Posts Tagged ‘poem


Black Bird

black bird against blue
sky framed by still bare branches.
crows eat anything


Moonlight And More So

The world is much more so
When I’m trying to fall asleep:
Bubbles in the Perrier pinging against their green glass prison;
Cats who discreetly waited till after midnight to consummate their lust;
Unread and partially read books jostling for position in the bedside pile;
Chocolate with sea salt and chocolate with ginger breathing darkly through the gaps in the drawers;
Moonlight- somehow brighter than the sun was at noon- slanting through the blinds, sparkling on the needles in my abandoned knitting;
And words cartwheeling in my brain wanting to be couplets and paragraphs.
Bubbles and chocolates and words, where were you all day?
Will any of you still be hanging around when I wake up?


I Wanted To Be Left Alone

All I wanted to do was wrap up in my Snuggie,
Play games on my laptop, maybe eat a little chocolate.
You were going to the store and wanted me to go with
But I have cramps & my back hurts & I really don’t care
If anybody eats again as long as they leave me alone.
You wore me down and I put on decent clothes &
Washed my face & combed my hair & sat down to wait.
I sat on the edge of the couch while you read
sections of the Sunday paper and drank your tea.
Suddenly an internal signal sounded and you stood up.
I stood up too, bouncing off the sofa like a jack-in-the-box.
Now you’re mad all over again.
You say I had bad body language. I need to monitor myself.
I need to be more aware of what my body is saying.
The purpose of language is communication and I know
My body is saying what my words and voice said 40 minutes ago:
I want to be left alone.


Fur Majesty

As if all cats were queen
And our job is too serve,
To carry her little handbag,
To make her crown secure,
To tie her silk head scarf,
Freshen her loo with greenery,
Drive her to the country
Should she want a change of scenery,
Take charge of her meals,
Don’t let her feet get wet,
Cosset her, never fuss her,
She believes she’s everyone’s pet
And our job is to serve-
As if all cats were queen.
As if
All cats
Are queen.


5 Easy Pieces

Grandmas’ hands should be boney and knurled.
Hers are puffed up because her heart is failing.
Puffy as the bread dough she kneads.
Flour-filled ditches criss-cross her hands like
Irrigation tracks on the farm.

Venusian canals meander and wind-
Double-yellow lines laid down by a drunk.

How did you feel when you mixed up the sugar and salt?
We all laughed but did you really feel like crying?
Looking up, she smiled and squeezed me.
“Don’t be silly, honey. Everyone cries when they chop onions.”

(This poem came from the exercise “Five Easy Pieces” by Richard Jackson in the book The Practice of Poetry.)


Roadside Poppies

Roadside poppies
Made adamantine
By last night’s rain
Shone in this morning’s sun
Like Maureen’s fresh-painted toenails.



Mister skateboarder, thinking you’re cool;
Flexing and posing on the way to school.
You think you’re so hot. You think you’re really cooking
But I saw you hitch your shorts up when you thought no one was looking.