MUSE AND GUMPTION
I have felt for a while
that I had lost my poetic wile
and smile, but November
came to call and all that came back.
I claim my poet mantle
and give it another go.
I just hope my slips don’t show!
No time frame can stop it,
it allows me to hop on it.
Getting the word to get
absurd or heart-wrenchingly
subtle seems to place me
right place; right time.
Ready to rhyme before
the world gets the word
BLESSINGS AND DISGUISES
Blessings reign down, offerings
meant to enhance and entrance,
the beauty of the world in a
moment to make life better.
Some times the blessings
are hidden, meant to be found;
a revelation quite profound.
Some times blessing are left
in the open, tripping you up
to cause you to take a second look.
And some times, blessings
are just the people who you
have come to rely upon,
and who rely on you.
Don’t try to hide, because
you know inside, the blessings
we seek will find you on the first peek.
It’s unexpected wonder we’re under.
I didn’t know you from Eve,
but I believe there was something
about you that attracted me.
Predictably, I reacted as I always had,
tongued-tied and bumbling, fumbling.
Mumbling something about your eyes,
or hair or the way you mangled the Queen’s English.
You appeared out of the blue and into view
of this hopefully, hopeless romantic;
a man of quiet confidence
and words up the wazoo. And you,
younger by nearly a decade
and a parade of failed relations
finding new elation in me.
I was looking to forget someone.
You were looking for a future
someone to forget. Our eyes met,
I had let my guard down;
you found that moment to confound me.
“What you looking at?” asked you.
“The hell if I know!” came in reply.
Smiles connected us. Who knew?
I wasn’t looking for you, and there you were.
The laws of attraction…most unexpected.
WISDOM FROM BEYOND
Our old house,
empty then after Dad’s passing.
We were on a quest to get the place
ship-shape before its much put off disposal.
A brother still in residence,
an upper apartment meant to hold him over
between divorce and reconciliation (both came),
with everything including faulty kitchen drain
(which in illness Dad never got around to mending).
I became the pretending plumber; my brother,
an apprentice, snaking the pipe every which way but clear,
when I hear “under the stairs!”. My brother fully unaware
as I stare incredulously at his claim of silence.
“I heard you say ‘under the stairs’” I insisted,
but he resisted the notion with negative nods.
Mere moments brought a familiar sound,
“Under the stairs” it would resound, catching me
off guard and slightly perturbed. It disturbed me more
when my brother was sure he hadn’t uttered a word.
My faculties were not on Spring Break, my wits
were full about me. I was left thinking “Had I been drinking?”
But I would swear on a stack of pancakes
that what had me quaking in my shoes was more
of “Boo’s” than booze. “Under the stairs” once again.
I shout, “WHAT! WHAT”S UNDER THE STAIRS?”
Surely, a younger sibling witnessing the dismantling
of his older brother’s rocker would be more concerned.
But he yearned for the ‘project’ to be over.
I descend the ladder and end up under the stairs
amidst the cobwebs and dust balls there.
All these years since, I no longer wince
at the sound of my Father’s voice directing me,
his heavy metal plumbers snake wedged under the riser.
A wiser man would have snickered at my flicker
of insanity. But all of humanity would crave for
that sound one last time to etch firmly in mind.
My Father continues to keep watch;
me still listening for the wisdom in his whisper.
skies clear with a few
clouds, but nothing to write
home about. Out of nowhere, the
turbulence kicked up her heels send
ing the airship into a raucous rock. Tossed
like a worn rag doll and
cont rol all but lost
the obj ect as of now
is to sa ve as
ma ny liv es at
any cost. But, look ing
out of the win dow
the pil ot’s ch ute
ope ns, leav ing the
pan icky Pa ss en
S. O. L.