Archive | April, 2016

Old Bits and Thoughts (A poem of remembering)

29 Apr


I remember Billy Searles jumping up to kiss me on the cheek

Because I was so much taller than he was.

It was out on the playground.

It was my first kiss; full of embarrassed pleasure.


I remember hating family drives every Sunday in Connecticut.


I remember visiting Disneyland right after it opened;

It was Christmas. There was a magical swan carriage

Full of Dickensian-dressed carolers.


I remember swimming in Waikiki with a smashed finger

That I had to hold

Up over my head

Out of the turquoise water.


I remember Harriet Hohmeyer and I

In the woods between our houses

Taking turns jumping off the weathered teeter-totter to

Send the other one crashing down.


I remember that my sister bit her nails down to the quick;

Everyone said she was nervous.


I remember dragging unbelievably prehistoric-looking horseshoe crabs

Out of the water on Jones Beach, then letting them go back.

I remember Pooty hiding under my parent’s bed and

My dad using the curved handle of his umbrella to

Drag him out by his collar.

I remember wishing that Roy Rogers and Dale Evans were my parents.


I remember pedal-pushers and poodle skirts and white bucks

And pin curls and saddle shoes and black flats.

I remember holding hands with Steve “Lyle-style”.

I remember happy, prickly butterflies inside me.

I remember the smell of Steve’s white shirt when we

Slow-danced to Johnny Mathis downstairs in the rec room after

Everyone else was asleep.


I remember my mother yelling at Jean when

She scorched her expensive green and white wool

Miramonte High School pep skirt,

And I remember that, even though I was the young one

Who was in trouble way more often, I said,

“Mommy, she didn’t mean to do it.”


I remember licking red candied apples till the crust was

Thin enough that I could crunch through it

For a cinnamon-sweet bite of apple.

My sister ate cotton candy, which I thought

Was yucky.


I remember watching my sister disappear into the fog, walking

Down Tacoma Avenue on her way to

Thousand Oaks Elementary School.

I remember asking my mother how soon I could go to school.

“When you are five.”

I remember thinking I was three and so

It would be infinity

Before I got to go with her.

April 29, 2016


Christmas (A poem written backwards)

28 Apr

He fell.
Only one precise shot.
Aim had been taken.
The wife had asked for goose.


Our Mother Nature (A poem of Haiku lines)

27 Apr


Winsome as the night, crawling through my berry patch tasting deepest black.
Lithe as water falls pouring over smooth-worn rocks, caressing my face.
Impeccable as pebbles rolling on the beach. chattering softly.
Subtle with power, Mother Nature offers me a feast of senses.

Just a Nod (A call and response poem)

26 Apr


In front of the group, she assumed I’d read Kant;
I knowingly nodded my head.
He mentioned Ronsard, that poet of France;
I knowingly nodded my head.
Our group spoke of Gaddy, a master of blues;
I knowingly nodded my head.
Trotsky and Lenin, Guevara and Marx;
I knowingly nodded my head.
Kierkegaard, Voltaire, Heliodorus, and Barth;
I knowingly nodded my head.
There’re places and times, I’m embarrassed to say;
I’ve knowingly nodded my head.
It’s not quite a lie…well, maybe it is,
When I’ve knowingly nodded my head.
But sometimes it’s easiest just to agree,
So I’ve knowingly nodded my head.
Please admit to this n0w, and all do it with me:
We’re all knowingly nodding our heads.

What Light! (begun with a stolen line)

25 Apr


What light through yonder window breaks?
This window now lies broken!
I do not know which road to take
Now that my window’s open.

I’m free to flee, explore the world,
This jail no longer holds me.
A million thoughts now dance and swirl;
No jailer can control me!

I could go left; I could go right;
I could fly up or down,
Or maybe I should just sit tight…
My visage holds a frown.

I’ve never had to face a choice
So open or so varied.
The world has never heard my voice;
I’ve been so safely married.

Perhaps this all is just too much;
I shall not take the chance.
I think I’ll nail the window shut;
I will not choose to dance.

The Universe is far too vast;
I fear to be adrift.
I’ll crawl back to my comfy past,
Recline my chair and sit.

I beg you not to chastise me
Or judge my choice unkindly.
Forgive a coward’s fear to flee,
I have not chosen blindly.

Domestic Stewardship (A poetic union of the sublime and the mundane)

24 Apr


Crepuscular orange sunlight
Streams through my
Dirty windows,
Exposing ubiquitous dust mites.
Ephemeral as used dental floss,
Incandescent as track lighting,
They circumnavigate my
Smelly sneakers,
Passing dirty socks
On their anitpenultimate journey,
An evangelical mission
Reminding me to vacuum my
Disheveled tenement and thus
Eradicate uncleanliness.
I must foreswear unproductive
Anaerobic exertion to
Embrace perpetual housework.
A vision of domestic stewardship!

Challenge (A sonnet)

24 Apr

th[7]A sonnet? Do I have the wit to write
A poem with its rhythm and its rhyme
So ironclad that some may think it trite,
Or think it only for another time?

Tho’ Will, the bard, was fluent in this verse,
With honeyed speech and velvet-coated words,
I fear that what I write is surely worse
And will not flow nor strike melodious chords.

The glove has slapped; the challenge has been made.
I dare not trace a coward’s path away.
I will not let my reputation fade;
Retreat is not an option for this day.

So now, with bated breath I lift my pen,
And pray, dear muse, return to me again!