May 21, 2011

Writer’s Lament

I am not clever. I am clever.
I am not clever.

May 21, 2011

This thing I wear
my body can i
embrace it?
I could in youth
but now the worn
garment is tiresome
hitches & barks
has less spark
than i do.

Come back from the grave
tell us
when do we get old?
I don’t think we do.
It’s just this raggedy

May 18, 2011

Natural Agenda

Sunny days are for airing out the linens and
rain is for reading
Snow is for lighting a fire
and wind is for changing your mind

In a tornado you lose all your belongings
This can also happen in a hurricane
In a blizzard you lose electricity

I’ve never lived in a desert
but a sandstorm is for new horizons
and hail is for comedy

May 18, 2011 poem

Gobs of thick moisture weigh on the lilacs, olives and bridal veil
so that their branches hang deeply down nearly touching the earth
and the blossoms that supremely scented and colored our days
are tarnished with browning edges, and damply coat the pavement
and cover the puddles with their once dazzling hues.

Horizontal now, the petals, flat and wet, not yet rotten with saturation
still hold on to their pigment. Now the ground becomes illuminate
with cherry, apple and lilac blossoms and the small green seeds of maples.

May14, 2011

Seasonal Poem

I have nothing to say
and a lot to do
and all my saying is
transformed into doing

Saying is for winter
doing is for spring


It is July. But you know that.

I write with a pencil in a notebook.

Here are some poems I neglected  to post.

May 3


In the courtroom, we are all represented.
No one is innocent.
Some of us arrive with perfect hair
and some have scabs showing through
the thin hair of our heads.
We are young and old and in between.
It is our luck that we are here,
as everywhere.
Perhaps we pay a fine, or go to jail
or our case is dropped.
There is procedure, and
we follow it, or not.
Each one a child before the judge
who sits up high; even the lawyers
must look up at her.

Sheepishly we approach,
it is so unfamiliar, and no one
instructs us; how do we do it right?
We must surmise our way.
The beautiful young woman
with the large earrings,
will she be released?
The man with shaved head,
will he be detained?
Whispering at the bench, the judge
looks over her glasses at the lawyer
competent, reserved; something
must be serious.

The courtroom gets quieter 
as we try to hear what it is all about.
Fast talking, requests for leniency,
bargaining, then lighthearted
laughing is permitted; it is just
some people’s job.
Not all of us are guilty.
Many  jittery knees and feet.

May 3

April is over.  I did not write 30 poems this April. Got pretty close though. Feedback suggests somebody’s reading. So I’ll continue to post my poetry.

Thanks for reading!

April 28

Jobs Wanted


Betty Taylor forgot me.
We had an appointment 2-5
Wednesday. The last time 
I was early and she was not 
ready. This time I arrived
two minutes late. Her car
was not in the driveway.
A white Mercedes SUV was
there instead, and a young
Latin man was raking in front.
I parked, took my yellow rubber
gloves and a bottle of water 
hoping to be wrong.

‘Is she home?’ I asked the boy.
‘No. Went grocery shopping.’
We talked until I figured out
where to find her; then I went there.
Annoyed, but Betty is 94.
I did not expect to see her
with someone. A helper! My rival!
A chubby Latin woman.
I reminded Betty who I was,
we had an appointment, 2-5.
‘Oh, I have you for thursday.’
she said. The helper was helping
Betty select canned beans
from the Goya section of foods.
It was her son who was raking.

April 27

driving home on rt 4 our
minivan laden with purchases
from costco, walmart, kmart
bj’s, rite aid, duane reade
cvs, dunkin donuts,
panera, the river swelled
and pushed the levees over
i didn’t know we had levees
and awash our dodge
caravan did go turning
round and round like
a mackeral in the surf
til all our goodies
flushed on ahead of us
being lighter and unable to swim
and we held on to sticks
and flotsam til rescued