Posts Tagged ‘free verse’

I quietly opened the door and slowly peeked inside. Squinting through the narrow opened crevice, I could see a smoking cigarette, half eaten sandwich and cat licking an unwrapped bar of butter. The side of an Ice tea glass was still wet with dripping condensing cool ice cube chill. He had made a quick escape. Good, I would have the house to myself.

OC

 

 

In a Texas clinic hallway, an OBGYN doctor was heard saying, ” I finally discovered her problem! She has a Texan AND a Supreme Court Justice up her Uterus!!”.

Texas, again you are not making any sense. Telling people that asking you to wear a mask is stepping on your liberty but a total stranger, in another state, with no contact at all with a Texas woman, can bounty hunt her Texas vagina for $10,000? What kind of lawmakers do you have down there? Just askin’ ? They may be more backward than I ever thought. I’m from another state and normally I would not comment about what they do down there, but I guess they have now opened the door.

I love ya, but man!

E.

 

 

To A Man

Posted: August 18, 2021 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, politics, writing
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To A Man

I have always wanted to run after life eagerly
But at this time in my life I am at peace.
Accepting the circumstances of my chance
and the results of my best laid plans.
Plans of best intentions, done with the most skillful of execution
but ending with questionable final outcome.
Gang aft agley *
I am now more fond of watching order from chaos.
After all, the entire Universe was built from it.
Of the largest galaxy to the least of the nests of a shivering mouse.
Both occasionally going awry
And both still doing quite well.
But I, Man, doomed with the ability of foreseeing
the billiard ball’s ricochet
Doing no better

Such is the life of John

  • Gang aft agley – From Robert Burn’s “To A Mouse

Food of Life

Posted: August 4, 2021 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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Here is one from 5 years ago. Perhaps means more now than then.

Food of Life

Here’s to you, sweet food of life
the struggle, the pain, the strife
blood fights won, blood fights lost
Rising from knees, at any cost
Here’s to you, you son of a bitch
One arm behind, rope’s half hitch
As hard as you tried, to tie the knot
you’re not as tough, as once thought
Thrown brown bottles and broken glass
I’ve dodged your throw and kicked your ass

OC

I would describe it as gnarly. It has been split by ice, dried by drought and trimmed cruelly by storm winds. It sheds not only leaves in the summer and fall but branches and long dry sticks during the winter. Squarely sawed stubs of once strong branches protrude from its trunk. The wounds were undeserved and now are only slightly healed with a green rounded rim. The constant and predominate southern winds have trained our willow’s branches to spread reaching northward, permanently posed in a windswept profile even on the few calm days of summer. But despite its rough life, its trunk grows thicker and it gains a few feet of height each year.

The globe willow, even growing untended in the wild, is a most beautiful tree. As its name implies, its branches will naturally form a very rounded shape as if from a Grant Wood painting. That is what drew my first attention. It has rough thick bark and in its mature form casts a very thick cool shadow. But the species is known for its poor disease and insect resistance, which I found out only after choosing to plant it. My tree chose to ignore the rounded branches shape genetic characteristics, instead grows weak branches and retained its poor health reputation. It has survived many doses of insecticides and antibacterial sprays. Until now, I was unaware that a tree could unwind its own DNA helix.

Today I read of the Oriental bonsai tree. As I write this I realize that I may now better understand my 18 year old globe willow. The bonsai trees are grown in a small pot or tray. Through careful pruning and training, the tree is caused to flourish in a stunted growth state. Wire is used to bind the branches and trunks to force it to grow in whatever way the “gardener” prefers. They are an amazing and beautiful addition to a home. Imagine having a whispering pine tree growing in your home that is smaller than the average table lamp. But there is something more intangible and harder to explain about these miniature trees. Growing a bonsai requires a meditative state and the cutting and pruning should be approached with a Zen-like state of mind. It is all about harmony, peace and balance. Only with harmony between nature, man and soul will the tree flourish.

But I’ve read that most of the bonsai tree inter-meaning and Zen has been lost to the general public in the last few years. Westerners look at this tree as only decoration and added atmosphere to their homes. The trees are losing popularity because the Zen is lost. Maybe this too for my globe willow.

Oh it started off in Zen, I planted my little globe willow exactly on my birthday just 18 years ago. How much closer to harmony between nature, man and soul can you get. With the help of two steel posts, wire and rubber hose to cushion the bark, I braced my new tiny 2 inch in diameter tree so it would remain straight for its first couple of formative years until it was strong enough to stand against the wind on its own. But I didn’t think of meditating about it either before or after. Just a few years later when aphids invaded, as I sprayed the insecticidal soap, gently washing each branch and leaf, no prayers, meditation or aaahummmms were uttered. The tree grew at the mercy of the winds, being pruned violently during each storm. Not the required Zen-like state of mind to promote flourished growth, but admittedly done with a closeness to nature. The wire of the wind has formed it branches to lean and flow northward instead of the familiar globe shape of its brothers. No thought was given this, the gradual change was hardly noticed.

With all of this, the tree lives on, though gnarly, leaning, battle scarred and robbed of its intended form and handsomeness. It is still able to cast a cool shade, protect my home by breaking the wind and ice and growing steadfastly adding character to our yard. Perhaps there has been a speechless connection with man all along. The two share the same traits, the same scars, the same stubbornness for life. Perhaps a cosmic connection was made at the time of the first turn of the spade to prepare for its planting. Much like the man that shares its birthday it grows old. Perhaps there has been a harmony between nature, man and soul and both have flourished from it, although awkwardly, surviving and growing despite the forces. Bonsai, the western world’s largest bonsai may be growing in my front yard.

I’ll leave it to you to decide if that’s a Zen thing.

DSS

Again we are told Where.
The invisible where.
Searching for the mystic chords of memory
we were told binds us to the graves
of the brave, young and the innocent.
These thin chords made only of the light strings
of loud sounds and trailing smoke.
So easily absorbed, so quickly dispersed among the mist.
Chords so soon broken and forgotten.
Nothing done.
And still not touched
by the better angels of our nature.

E.

  • Italics – Phrases by Abe Lincoln from 150 years ago

E wrote this quite a few years ago, I forget which crazy unimaginable event inspired it then. But this last week brought it to the front again. I love quoted short phrases of Lincoln. He said so many words that need repeating over and over. “Better angels of our nature” is quoted often by historians. “mystic chords of memory” is just too beautiful to let stagnate. The amazing thing is that they both were extracted from Lincoln’s inaugural address. His speeches and letters just hypnotize me and only got better into his presidency. Although this inaugural speech was placating to the South, many of his words were inspirational.

Lincoln’s inaugural address was given as our nation was going into civil war. It would do all of us good to again read more of his other speeches. After what we all have stood by in shock and witnessed January 6th and what may happen in coming days, the inspiration of his words will be needed. His words of placating that day did not stop the civil war but Maybe if his other words were repeated enough, maybe if they are read just one more time, this madness will be stopped.

John

Life is a whim of several billion cells to be you for a while.  ~Author Unknown

To that quote I add this.

Several Billion Cells

As my cells group to make me who I am each day
I feed them, give them air, water, shelter and transportation
I am the vehicle for the DNA to satisfy their sexual urge to survive
I think I am in control
but really I am cursed to be at the whim of billions of cells.
And I think I am only as one, an island
As I care for my army of cells each day
I ignore their multitude and only think of me not we
I think I am coordinating my efforts
but I am only the result of their needs
Is it for my sanity or the need of the whole
that they allow me to think I have a soul?
Is that the false hope, the vapor that holds me together?

DSS

Appointments

Posted: October 17, 2020 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry
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The town has a well-groomed courthouse square
surrounded by uneven red brick streets.
Like most towns, 24 times a day,
the bell tower clock strikes the hour and old men check their watches,
As if they have places to go and appointments to keep.
But they sit on the green donated park benches
that have names engraved in brass.
They watch the fall leaves fall
and sit to feel the fall breeze against their faces.
Some whittle, some stuff their tobacco pipes
and some spit into throwaway cups.
And everyone knows the name of the town dog
that runs free, unchained but friendly,
that searches with wildly wagging tail,
sniffing at pant legs, pockets and shopping bags,
As the fall leaves burn and the smoke rises
And the old men only sit and whittle,
smoking their pipes and spitting into throwaway cups.
Nervously checking on appointments
that they have never made but they all will surely keep.

DSS

DSS wrote this in September 2013, there may be a couple of people who haven’t read it yet.


 

E-closed

Posted: November 17, 2019 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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Here is one I wrote 4 years ago that I stumbled over while looking for something short but sweet. It is certainly short.

Closed

With no words that come to mind
no feelings, thoughts or voice.
In silence sit with tightened lips
stare glazed by watered eyes.

No songs are sung or poems read
all books are shelved and closed
Within the thoughts of all closed minds
lies dead a spoiled rose.

DSS

Meds Please

Posted: July 6, 2019 in creative writing
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The other day, yesterday, or was it a couple of days before? I woke up and could not move my right leg. I had a terribly sharp  pain down the side of it. I was howling, I admit it, howling. My pain threshold is like that of a two week old kitten. Very low. I’m crying for mommy at the first twinging.

As I was limping around feeling sorry for myself,  I received a call from my doctor’s nurse, I call her Nurse Ratchet. She is the Fastest needle shover on the planet. She had finally received the results of my gallbladder test of Tuesday. In medical terms she said,  “It ain’t workin’ “. Nurse Ratchet always gets right to the point. She told me it has to be removed. She told me to do two things, 1) report to the surgeon’s office at 10:00 AM next Tuesday and 2) don’t try to remove it myself. She knows me well and knows that I’m a DIY kind of guy. She knows that I will try anything to get out of going to a doctor’s office.

Even though there is probably a YouTube on the subject out there some place to guide me through the procedure, I think  I will wait and first see what my Surgeon’s options are on Tuesday.

Such is the life of John

Oh, the leg, I still have it, maybe when I crawl into his office to see him Tuesday, he’ll have some suggestions…..meow….