Category Archives: Poem

The Church of Zeke

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jdb photo

The Church of Zeke

Zeke was a very handsome man, well-schooled in vendition,
yet some said his lifestyle had him headed for perdition.
When others went to church, he said he preferred to go fishin’,
He couldn’t stand the piety or the erudition.

He wasn’t their sort of spiritual. When they made a tape
of the preacher’s sermon, he made a grand escape.
Even taped religion to him was not a treat.
When told to go down on his knees, he remained on his feet.

When grilled on his decision, he’d been known to just repeat
that when he kicked the bucket, he’d rather face the heat
than listen to those preacher boys with their great oration
the subject of which, without fail, was his own damnation.

He fed the poor. He did not judge men by their lifestyle or their race.
What he said to others he repeated to your face.
Helpful to his neighbors and faithful to his wife,
he did no ill to others for his entire life.

All of his religion was garnered by his doing—
his piety in action—not in listening or viewing.
And when he faced the pearly gates, they welcomed him right in.
It seems the key to heaven is not talking about sin,

but how you treat the needy and your actions toward others.
Do you accept all people as sisters and as brothers
no matter what their skin color or sexual decision?
Do you face even “different” folks without scorn or derision?

Picking up a prayer book and sitting in a pew
is not retribution for what you say and do.
What you state in piety, others are out doing—
preferring to dish out the fat that you are only chewing!!

They carved on his tombstone what his whole life he’d been saying.
“What others only talked about in sermons and in praying,
he put to practice in his life by not judging his brother
 and not letting his actions be dictated by another!”

 

photo of fisherman by Chris Sarsgard on Unsplash. Used with permissionjdb photo


Not an indictment against religion by any means. Just a reply to those who claim piety but seem not to understand the words they read and preach by putting them into action.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

“Suffer the little children to come on to me.”

. . . . Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii[c and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have. Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”

James 2;1-4 KJV:  My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of persons. For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel,and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; And ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool: Are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?

Then Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let us go out to the field.” And while they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel and killed him. And the LORD said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” “I do not know!” he answered. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” “What have you done?” replied the LORD. “The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground.

Therefore whatever you desire for men to do to you, you. shall also do to them; for this is the law and the prophets.

And, my friend Christine Goodnough, after reading this piece, added this scripture:
“He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” Micah 6:8

Prompt words today are spiritual, tape, handsome, vendition and treat.

“A” List Groupie

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Image by Clint Patterson on unsplash. Used with permission.

“A” List Groupie

I don’t need to pay cover. I came with the band.
See the bracelet I’m wearing? The stamp on my hand?
I can come, I can go wherever I please.
I’m the favorite of all—the lead singer’s main squeeze.
Don’t gauge my importance by my appearance.
I’m a V.I.P. I have backstage clearance!
My jeans may be ripped, but I have tons of dough.
I pay my own way wherever I go.
The band extols my virtues. They know I’m no skag.
I may look like a groupie, but I drive a jag!!!

Prompt words today are band, go, gauge, extol and ton.

Christmas in a Modern Age

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Christmas in a Modern Age

All around the town and all around the parish,
folks put up decorations wherein they laud and cherish
the Christ child and his mother and his holy birth
then put up lights and tinsel to show the joy and mirth
with which they remember all he represents,
and then they go a-caroling, these ladies and these gents,
overlooking other pilgrims in their present.
Dealing with such immigrants in real time is not pleasant.
They’d slam the door and relegate them to their horrid fate,
for generosity and charity is not the mode of late.
Religion is much easier when practiced from afar,
so those in need of shelter will not find our doors ajar.

 

The prompts today are joy, tinsel and cherish.

House Fairies?

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Book Fairy

House Fairies?

The back door came unhinged in the hovel she lived in.
so when she got back home from wherever she had been,
there had been a kind intruder who sparkled up the place.
Tidied up the dishes and polished up its face.
Brightened up the house by cleaning all the glass—
giving the mirrors and windows more than just a pass.
Plumped up all the sofa cushions, scrubbed down all the floors.
Polished all the bathroom fixtures, fixed all of the doors.
Grime and dust and smudges that had grown over the years
were abolished in one massive cleaning in arrears.
Who the house fairy might have been, she never quite determined,
but her house was clean and glowing, its corners all de-vermined.
At first she was in shock and astonished at the brass
of the home invasion, but then it came to pass
that she kind of liked the order, the cleanliness and polish.
She wondered who it was who might have come in to abolish
all of her disorder, her smudginess and mess,
replacing it with all this pristine loveliness.
She never found the answer, but to encourage even more,
for the whole rest of her life, she never locked the door!!!

Prompt words today are sparkle, unhinged, hovel, brighten and year.

Winona

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Winona

She was disciplined and stern,
rigid, staunch and taciturn.
Her back seemed starched, her mouth a line.
Her clothing smelled like turpentine.
Each morning she dished out our gruel,
then perch herself upon a stool
expecting that we’d finish it.
A spoonful left? She’d have a fit!

She’d stamp her foot in consternation
and deliver an oration
of how hard her life had been.
Abandoned at the age of ten,
working in a factory
not pampered like the likes of me!
And so I’d spoon the gruel up,
or sneak it to my hungry pup,

leave the kitchen and escape
to hall or street or fire escape.
Every yule time was the same
when my Aunt Winona came
to visit us. “She’ll soon be gone,”
my mother told us. “Just play along.”
And so we did, all grateful for
the day that she walked out the door!

Prompt words today are taciturn, expect, yule, duration and stamp.

Macho

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DSC08411Mixed Media Retablo  “Macho” by Judy Dykstra-Brown

Macho

That stern detective, hewn from stone,
is a kid when he’s alone.
Looks at cartoons, lives on snacks—
bubble gum and Cracker Jacks.

Just goes to show you cannot tell
what delusions you must dispel
to find the truth of those you know.
You must look at what’s below.

 

Prompts today are hewn, detective, jack and snack.

Dream’abort’ Annie!

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Mexico, 2002.Annie, my second kitten adopted in Mexico, in her favorite place. She was adopted a year or so after after Talulah, whom I had found in a basket of scarves in a shop in Tonala that she had streaked into a minute before I walked in. The owner, whose daughter was allergic, begged me to adopted her and guess what?

Annie as a kitten and almost 19 years later. Seems impossible. The second two photos are of the day the kittens arrived and I found Kukla on the wall in a standoff with Annie, whose meal they were eating! Fiesty little thing. (Photos will enlarge if you click on them.)

Dream’abort’ Annie

Two A.M. and four A.M., six A.M. and eight.
My nineteen-year-old cat is such a reprobate.
She awakens me with yowling to be fed again
or simply for a rubbing over ears and under chin.

My night’s full of awakenings, my days are somewhat muddled.
I try to block the sound of her. I’m bleary and befuddled.
I’m sleep-deprived, exhausted, and yet she is so old,
how can I consign her to the night air and the cold?

I awake at 5 a.m. with no bleats for attention—
that every-other-hour irritating cause of tension.
And yet what mixed emotions this five-hour rest has brought.
Finally, a full-night’s sleep, but Annie I have not!

I knock upon the closet doors, follow every lead.
I mix up her favorite cat foods, but she does not heed
all these invitations—the water and the calls—
the peering under beds, searching the bathrooms and the halls.

I look behind each open door, behind the stereo—
so many hidden spaces where a cat can go.
The old cat’s turned up missing? It’s an oxymoron that
nonetheless is true when applied to my gray cat.

You may find it silly, putting up with such a cat
once so wild and kittenish, so active and so fat.
An outside cat who never deigned to come inside,
Annie chose walls and bushes as places to abide.

Every year she grew more wild and more free,
making an appearance on demand for only me.
Twice a day for meals, she would jump up on the wall
In between, she vanished—not visible at all.

Two years ago, four kittens abandoned at my door
meant that she just left for good, and I saw her no more.
One month later, she returned, hip shattered, skin and bone.
with stomach and liver problems, she was Annie’s ruined clone.

When the vet said nothing could be done, she came to live inside.
I thought, to make her comfortable there until she died,
but two years later, she rules the house and she won’t abide
any other lesser cat to be found inside.

She eats small portions all day long and though she’s lean and spare,
it seems she’s come into her own in my cozy lair.
The problem is, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since then.
For all the constant roarings that disturb the old cat’s den.

If it isn’t food she wants, it seems it is a rub,
or for me to clean her litterbox that’s found inside my tub
that I haven’t used for the two years she’s been here.
I use the guest room shower in lieu of one that’s near.

Sure that she’s died in some dark corner that I cannot see,
I move aside the furniture. I peer on bended knee
beneath the beds. I search each room with a fine-toothed-comb,
but no evidence of her is left within my home.

I’ve thought so often how much easier that it would be
if she would slip away one night and leave her master free.
What a lovely gift it would be for her to give me,
for often I have thought that probably she would outlive me!

The house seems oddly empty. By her water dish, her meal
left uneaten these long hours has started to congeal.
Her gray hairs left upon the rug where she liked to sleep.
Although I’ve loved her absence, it’s true that now I weep.

When the other cats give voice and I decide to heed them,
I get an extra surprise as I go outside to feed them.
When I open up the door, Annie scoots right in,
dashing from the overgrown foliage where she’s been.

Thus ends her great adventure and ends my great travail.
As I sit here writing, I can hear her latest wail.
I guess we’re back to where we were. Annie’s on my lap,
and as long as she is quiet, guess I’ll take a little nap.

 

“Heading out this morning, into the sun
Riding on the diamond waves, little darlin’ one
Warm wind caress her, her lover it seems
Oh Annie, dreamboat Annie, little ship of dreams
Oh Annie, dreamboat Annie, little ship of dreams
Going down the city sidewalk, alone in the crowd
No one knows the lonely one whose head’s in the clouds
Sad faces painted over with those magazine smiles
Heading out to somewhere, won’t be back for a while”

Prompts today are mix, follow, knock, silly and solicitude.

Second Thoughts

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Second Thoughts

We’ve brought your breakfast tray for we know that you’ve been restive,
but now we’d like to urge you to try to feel more festive.
Will you remain forever, questioning and forlorn
because you could not go downstairs on your wedding morn?
You cannot stay much longer in this sealed-off room.
The wedding guests are gathering. It’s time to jump the broom.

Jumping the broom is a time-honored wedding tradition in which the bride and groom jump over a broom during the ceremony. The act symbolizes a new beginning and a sweeping away of the past, and can also signify the joining of two families or offer a respectful nod to family ancestors.

Prompts today are wedding, stairs, urge, tray and festive.

Knees, Please

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Think of all the things you wouldn’t be able to do if you didn’t have knees!

(Click on photos to enlarge.)


Knees, Please

Knees, knees, folks have knees
from Katmandu down to Belize.
In Peru, where they ride llamas,
they still have knees in their pajamas.
Further north, up where it freezes,

even Polar bears have kneezes.


Knees, knees, folks have knees
to ogle, fondle, pet and squeeze.
(It’s easy when they’re under kilts.)
Some knees on roller skates or stilts
are scabbed and scaly, skinned and sore,

but still they know what they are for.


Knees are great to bounce a baby
to kick a soccer ball, or maybe
to bend in prayer when they’re in church,
or form a perfect sort of perch
for lovelorn boys on bended knee

to ask girls, “Will you marry me?”


Knees, knees, folks have knees
In sun they burn, in snow they freeze.
Yet knees can cross and knees can knock
Knees can jog you round the block.
Knees are handy and dependable.

And aren’t we glad that knees are bendable?

 

Matin for Patella


When begging, kicking,
flower picking,
shooting marbles, playing jacks,
checking out important facts
in books that live on lower shelves,
checking under beds for elves
and asking for a loved one’s hand,
you should never, never stand.
Instead, place one bent leg or more
solidly upon the floor
and as you kneel with grace and ease,

please thank the Lord for making knees!

 

This whole sequence was inspired by the first photo of little girls in the kids’ choir that performed at our Christmas party. I then remembered these silly poems I wrote years ago…and started looking for other knee photos. One hour later, here they are!  In the meantime, someone has been knocking insistently on my gate..although it is 11:30 P.M., so I called the guardhouse and had a security car drive by. The knocking stopped right after I called and no one is out there. Dogs weren’t barking. No telling what it was…..but knuckles, not knees were involved. (Putting in my tags, I see that one has already been done for “poem about knees” so perhaps I’ve run this before. Oh well. We can all read it again if we make it that far…

Venus in the Year 2020

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IMG_6981

Venus in the Year 2020

She is in us, this woman with a skull face
and feathers for hair.

She rises over the bones of her past
with a slow shield
and a fast axe.

From the crest of her walking stick,
hair streams in the wind
as though head and staff
have traded adornment.

She has painted detachment on her face
and tucked emotions under a skin cloak
shredded by the teeth of her life.

She wears her seeds
wound around her long throat,
streaming down her front
to end in a pendant
made from bones
whose stories
only she
knows.

Behind her and beside her,
the skeletons of her memories
and riches
in hide pouches.

With few secrets left,
she stands sentinel
on the mountain.
If she could fly?
She has plucked
her wings
for ornament.

She
stands.

 

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