Posted: March 9, 2014 in free verse, poetry
Never the list of favored people
never chosen festival king
invisible to the magnanimous people
Never given the cities’ keys
Thought to be the least outgoing
not one to shake a stranger’s hand
all consumed in life’s own toils
The unknown renaissance man
Man of books of untapped knowledge
Grand ideas never sought or asked
Verses dreamed, rhymed and written
words never spoken or quietly read
He paints his image in oil on canvas
Molds his face in sculptor’s clay
Hopes some day to be remembered
And his ashes cast some day.
Posted: March 6, 2014 in Everyday Life, free verse
My head turns to thoughts of the Moon
The Full, the Crescent, the New
I think of the Moon’s oblong Tide that rolls across our planet
Not stopping at the ocean’s edge but continuing across plains, mountains and Man.
Tugging on water, granite and skull as it makes its way around Earth captured paths.
Raising and lowering
Stretching and shrinking
Day in and day out
Performing a constant celestial massage on all things of this world.
Forming and changing shores, mountains and minds.
Bringing spring tides or slack waters
Posted: March 4, 2014 in Everyday Life, free verse
How do we measure a person?
Do we use a scale and yardstick
Do we use the clothes that they wear
The cowboy hat , the cowboy boots
The hard hat and the steel toed boots
Are they a want-a-be or do they climb from their clothes
after a hard day’s work
Do they push the weak or the serious?
Do they discount what they see and just accept
How do we measure a person?
Why do we measure a person?
Do we add the length or speed of their car to their height
Does their knowledge add or subtract from their weight
Does their height or their weight subtract from their knowledge
How do we know without knowing them
Who says we want to know them
Who says we need to know them
Does it take a yardstick to measure shallow water
Does it take a lot of knowledge to measure a shallow sole.
We are still 1 or 2 days short of a month by my count. I wish I could fully understand leap year and short February’s. But I think the earth revolves around the sun in 365.25 days. So every four years we have to put another day in our calendar. Yes it’s true, our earth takes just a little more than a year to get around the sun, our great celestial clock runs slow.
If we bought a watch that ran in the vicinity of 30 minutes a month slow we would take it and the receipt back to the discount store and ask for a refund. But I’m not quite ready to ask for a refund. The real question is “What are we going to do with the next 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes and 12 seconds?”
I know a few people who were born on February 29th and I listen as they bemoan their birthday plight. Each year I think the same thought… “Just be glad you weren’t born on February 30th or the 31st, you would never have a birthday”!
Have a great year, but slow down, relax, it lasts longer than you think. Today do something that takes just a little longer to do, like golf, chess or a game of Monopoly.
I was told by my friend Carl about the Sleepyman
The long legged Sleepyman, 2 AM slumber preacher
Wide awake provider of the thousands of fence jumping sheep
Planter of sequential thought patterns and soother of unpleasant dreams
He works nights, the 11 to 7 shift
When we feel the urge to toss and turn he’s the guy prodding us
He’s where the blankets and sheets go when we feel too hot or cold
The guy that messes up our hair and imprints wrinkles in our face
He laughs as he works but not too loud.
The Sleepyman, Shhhh! I think I see his shadow.
Ever have a fly land in your bowl of cereal?
The damn thing floats
Paddles his little feet around
scrubbing his back
flippin’ his wings, actin’ a fool
having a hell of a good time
No idea that he may sink
He doesn’t care that he’s drowning
he is in the land of milk and honey nuts
The little bastard would be cute if he wasn’t ruining my mid-night knack
Here! get yourself out of there!
Hop on this spoon.
You little widget!
Posted: February 22, 2014 in free verse, poetry
On this month of Valentines and Presidents
Waxed snow skis and sleds and polished blades,
Men and women with clear rose cheeks
take gasps of sharp cold air and fogging breaths.
Racing on frozen lanes cut by flexing smooth legs
and taut chiseled thighs.
Beneath the soft stretched fabrics
are the hard bodies of youth’s firm human frame,
Judged by fast changing clocks
and watchers and lovers of perfect style and form.
They win or lose by hundredths of seconds
or fractions of subjective points.
On podiums they bow their heads with broad white smiles and joyful tears
To begin wearing metals as heavy as the egos of their national anthems.
And to be known forever as having the heart of an Olympian.