Category Archives: poetry

HIBERNATE

Let’s hibernate together when the first snow falls,

or make plans to go south when the lead goose calls.

“Hurry up, or we’ll be late,

This is a special time for us. Don’t you remember our first date?”

I was impatient, anxious to go,

But you emerged like a butterfly, my eyes got large, and my heart said, “Whoa!”

Each year with you is better than ever,

and I want to hold you for a day and forever.

We’ll lock the cave door and turn off the light,

and cuddle passionately through this magical night.

I don’t want intruders to interrupt our sleep,

We’ll love intensely, hard and deep,

Let’s hibernate together when the first snow falls,

or make plans to travel when the first goose calls.

June 27, 2017

Imagining

WHEEL

I was given a long flexible stick

And told to make something useful.

As a traveler and hunter for my tribe,

I set out to complete this task,

But did the elders know what they asked?

A wheel can mark a hunter’s domain,

Marking the outer edge of his territory,

 an equidistance from the center point,

and keeping him close to home.

We were following buffalo, dear, and other game,

Dragging our tepees across the plain.

When wheels were attached to a cart,

They became an essential part,

Allowing the cart to travel smoothly

With a bigger load.

A small fire carried as a light,

Marked a circle around us and

Helped us find our way in the darkest night.

And as we were later told,

A wheel of light helped sailors

Stay away from rocky shore,

Crashing on rocks nevermore.

Later, when we had time to invent,

One man stationary at a center point while another walked,

Our tribe developed a sprinkling system,

Circular and precise, measured with string,

An easy way to keep track of everything.

But did the elders know how much we could learn

By inventing with a stick, twine, and imagining?

June 27, 2017

THROUGH YOUR EYES

I want to travel the world through your eyes,

Finding love and treasures beyond the skies.

My poems may tell of adventures I found,

But my heart will always be homeward bound.

Everything I am, you taught me to feel,

Without your love, nothing is real.

My heart is packed to travel light,

I wish,  I wish, with all my might,

To be with you all through the night.

I miss your laughter, your love, your charms,

You should be next to me, within my arms.

I am growing older with each passing day,

And yet my love grows stronger in every way.

You make me need your love within,

And yes, it’s true, I miss skin to skin.

I claim your heart as I dream about you,

Dancing in darkness until morning dew.

All my life I waited for your kiss,

But I never believed the passion would be like this.

I’ll be in your heart and your dreams too,

Walking, dancing, and loving you.

I’ll travel the world as you cross the sea,

But when you need love, come home to me.

June 26, 2017

DEBBIE

                SHE FORGOT TO WRITE HER NAME

She was in a rush, at least walking fast.

I thought she might walk on past,

But she didn’t.

She became intrigued by what I was asking.

Asking questions about what her friends knew,

And when they knew it, sort of presidential questions.

“Who are you, and why are you questioning them?” she asked.

“It’s a fun way of finding out more information about friends,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked, evidently not convinced.

“Put down ten questions about yourself with answers,” I said.

“Everybody has secrets, more than what you read.”

She was convinced suddenly, and her questions flowed like water in a stream,

Tumbling one after another, as in a rapidly growing dream.

“I want to see what you see when you talk about me.”

Then she blurted, “I want you to make a poem about me!”

In case you are ready to assign blame,

Debbie is her name. Also known as ‘LIL Debbie.

She loves being a grandma with nine kids,

And loves her own three children, if you should ask.

She loves to travel, evidently enjoying the company of others,

Every day she does extra things that make people smile,

 whether it’s a friend, a patient or a stranger.   

She’s married and she loves the food her husband cooks.

Debbie is a shopper extraordinaire, using coupons to have fun

But still stay on a budget.

Debbie was a single mom with three children and three jobs

For many years.  That kept her strong through the years of tears.

Debbie might ask anyone some questions, as I found out.

She wants answers that don’t leave any doubts.

She had to scramble to keep up with her kids,

And she learned to be a multitasker in order to cope.

Debbie is an optimist with lots of hope. 

If you want more information look for her smile,

Then sit her right down and chat for a while.

June 24, 2017

CLOSED CURTAINS

Closed Curtains

Grandma stood on the back porch dispensing advice.

“Don’t meddle with the pups,” I heard her say.

“Anyone who meddles after being warned,

Will have hell to pay!”

I learned my lesson early and then,

I had to learn it all over again.

Our family had moved from Oklahoma

Just two months earlier and were settling in,

But it was San Joaquin Valley hot,

And my younger brother and I decided to go for a swim.

Grandma was watching us close,

As we started walking beside the road.

“Watch out for the woman next door!”

Obediently we moved to the asphalt,

Bare feet on the hot pavement.

Our feet were frying, but neither was crying.

We heard a loud thumping and froze,

Craning our necks and looking strange, I suppose.

The old woman stood on her porch,

Thumping the butt of her shotgun,

In a steady rhythm to get our attention.

“Stay off my property, you damn Okies!” she screamed.

I don’t know if she would have shot or not.

We kept walking, no talking,

Afraid to ask questions.

I never knew if anyone made it clear,

But from time to time the old woman would appear,

And watch as badminton, croquet,

And other outdoor games were played.

We never retrieved anything that fell on her yard.

We didn’t meddle because she was on guard.

We did offer cookies, candy, and cake,

But she always shook her head and would not partake.

Choosing to stay behind closed curtains.

June 20, 2017

VOICES

VOICES

 

Relieved to know the night is over,

I open my eyes and wait.

The voices will be back,

They come at times I can’t anticipate.

They begin their attack,

As morning’s first surprise,

A beautiful time to wake and rise,

A time when I am not afraid.

The voices are familiar,

Voices of people I know,

People trying to stay out of sight,

Usually dressed in white.

There are walls on every side,

Places to hide and yet remain inside.

The voices are back,

This time with music that is too loud.

I am relieved to know it is cartoon time,

But they think I’m out of my mind,

And they don’t watch me blink,

And realize I still think.

If I could cry I would shed a tear,

But I am controlled by hate and fear.

Someone is screaming my name

But I’m not to blame.

It’s always the same.

Why do I need pills?

I’m tired of sleeping

When I know the world is keeping

Vigil, watching armies build and grow,

While I am locked within my head,

Alive for now, but almost dead,

The final war, the war to end all wars,

Is marching, marching, closing in,

Is this the beginning or the end?

June 19, 2017

BOTTLES

BOTTLES

I have a bottle filled with liquid dreams,

Dreams of love, mystery, and power.

When I am lonely, weak, or afraid,

I take a drink, sometimes often in my darkest hours.

This bottle is always half full,

Because dreams should never run dry.

I dream of being king,

With beautiful damsels dancing,

As far as I can see,

Eagerly offering to please me endlessly,

Armies kneeling at the mention of my name.

But it is not destined to be.

I am a twin, born twenty minutes too late,

And I have no kingdom unless changed by fate.

Perhaps if I put a different bottle in its place,

I could be somewhere else to show my face.

And if he chooses the other bottle,…..

There’s been a change of plans.

I don’t know what to say,

He wants to honor me today.

I don’t know which liquid I should partake.

It’s not an easy decision to make.

The king is waiting with outstretched arms,

I’ve pledged often to keep him from harm.

From each bottle I am expected to take one drink.

There’s no time to run, no time to think.

June 19, 2017