Archive for the ‘Whimsy’ Category

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Breakfast Food

October 9, 2006

Your lucky charms entice me –
Too, your dulcet, “Cheerios“,
when your sugar smacks surprise me
you should hear my honey nut “ohs”.

It’s my total admiration
for what I call your “Special K
they’re the smart start celebration
to my life most every day.

No trix, I mean your kisses
with my morning Frosted Flakes,
They’re my all bran plan delicious,
I’m the fruity loop your love makes!

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Black Cat, Drat!

September 14, 2006

Black cat, drat
Walking under ladders; does it really matter?
Step on a crack, how’s your mother’s back?
These recipes for superstition often come to some fruition…

When you sneeze, please hold your nose, and whisper “Labruid”.
A mirror breaks, for seven years your luck will be no good.
Careful in a building if it has a floor thirteen
chances are its occupants are really rather mean.

Roswell in New Mexico’s the place you must attend
if, by chance, your interests run to greenish little men.
While we’re on that color green, another one that’s thorny:
watch out for green M & Ms since they will make you . . .

Corny cobs in snowmen’s mouths will make them come alive,
Elvis is still living; he alone invented jive,
just like Al Gore with the Internet, and Bush, Saddam Hussein
(As a side note, aren’t all politicians just a pain!).

Well, I guess in these last lines I’ve gone quite far afield (Ed.
From classic superstitions to the modern ones I’ve yielded),
I must be moving on, but yet I have one final note:
Don’t make me out to be your sacrificial lamb, er, goat.

For when it comes to superstitions, I just don’t believe ’em
(though watch me as I hold my breath when I pass a mausoleum).
Nothing ever beats a little bit of self-protection,
just as long as I don’t indulge in any serious self-reflection.

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Opinions

August 20, 2006

11/1984

Opinions have a way
of hurting those they touch
for never is a true
opinion kind, with love

For I may say, “I like it,”
but deep inside you know
that what I really mean
is that “It doesn’t go”.


Another busy week getting ready for the school year to start again, and so no time to sit and write. I miss it!!! I hope to get back to writing this week, but in the meantime here is a little ditty about the position none of us love to be in: “So tell me, how does this look on me? Do you like it?”

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Subway Dream

August 13, 2006

Something happened on my way home yesterday
you opened up your blue-green mouth and I was
swallowed up by the noisy indignation of the
brutal street; grey taxi-cabs passed me on the
thoroughfare of little angels and I dove into a waterfall
of slowly swirling images of doubt.

When I surfaced for air, all I could see was a sky
light of stars as they fell upwards, moving
to plug the leaks in the firmament that were left
by your big footprints, your high heels punching
patterns of holes in my self-esteem, and when
I turned the corner, I was back in my bedroom alone.

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Library

August 6, 2006

Books spill,
Overflowing arms —
“Quiet, please!”

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More cinquains

August 5, 2006

Waking
after his rest
the grizzly bear stretches
sniffs the air for honey and writes
new poems.


The coarse
bristles; his beard
itched me when I kissed him,
I could smell the scotch on his breath:
Father.


Grenades
would be so much
easier to handle
if they came with pins that didn’t
pull out.


Pull out
all of the stops!!
It’s my birthday today
(really yesterday but I’m still
part’ing)!

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Thoughts on Turning Thirty-Seven

August 5, 2006

When you turn thirty-seven:

you shouldn’t be surprised
when people call you sir.

you start to realize that
the body you have now
is probably the one you
are going to be stuck with
the rest of your life.

forty isn’t as far away
as it used to be.

you are now as old
as your parents were
when they were
thirty-seven years old.

you’ll never be cool again
to anyone under eighteen
(not that you ever were).

MTV is younger than you.

if you double your age
you would be older than
that Beatles’ song about
old people who need to be
taken care of.

the poetry you wrote
as a teenager starts
to look pretty good
again (well, some of it
does; the rest looks
like pretentious crap).

retirement is only
thirty-seven years
away!


My thirty-seventh birthday was yesterday (if you want to sing, go right ahead), so this seemed apropos.