A Hard Rhyming Number’s
Like in a Bob Dylan song,
one can force a little rhyme.
Unless it seems too strong,
too jarring to one’s senses,
then a la Mr. Armstrong,
one might scat a Louis lyric,
a mouth harp to play along,
madly prepping for some prime time,
since prime and time do rhyme.
Or maybe it’s just wrong.
Barbara
I thought I’d
used up all my luck
in Vietnam.
Wrong.
Just look at her.
Nothing strange about it,
not luck at all,
even though she, at the start,
took my name,
it wasn’t until after
I stole her heart.
True love might be a lottery.
If so, I’m so happy
she took a chance on me.
I often stare in the dark,
while she sleeps, amazed
at how lucky I am.
But it’s no accident,
no stroke of luck,
we do not bumble, seldom stumble,
satisfied each day, in every way
with what our life has meant to say.
As I See It
There’s nothing to wish for, nothing to crave.
We already have all that we need.
There’s more to cherish in the things we gave.
There’s nothing to wish for, nothing to crave.
Only our memories are worthy to save,
all else, like the dandelion, going to seed.
There’s nothing to wish for, nothing to crave.
We already have all that we need.
From Where I Sit
Even when the clouds weep,
or the earth cries out in pain,
it is possible to find love
throughout the day,
We can find joy midst the suffering.
no matter our circumstances,
uncovering the spiritual truth of things,
behaving as harmlessly as
we know how to be.
Regardless of life’s mandates,
calm is desirable,
strength is obtainable,
healing is available.
It was just a tiny village
and everybody had their special roles.
Six churches, one drunken dentist,
one hardware store,
a small post office in a drug store,
an eight-lane bowling alley,
the barber, and the IGA grocery,
co-owned and run by my family and the Finks.
There were also tradesmen scattered about,
and thirty or more taverns,
but that’s a story unto itself.
I worked in the grocery, performing
most tasks, like checking and bagging,
stocking and delivery, sweeping and dusting,
marking prices on cans with black grease pencils.
I steered clear of the meat counter, though,
never trusting those knife-wielding butchers,
unable to stomach the blood, the smells.
When the summer folks arrived, mostly
rich city people who did not cook,
I learned to make potato salads and cole slaw
and baked beans, a vegetarian in the making.
The wealthy did not shop, calling in their orders,
and it was for me to take them their bags of goods.
Sometimes, I broke an egg or twelve along the way,
but they never tipped, so it did not bother me much.
It always amazed me that these people
with so much gave so little.
Today we were given six words to choose from in a poem we would write. Extra credit if we used all of them.
Source Material
Never really a conscious choice,
how nice it was to find my voice,
rough edges rounded, made more smooth
by words which heal, thoughts that sooth.
“This – or better” has been my creed,
simple tools all I’d need,
writing of grief and love and joy,
grateful like a child with a new toy.
Who could have known what lay before,
beyond the walls, the open door.
First one chapbook, then some others,
enjoyed by poets, sisters, brothers.
A blog which gained more fans, more eyes,
some laurels too, to my surprise.
What fun it was to turn each page,
as decades brought me to this age.
Now I simply play my part,
encourage others from an open heart,
stay aware of my place, my season,
sometimes without rhyme or reason,
playing the long game, it’s not a race,
comforted by my convictions and
God’s great Grace.
Intention
Clearly, evil is real
in the world,
tangible enough
to do battle
with love and light
and good.
Like invisible ink,
it is present nonetheless,
reaching inside,
warming and shaping.
I can read the ink,
and still, I seek a
non-anxious presence
in this anxious world,
even a healing,
trying to remove
the trying, with
effortless effort.
Aware of the fear,
sensing the doubt,
feeling the frustration,
reading thoughts of hopelessness,
it remains a worthy goal,
finding the courage to
drop the supposed safety that
we think we created,
to put away the armor,
become softer and more vulnerable,
open to love and light,
seeking the Good more than resisting evil.
