Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

Dental Intermissions

Image from Pinterest.

Dental Intermissions                                  

There’s nothing quite so fundamental
when it comes to matters dental
as the fact that teeth gone missing
mar the esthetics of kissing.

It’s doubtful that a dental gap
would land a lass upon the lap
of any lad whose reminiscing
will be done with s’s hissing.

Potential lovers tend to hate
suitors of the toothless state.
Better they should duplicate
those teeth that happened to vacate

those facial places deep inside
the mouths wherein they should reside.
Teeth should be natives of the jaws
that reside within the maws

of suitors that might deign to woo—
to hug and kiss and bill and coo.

In short, what lass does less than censure
a suitor who forgets his denture?

 

Prompt words today are missing, duplicate, native, fundamental and doubtful.

Mourning Matins

 

Mourning Matins

Lately,
it is nightbirds

who prematurely voice
the matins of my day.

I keep knocking myself

against hard surfaces

and all my wounds

are in the shapes of hearts.

Anyone more emotional than you
might feel my pain.

This caring for you

is not simple anymore.

I arise too early

and it makes the day too long.

Prompt words for today are simplicity, anyone, emotional, matinal and caring. Also, for dVerse Poets and Bird of the Day.

Tropical Gig

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Tropical Gig

A cricket and a katydid in need of some excitement
when the cold winds started, and with no other incitement,
set out on upon a sea journey, their ship an old guitar.
(It wasn’t very roomy. Oh, but it was yar!)

They christened her as Lulabelle after an old amor.
They thought they’d sail the whole wide world from shore to shore to shore.
Setting off from Mexico, they drifted with the breeze,
their water and provisions stacked up around their knees.

The cricket sang such lullabies. The katydid chimed in,
a catfish as a tagalong stroked rhythms on its fin.
Guileless in their motives, they sought no fame nor riches.
From port to port they drifted, with only minor glitches.

On Isla Mujeres, they met a small land crab
that had been used in research in an oceanic lab.
It lit up in the darkness with a thousand little lights.
And so they offered it a ride to light up starless nights.

They drifted off to Cuba atop an ocean swell,
telling all the stories that they had to tell.
Traitorous loves and conquests, flight through the summer night.
The sand crab told of capture after a valiant fight.

The cricket had such stories of houses he’d been in.
The katydid could mime a leaf: long and green and thin.
When they made their music, the crab just clacked its claws.
All night they chirred and clattered—sometimes without a pause.

By the time they got to Cuba, they had a stirring act.
They drew the gulls and pelicans to listen—it’s a fact!
They got a gig in Havana, playing in a bar,
drawing folks to hear them from both near and far.

The cricket’s name is Chirrup and and Katydid is Slim.
The Crab’s name is Oblongus—based on the shape of him.
Their act can be heard nightly in the ocean dunes,
where they will serenade you with their blended tunes.

 

 

 

Prompt words for today are guitar, guileless, traitor, research and excitement.

Why Second-hand Adventure is Good Enough for Me

(Click photos to enlarge and read captions.)

Why Second-hand Adventure is Good Enough for Me

There was a time in college when we thought we would go camping.
It took  a lot of packing and some walking and some stamping
to rid the site of red ants and to cut away the bushes,
to find a level spot for our bedrolls and our tushes.
It’s good that we were youthful, and accustomed to reversal,
for when it came to camping, this was our first rehearsal.

None of us were nature girls. This was our trial run.
We came for something different, just to have some fun.
We brought a giant bottle of cheap rosé and chips.
Some white bread and bologna. Some mustard and some dips.
Our hopes were grand and hopeful. We were fervid in our dreams.
We lugged all our equipment down faint trails and forded streams.

Lugging a giant cooler, water and some some spray
in case there were mosquitos, slowly we made our way
down to small rude patch of ground that sloped down to the creek.
 My German Shepherd Gretchen went ahead of us to seek
out squirrels and other wildlife that she had a chance to get,
scouting ahead for creatures that might have posed a threat.

The day passed without conflict. We hiked and talked and ate.
We had no trepidation about what would be our fate.
Our night was spent less pleasantly as we slowly slipped
downward hour by hour until finally we dipped
our feet into the water of the creek just down the hill.
Certainly by sunrise, we three had had our fill

of the stones and bugs and soakings that we all had  faced
as all night long my dog barked, ran back and forth and chased
imaginary creatures hidden in the dark
In the end, our camping wasn’t such a lark.
We had a hasty breakfast and as we packed up our gear,
we apologized to others camping far and near

for my dog’s disturbance for the whole long night.
from the first star’s appearance to the first morning light.

And then they told us something we hadn’t known before.
We were camping in bear territory, and they said, “What’s more,
if you had foodstuff with you, your dog did you a favor.
Bears are very partial to young ladies of your flavor!”
And so that first time camping turned out to be our last.
Our setting up went rather slow, but breaking down went fast.
We packed our car and sped right down those twisted mountain roads,
right back to the city. Right back to our abodes.
I gave the dog a juicy bone and flipped on the TV,
sure that second-hand adventure was good enough for me.

 

Prompt words today are fervid, reverse, youthful, giant and camping.

This was a real-life adventure with my good friends Jean and Joan Lenzi who were twins and my college roommates. R.I.P. Jean and Joan. We had many adventures together and this was one of the first ones.

Calling Trump

Calling Trump

No remnant of credibility that he might have had
at the start of his dark odyssey clings to this foolish cad.
Claiming to solve problems that his actions just exacerbate,
mere echoes of his words still chide enough that they infuriate.

Of the seven deadly sins, he’s had a taste of all.
When, if they are so deadly, will they bring about his fall?
Lust and gluttony? For sure. Greed? No doubt about it.
Sloth and wrath, envy and pride? What sane man would doubt it?

He’s left his presidential desk, preferring his own throne.
He borrows other people’s deeds to claim them as his own.
He manufactures science, quoting no valid source.
Lessens the force of hurricanes while altering their course.

There’s nothing that he cannot do, at least in his own mind.
To serve his ends, he’ll put entire countries in a bind.
He’ll trump the hand of anyone. This game is not so hard.
If it’s lacking in his hand, he’ll just invent the card!

 

Today’s prompt words are infuriate, borrow, odyssey, remnant and seven.

Memory Games

Memory Games

Half over-achiever, my other part is zen.
Sometimes I concentrate on now, other times, where I’ve been.
This morning’s evanescent. I can’t remember shit.
I know I found my car key but what did I do with it?

Ameliorating circumstances? Sorry. There are none.
I simply have no memory of what  I have just done.
I know I wrote a poem, but I can’t recall a bit.
I haven’t the foggiest memory of what I said in it!

It’s said I have good judgment and a judicious mind,
but as to short-term memory? I fear I’m in a bind.
I remember blow-for-blow what happened as a child.
My college years I recall well. My twenties are well-filed.

When I write, the memories pop readily to my brain.
It’s only hours later that the memories don’t remain
of what I have just written or the words that I have used.
The present and my recent past simply are not fused.

So if you want a memory, please choose one in my past.
The farther back, the better, if you want my reply fast.
Fifty years ago are fine. The details I’ll relate.
But details of this morning? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.

Prompt words today are ameliorate, judicious, zen, evanescent and bit.

Reckless in Retrospect

Reckless in Retrospect

I’d love to be spontaneous, spur-of-the moment, rash—
to burn my candle at both ends, right down to the ash.
Impulsive and incautious, impetuous and careless.
Have hair-raising adventures up to the time I’m hairless.

But I was born of parents both dependable and prudent.
I was a cautious driver and a conscientious student.
I planned my life out to a “T,” kept calendars and planners.
I wore my skirts down to my knees and always watched my manners.

If perfect is as perfect does, by now I’d be a saint.
The only problem is, in spite of all of this, I ain’t!!!
I might as well have had some fun and risked a wrong decision.
For after all of this, I’ve found there’s scant fun in precision.

The prompt word still unpublished when I wrote my prompt poem this morning was spontaneous. Here it is, in a poem all its own.