Sensei At Sunset

 

And so, once again

I speak to you of the rat--

the bachelor rat--

who visits my garage.

He is a good rat,

even a fine one as rats go.

Never once has he lied to me

or tried to be anything

but what he is.

I feed him each evening

but tried to stop when the weather improved.

He came out and looked at me

as if to ask what had happened

and couldn't we overcome it?

I admire the rat.

He harbors no silent resentments.

He is who he is

all the time

and perhaps that is why he is alone.

I am alone also

and I am who I am, as the rat teaches.

I have a fine dog.

Many birds come to visit

and I feed this rat

rather than trying to kill him.

Goodnight, good sir.

I am grateful for your life

and my own.

___________

for Dverse Meeting the Bar. 

Music: Leon Russell Stranger In A Strange Land

At Breakfast

 

at breakfast

your smile

made me want to smash it

as bravely fragile things

sometimes do.

at lunch

I called you

like climbing Everest

because it is there

and like a metronome

because it always has.

At dinner

I made something nice

that our son wouldn't eat.

I said,

starve then.

you said,

what would you like instead?

At midnight

you wanted it

but I

kissed the dog,

told him I love him

and rolled away from you

like a pearl

from a broken strand.

______

shared with WGO? open link

Sneakers

 

I dreamed I was young again

which seemed natural

(and woke up old again

which did not.) 

I had on kicks that looked as if

they'd been left out in the rain,

buried in a mud slide

and chewed up by wild dogs.

Does a life get old, too?

When is the last day of school?

When do all these teachers

lose their love of lessons?

I dreamed I was looking

for new blindingly white shoes

to make my feet like new brides

puppies fresh as fabled loves.

I woke up gimpy, slow, sore.

A shining soul misplaced

in this beat-up box of a body.

It must be keen for a new ride.

I dreamed I was young again

but woke up old

without possibility of parole

except by the sleep that cures and mends.

_____________

for Word Garden Word List--Game Six. 

Music: Grace Potter, I Shall Be Released

Process notes: I did dream last night that I was young again and wearing completely worn-out sneakers from long travels. I had it in mind to buy new, spiffy, blindingly white ones that day as I had another journey ahead.

   Some years back, I had a dream in which I was vividly, pointedly, and emphatically told that April 17th would be my day to step across into the light. However, there was nothing about what year. And so, every spring I get a little nervous. In fat, I was seriously scared the first time around, but the day has come and gone several times now and like Elton John, I'm still standing. For the first time, I'm sanguine about the day approaching. If this is the year, I'm okay with that.

Word Garden Word List--Game Six

 

Hello my little spring chickens, and welcome to another Word Garden Word List poetry prompt! If you know me, you know that I have been a seamhead since I was 6 years old, and with this week being the opening of a new baseball season, I have chosen an excellent book as our source this time: Mark Frost's Game Six.

The Mick. He had retired by the time of game six.

Game Six is an immensely entertaining and readable account of game six of the classic 1975 World Series. It delves into the personalities of the players, what made game six so memorable, and is packed with interesting information I didn't know before. 

Some of you don't care about the sportsing!

I know that not all of you care about baseball, but it doesn't matter! Just use 3 or more of the 20 words provided in a new, original poem of your own. Then simply link up, visit others, and then sit back in the sun with a dog and a Coke and enjoy yourself! This prompt remains active through next Saturday. 

And now, your List:

children

curiously

doggone

fabled

few

gimpy

job

kicked

leather

master

plant

poster

promise

rain

school

scrap

souls

spotlight

story

tradition

Forever Friend

 I was (as you know)

your father's friend,

his support and sanctuary.

He trusted me

with his Royal

and knew I would guard

his heavy black pencils,

gum erasers,

handheld hole punch

and precious papers.

Robert Frost, 

forever choosing between two roads,

was my partner

your Dad's familiar,

watching over us from the wall.

And you, young lady,

used to slip in on the sly

and pretend to be

as great as the man you loved so much.

Now he has passed

but you have his treasures in a box

and me 

in your home,

an honored guest.

I know you know

that I am your friend as well

and can be trusted to be here

(sans ashtray)

to guard your things and your heart

just as I did

for your Daddy

when you were just a child.

for Dverse Poetics: Personifying the Abstract

Music: Nilsson Good Old Desk

Remember, Word Garden Word List remains active until Sunday!

En Graved (A Love Poem)

 look close--

here is your engraved invitation

the Hubble at your disposal.

A long bone

and rose thorn comprise my stylus--

the blasted dust of the moon we thought so lovely

is wounded into an imago

a blighted imbecile twin, 

love lost and lunatic.

_________

for Quadrille Monday "Engrave Your Name Across My Heart"

Image:  from the excellent indie film Another Earth

Music: Til Tuesday The Other End (Of the Telescope)

Giselle

 

In Paris, at that time

we knew of Giselle, the world's most

talented and also hideous torch singer.

Muddy complected,

with white eyes like egg shells,

and skin chock-a-block with blue veins,

the woman was hard on the vision, sweet to the ears.

Have you ever heard

a buzzard that could break your heart?

Giselle could wring your soul with Gloomy Sunday,

make you miss someone

you never met with Lover Man

(Oh Where Can You Be?) She was serious!

Willow Weep For Me used to make 'em bawl like babies.

So one night this strange cat

showed up and started bringing her

trifles -- sugar candies, baubles, pretty shells and whatnot.

Oh, she sang, Just in time,

you found me just in time and she smiled

like a split shoe and ran her broken branch fingers through his hair.

We wondered, is he crazy? Blind? What?

Well, he weren't blind.

Cat could read a menu from five miles off

and he was no bug either, he was some kind of poet.

What we found out, after a long time,

was that this cat was stone deaf from bombs in the war.

He just loved Giselle like a bird loves the sky at dawn when it's

Beginning To See The Light. 

_________

for Word Garden Word List--My Dear I Wanted To Tell You. 

Music: Della Reese I'm Beginning To See the Light