To- do’s

 Daily To-do List

1. Shop for dinner
2. Pay bills
3. Write birthday friends 
4. Vacuum and dust
5. Moisturize feet
6. Develop awesome personality 
7. Write and post poems
8. Record on my YouTube channel

Necessary Things

 Books

One should first be a follower

to learn to be a leader,

and if one would be a good writer, 

they must too be a great reader.

I like my house with books,

not too neatly piled, please,

some on desks, others shelved,

a few scattered here and there, at ease.

My life requires a physical touch, 

a few hundred books, magazines, 

really not all that much.

Home is where my heart is,

also where my books are,

an address book the most important,

absolutely, certainly, yes, by far.

I can’t imagine

a life without friends,

absent them there’d be no me.

My profile, certainly,

would be nothing to see.

Much of me reflects them,

of this I am sure.

Solo, I might go on, but

in no way as pure.

I have phone numbers and I have books. 

Who needs anything more?

Flight

 

Flight

The night moon sits, lingering,

bright but hidden

behind the evening clouds.

How soon,

‘twas only noon

a few minutes ago,

the sun shining, its glow

large with dreams, with hope.

The day moon looked on then too,

light gray within the blue,

faint but present,

an augury of things to come,

too easily ignored by most of us,

less foreshadow, more omen.

When the final moment arrives,

as it assuredly must,

filtered by the end’s dark dust,

yet with a light brighter than

the moon and  stars,

it will be the middle of the night.

No matter the time.

One will know that the past

ended yesterday, 

and in the end,

our lives are simply stories,

and the dark of night 

comes all too soon.

So much 

for man.

The world 

will proceed

with its plan

Old Men

 Old Men

Old men can’t help themselves,

it’s the nature of the beast,

the looking back,

the wondering about change,

about the passing of time.

What of the lake,

so needed in the dog days of summer,

those lazy, hazy days from June to September,

when there was no A/C to crank up.

Is it still a playground without toys,

loved by local girls and boys?

No matter the age we make,

one can’t forget the days,

the unfettered joys,

shared with friends

that time has taken.

We ran through sprinklers,

back and forth, back and forth,

kissed by the sun before retreating

to the shade of an elm,

enjoying an ice cold glass of lemonade,

the kind our moms made.

Is the sky still cloudy in summer,

white puffs portending the arrival

of the thunderheads to come,

rolling in from the plains?

Do children still see them

like pages from a book,

stories ever changing,

always rearranging,

they, the authors, arguing

about the plots – is it a rabbit or mouse?

No! Can’t you see the kangaroo?

And the summer nights

under the stars,

the sights and sounds, the Northern Lights.

Still filled with crickets, owls and fireflies?

Mothers calling? Children whispering, telling lies?

We couldn’t hear them,

sitting, listening to the gentle waves

lapping at the shore,

not catching them like those California surfers,

just wishing we never had to leave our beach,

never, not ever,

just wanting to stay young and happy, evermore.

The Art of Peace

 Peace on earth, yes, but first start

with peace in your mind, in your heart.

Even as you function as compassion in motion,

thinking you’re but a drop of water in an ocean,

be strong, confident, at ease,

knowing the battle’s won, wage peace.

With peace, like love, normal rules don’t apply.

Laugh at rejections, false failures. They lie.

Just do your best, be present, show up,

you’ll soon measure the Good in your loving cup.

Peace abides, choose hope, open your heart,

see the Good in everyone, it’s your best start.