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Monday, December 30, 2013

Art & Raina III

What would people say,
what if they all knew,
Art loves Raina even more
than the day they said "I Do".

What would people say,
what would people do,
what would people think if they
knew she loves him too.

People might just talk and stare,
none would would wear a frown,
just laugh and smile to see them
spread their love all over town.

What if people knew,
what could people say,
watch love grow in Mad-town,
each and every day.

Friday, April 12, 2013


Sitting quietly in the den,
sipping my morning coffee,
deciding between poetry and
the L.A. Times crossword.
Suddenly a loud thump,
from the kitchen,
all too familiar.
It can only mean one thing:
a broken window or
a broken neck.
A quick dash and glance,
no shattered glass.
A slanted peek at the patio,
no broken bird.
No birds at all at the feeder.
Well, one, a cooper’s hawk,
a big one, smiling that smile
through its eyes.
Missed that one, it seems to say.
Next time.
Oh, and thanks for the feeders.
I’m always hungry.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Suffering (a Quinzaine)

two riffs on the same thought, the prompt being "suffering" and the form is Quinzaine : 7-5-3, statement-question-question, unrhymed.

Koan I

No doubt, life is suffering..
How does one respond?
Truth or dare?

Koan II

No doubt, life is a challenge.
How does one respond?
Play or hide? 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


Searching for a new home
will gain one many new friends.
The realtors beget the lenders,
who send the inspectors,
and they refer the fix-it guys.
Let’s not forget the movers,
the neighborhood handymen,
the HOA, PTA, Neighborhood Watch.
The Mormons and SDA’s
always seem to find us.
Here’s an idea – how about we
have them deliver the mail,
they knock on every door, anyhow.
Oops, gotta go,
Molly Maid just arrived.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

A Sevenling Poem

The sevenling has some interesting rules (some a little more abstract than others), but the basics involve writing a seven line poem comprised of two tercets and a final one-line stanza that kind of holds everything together, a punch line of sorts, or a narrative juxtaposition...Here's mine, today:

Feeding Time

There are four
bird feeders in our yard,
two seed, two humming.

There are many
types of customers for our largesse,
small, medium and large.

There is one very observant hawk.

Saturday, April 6, 2013


A long time married,
seemingly forever,
or at least, like swans,
mated for life,
they still argued, bickered,
even fought.
To her, the fight was
always about him.
To him, it was
always about money.
It wasn’t that they
loved each other less,
simply that they
found things not to like.
At such moments,
and the reason they
stayed married forever,
a particular type of
etiquette prevailed.
They could yell, talk back,
accuse even, but one rule
always carried the day:
no matter what,
no matter when,
no matter where,
it was okay to act crazy,
so long as both of them
were not
temporarily insane
at the same time.

Friday, April 5, 2013

From an old conversation with Will

It really was
a beautiful ring,
and it cost just
a little less
than I loved her,
and then they
added the tax.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Hold That...

Hold That Pose

for me, if you would,
it would be great if you could,
though I’m not as quick as I should
be, I just hoped you’d understood
that there’s a reason for it all,
why you can’t answer nature’s call,
just keep your focus on the wall,
the one leading to the hall,
that place with vase and one thin rose,
giving pleasure to the nose,
one way the muse in me still grows,
if you would simply hold that pose.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013


At a certain age,
it all becomes provisional,
the big things,
the small stuff,
everything contingent on
the time remaining,
a simple fact of life.
It is also true that,
no matter the years,
the many or the few,
we’re all just passing through,
temporarily positioned between
two eternities.
So what is one to do?
Perhaps boldly experiment with
one’s uncertain future,
not fretting about
tentative schedules,
tentative arrival times,
tentative deals,
tentative release dates,
or tentative rulings.
Maybe it is best to
not stew about outcomes,
not worry about unfixed uncertainties.
Better to be as feisty as
the 80-year old man,
a bearded hero who
buys a new hammock
and two saplings.
He doesn’t concern himself with
future change for today’s dollar.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Light & Dark

It has been a good day,
nothing too grand, nor magical,
simply a few hours of quiet enjoyment,
some idle conversation with friends,
cheered on by the crisp sunlight of early spring,
hands shielding eyes against the glare,
smelling the ocean in the thin clouds,
down here, close to the border with Mexico.

How hopeful the sounds of passersby,
baseball season upon them,
the dark days of busted brackets behind,
still a rosy outlook for the local heroes,
not yet time for clever analysis,
of what went wrong this time.
There’ll be time later for the reality of defeats,
their shadows eclipsing today’s bright sun.

The gloomy mornings of winter are gone now,
but summer still sleeps,
not quite ready for her big entrance.
This is spring, and she’s still young,
so, satisfied, we capture
bits of today’s breezy brilliance,
enlivened by the simple pleasure of it all,
grateful for this good day.

Monday, April 1, 2013


After a somewhat lengthy journey,
spanning his entire life, actually,
listening only to the sound of his feet,
he arrived at wisdom.
The next morning,
he arrived at it again

Thursday, February 14, 2013

2013 Valentine

Valentine 2013

She’s got cat power,
that one gal of mine,
and that’s just one reason
she’s my Valentine.
She’s got cheetah speed,
when it comes to what’s right.
If you’re thinking I love her,
you know I just might.
She’s got an elephant’s memory
after all of these years,
forty-two and counting,
most of them dears.
She’s got the mischief of monkeys
when it hits her, the mood,
her teasing’s outrageous,
her jokes mostly good.
She’s not tall, no giraffe,
more koala in size,
but height doesn’t matter,
she’s the light of my eyes.
How many more critters
do you think I can name?
They all make me happy,
that’s the core of this game.
They’re just like my Barbara,
helping me smile,
likely forever,
and that’s a long while.
If forever’s not possible,
well what can I say,
I’ll treasure each moment,
each delightful day.

2012 Valentine

Valentine, 2012

At 10 and 31,
we’ve only just begun.
Not really birds of a feather,
but, truly, always together.
There’s good in what we’ve been,
in our 31 and 10.
There’s great in what we’ll be,
just you wait and see.
The best is yet to come,
with you, on Planet Awesome.
There’ll be no need to worry,
not in our love story.
With you as queen, I’m king.
Next stop…everything!

2011 Valentine

Valentines Day, 2011

Where Is the Love?
Love is everywhere,
in the coffee in the morning,
in the movies that we share,
in the songs that others sing.
Love is in the air,
in odd spaces so it seems,
in the cats for whom we care,
in wishes, hopes and dreams.
Love is not so rare,
not very far away,
seen by those who dare,
beside the place I stay.
Love is always there,
when it seems even not to be,
for you the Mrs. fair,
standing next to me

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Favorite Dylan, Astrologically Speaking Blues

I have to say
that Lay Lady Lay
is the one to play
on Valentine’s Day
At another time,
there might be a better rhyme,
another to be sung,
like, say, Forever Young.
But, to my eye,
since Bob’s a Gemini,
the one I’ll vote for
is Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Teo Leo

He likes Suzanne Vega rhyming and Cedar Walton timing, he drinks coffee in the morn, CafĂ© Moto, just now born; he grows hair upon his face, with a lion’s manely grace, and talks with hands upon his hips, discussing foreign trips; tips generously, he does, loves all nurses just because; sometimes happy, sometimes sad, all injustice makes him mad, goes on hikes just for the thrill, through the valley, up the hill; he eats cupcakes for the taste, thinks most diets are a waste, lives to paint and poem, now calls San Diego home; just an ordinary guy, not too boastful, seldom shy, he makes casseroles for dinner, not much caring about thinner; he’s the leader of his groups, the okra in the soups, foreign films get a look, he enjoys a good book; loves tall trees, names his birds, sings the oldies, have you heard? He likes Bob Dylan rhyming and Katy Perry miming, doesn’t care to be well-dressed, but he knows that he is blessed; that’s him, the real deal, our good friend, Teo Leo.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

New Names

Unopened boxes still piled in the dining room,
two of everything, at least,
from forty-plus years of marriage,
from  sixty-plus years of living,
twelve years at the last stop,
thirteen before that,
another twelve even earlier,
now in their Forever House, they laughed,
because the next one is the Old Folks’ Home.

Lots of work to do,
so much to give away,
find new homes for old favorites,
find the garbage can for lesser lights.
Some friends called them hoarders,
themselves, they thought romantics,
memories buried in those things of theirs,
a comfortable history, togetherness stuff.

The boxes could wait, though.
So much more important to do.
Barbers and dentists and grocers to find,
An honest mechanic, a hairdresser who’d listen.
A new vet, maybe top of the early list,
the pets as demanding as ever,
even with their new window spot, cat tv,
new birds to track, new names to give.

In Sedona, they’d had a hummingbird highway,
Palm Springs provided ducks and geese and egrets,
making their way south in winter,
Marin had, of all things, a few eagles, and many hawks.
What would the southland bring,
America’s Finest City, the signs said,
America’s Best Weather, the slogans rang.

So far, some overweight doves,
many finches and wrens,
ironically, an eagle-eyed cooper’s hawk,
and one mightily bossy and possessive hummingbird,
all feasting at the feeders,
all surely named by Max Cat,
though, so far, he’s keeping it to himself,
content with his avian cinemascope.

Wondering, do birds name themselves,
or one another?
Something’s going on between them,
chirping and peeping and singing all day,
some of it to let us know the feeder’s nearly empty,
a lot of it some form of tree-to-tree repartee,
still more a type of alert., that hawk being so near.
That bossy hummer’s words are clear – Mine! Get out!
The doves’ coos are less evident – sweet nothings?
(or are they simply simpletons?)
The wrens don’t have much to say. They come to eat.

Whatever the communication,
there’s some sort of community out there,
in the trees, on the fence, at the feeders.
They must be sending messages to other trees and rails,
new visitors approaching every day.
Remindful of distant friends,
a gentle jab- keep in touch, make that call, write that note.
New friends to make, of course, new names to learn,
but old ones to maintain, familiar names to cherish,
and maintenance it requires, surely worth the effort.

Unopened boxes still piled in the dining room,
Some containing photos,
others with cards and letters, mementos all.
A move every dozen or so years,
with history and friends trailing behind.
Always owning, since Barbara always says
she doesn’t rent, she nests.
This might be the last stop,
feathers grown thinner and grayer,
names getting harder to remember.
This might be the last stop.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

The 17-Year Diet

And now, for the silliest of resolutions...

Having lost 1200 pounds
in his life, he was an expert,
50 each time, for 24 rounds,
in-between, a little growth spurt.
It’s quite easy, he would say,
a simple food vacation,
just a tiny price to pay,
a few months of moderation.
Avoid the butter, oils and fat,
keep the protein small and lean,
no white foods, none of that,
stick with yellows, reds and green.
Though some might yet resist,
not my friend so very wise,
he will tell you, yes insist
one must also exercise.
There’s a plan under the sun,
if you listen to this sage,
an approach for everyone,
every week an brand new rage.
Myself, I started dieting
back in 1995.
I’m still here, also healthy,
grateful just to be alive.
I haven’t lost much heft,
might have gained a pound or two,
but with what years are left,
no minor, minus resolutions will ensue.
I’ll stick to bigger goals,
positive, grand plans,
I’ll aim for lofty roles,
for the betterment of Man.

A Questionku

We must have peace,
it can bloom with us,
if not ourselves, then who?