for anyone who takes my comments too seriously.
Anyway, I wrote this a while ago and had fun trying to incorporate his song titles into a poem that made sense.

    Elvis Has Never Really Left The Building

Big plans, they told me
unparalleled popularity.
Already had that, but I
needed to get away, I was
All Shook Up, tired of
Suspicious Minds, and
that damn Hard Headed Woman.
Thirty years of hiding in
one Heartbreak Hotel after another.
For what?
Got money now but
too rich to come out,
too poor to die.
And so,
One Night I asked myself,
Are You Lonesome Tonight?
Is this,
Too Much?
I miss my old
Hound Dog, my
Teddy Bear, my
Good Luck Charm.
Once in a while they bring me a
Big Hunk of Love, but
She’s Not You, I
don’t get that,
Burning Love from them, I’m
Stuck On You, I
Need Your Love Tonight, miss the
Wonder of You, I
Can’t Help Falling In Love with my
Bossa Nova Baby, been
Crying In The Chapel, and I
Feel So Bad, just want to
Surrender, and I know
A Fool Such As I, isn’t worthy of
Loving You, but
I Want You, I Need You, I Love You.
So,
Love Me,
Love Me Tender.
Don’t be,
The Devil In Disguise.
I Beg Of You,
Don’t Be Cruel.
Wear My Ring Around Your Neck, I’m
here, I’m
alive,
hiding, In The Ghetto,
so, please,
please,
it’s Now or Never.

Springsteen Sunday (Vol.15, Out In The Street)

Song: Out In The Street
Album: The River

Welcome back to the pulpit of Springsteen.

This week is purely fun and one of those songs that I look forward to at his concerts, mainly because the entire crowd sings and the party mood kicks into high gear. images-2

The fact that this song is off The River album which has a range of emotions and carries the listener to all sort of places makes it all the more fun.

images-1

The lyrics are simple by Springsteen standards but like other other songs, he seems to celebrate the second half of people’s lives; those hours that happen after work, when we have the freedom to enjoy our lives in different ways.

Put on your best dress baby
And darlin’, fix your hair up right
Cause there’s a party, honey
Way down beneath the neon lights
All day you’ve been working that hard line
Now tonight you’re gonna have a good time

I work five days a week girl
Loading crates down on the dock
I take my hard earned money
And meet my girl down on the block
And Monday when the foreman calls time
I’ve already got Friday on my mind

When that whistle blows
Girl, I’m down the street
I’m home, I’m out of my work clothes
When I’m out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When I’m out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When I’m out in the street
When I’m out in the street

When I’m out in the street, girl
Well, I never feel alone
When I’m out in the street, girl
In the crowd I feel at home
The black and whites they cruise by
And they watch us from the corner of their eye

But there ain’t no doubt, girl, down here
We ain’t gonna take what they’re handing out
When I’m out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When I’m out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
Baby, out in the street I don’t feel sad or blue
Baby, out in the street I’ll be waiting for you

When the whistle blows
Girl, I’m down the street
I’m home, I’m out of my work clothes
When I’m out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When I’m out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk

When I’m out in the street
Pretty girls, they’re all passing by
When I’m out in the street
From the corner, we give them the eye

Baby, out in the street I just feel all right
Meet me out in the street, little girl, tonight
Meet me out in the street
Meet me out in the street

images

This clip is from a New York City concert, which is about as close to playing in his home state as you can get and that’s reflected in the enthusiasm of the crowd. So enjoy one of my favorite concert numbers.

See you down the road.