Pack a Lunch / Have a Picnic

Looks, to me, it’s gonna be

A good time, apple-shine, scent of pine day.

Polished and tasty,

Fresh from the

Morn’s cornucopian buffet.

Constant and steady,

No plans at the ready,

Completely at spontaneity’s call.

Go pack a lunch.

No, wait. Pack a basket,

Enough for a picnic.

To hell with it all.

Should we walk?

Should we drive?

Would we feel more alive

To set off in directions

Completely unknown?

Do we seek out a place where

The clock stops at midday

With nary a worry about

Getting back home?

We enjoy our repast

From the first to the last

As frivolous time slips slowly away.

And the treasures we found,

Both sweet and profound.

Pack a lunch.

Have a picnic.

Savor the day.

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Another Day

Woke up,

Got up, business done.

Ready for another day.

Brush away the overnight

And damn the light

And the mirrors display.

And though I know

I look a fright

With bedroom hair

And droopy stare,

I fake a smile and stumble to

The kitchen in my underwear.

Coffee on.

Pills to take.

Fill a cup of each.

Socks and shoes,

A little news and

Step into the breach.

What grand adventures do await

To carry me away?

Tis grace that’s granted me

The sunrise of

Another day.

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Young and Foolish

I would never have guessed that

Getting old would come so soon.

Wasn’t it just yesterday that

High School hijinks were the rule?

So clear in fond reflection are

Those carefree days of Brigadoon.

They sparkle in my memory as

A brightly polished jewel.

And you, my friend, cannot deny

The mischief of our genesis.

We were so young and foolish,

Never counting danger’s cost.

No dare of double-dog did we

Let pass without remiss.

Head over backside we would tumble

Once the gauntlet had been tossed.

 

Looking back and looking forward,

Reckless youth and

Feckless folly.

Lessons learned from dangers spurned

Spared our youth from melancholy.

The what and how, the then, the now

Defined our destiny.

That we survived and somehow thrived

Is still an utter mystery.

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Maybe a Miracle

Whatever happened to
That side-fund we had saved
For rainy days?
Oh yes, repairs were necessary.
Bid goodbye to that outlay.
But didn’t I work extra hours
And resolve to change my ways?
Oh, yes, the medicines were costly.
There were doctor bills to pay.

The rent is due.
Utilities are soaring through the roof.
Excuses flow til I don’t know
A falsehood from the truth.
Friends are mute or
Resolute they cannot lend a note.
They seem to be in
The same sea
If not in the same boat.

No doubt these miseries will pass.
Alas, we’ll see it through.
Maybe the gods will smile
And send a miracle…
Or two.

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I’ve Changed My Mind

Woke up this spry misty morning
Restless to change the ho-hum of my life.
Bored with the humdrum/doldrums that’s
Plagued for so long.

Spoke up to issue fair warning
To any who might try to add to my strife.
Nothing and no one allowed to
Silence my song.

Yesterday’s sorrows are still there,
A constant companion wherever I go.
A badge I wear pinned to my heart
Next to your memory.
And all my tomorrows are threadbare,
Fallow, unchanged, unintended to grow.
Day after day after
Long lonely day
Yesterday is all I can see.

But you wouldn’t want me to
Carry that burden,
Living my life in a haze. So,
I woke up this morning and
I’ve changed my mind
To start living the rest of my days.

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Wake Up Morning

Good morning, morning.
Time to get up.
I’ve been marking time all night for you.
Come alive with the shimmer of
Daybreak on dewdrops,
Bidding the moon and the stars
Fond adieu.

The robins have found you
And croon your arrival
With subtle sweet smooth serenade.
And as ebony morphs into
Crystal clear dawning
The shadows of night gently fade.

I sit with my coffee cup
Anticipating as lush aromatics bid
Senses to hurry, 
To hasten the sunrise without
Brash dramatics
That send the day reeling and
Lost in a flurry.

Warm as a summer breeze.
Soft as a pup.
Good morning, morning.
It’s time to get up.

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The Heart Never Lies

Go with your gut.
Go with your head.
Go with your heart where it leads.
Life in a rut.
Thoughts filled with dread.
Lost in a wildwood of copious trees.
Why be so needy?
Why be so greedy?
Why give a dingle at all?
No need to act
Until all of the facts have been
Spray-painted onto the wall.

Your gut is the first to speak,
Never shy, never meek.
Instinct akin to survival.
Then the head interjects
As the lines intersect
Til it becomes an archrival

But then the heart barters
For a cloudless new start seen 
Through open and welcoming eyes,
Where decisions ring true
As the color of blue
In a world where
The heart never lies.

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I Am the Eagle / The Dove

I rise above
The tallest trees.
You shall not know my name
And everything my eyes can see
I count as my domain.
No fear,
No anger,
No regrets
My stoic bearing cries.
No ruffled edge to engender tears
To stain my artic eyes.

Comes the darkness of despondence,
Comes the challenge to the fore,
Comes the portal to safe refuge
You may seek forevermore.
I will give you wings of comfort
Though my phantom soars above.
Ever watchful as your eagle,
Ever faithful as your dove.

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No More Mountains

I wish there were more mountaintops
That we could scale together.
We crossed so many peaks and valleys
In our precious time.
No obstacle could block our path,
No worries of the weather.
We dared the lightening and the winds
Collecting memories in our prime.

Though mountains turned to rolling hills
In our lounging later years,
Still we strolled them
Hand in hand
Gazing at the sunset’s fade.

When at last the path became
Too difficult for you to bear
We rested in our solitude and
Held each other unafraid.

Now you rest o higher ground
In rapture’s paradigm.
No more heartache. No more pain.
No more mountains left to climb.

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We Ain’t Spring Chickens Anymore

“Time was I could….”
Yeah, I’ve heard it all before.
Way back then when I was Superman
I’d bust through any door.
Drive my Chevrolet
Til the break of day.
Dance the band right off the floor.
But regrettably time has passed and we
Ain’t spring chickens anymore.

Times were really good back then
When gals were gals
And mem were men.
We’d chase each other round the bend
And never lose a beat.
Summer spent on crystal lakes
Swimming til our muscles ached,
We’d leave no promise in our wake,
No dragons to defeat.

Oh, how I long to harken back to
Winsome days and nights of yore,
But senescence changes everything
And…
We ain’t spring chickens anymore

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The Jokester

Punster, prankster,
Life of the party
Flitting from pillar to post
In your duty.
Ringmaster, court jester,
Orchestra leader.
No sacred cows in your
Meadows to graze.

Quick to react,
Alert to respond,
Never a case
To be haughty or snooty.
No false excuses are
Deemed necessary, like
“Oh, he’s just teasing,” or
“It’s just a phase.”

But take care, oh, fearless one.
Not every mark shares
The humor you lavishly spread.
Your feckless buffoonery
To the wrong person
Could engender issues of dread.

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Cigarettes are Disgusting

Don’t know why I ever got started.
Some misguided peer pressure
I suppose.
Blame it on Uncle Sam.
Blame it on weakness.
Blatant stupidity slurped up the nose.

Took me a few years of
Sucking on stupid sticks to
Reach the roof of
Reality’s realm.
Thankful to quit before
Throes of addiction
Shackled my will
Until overwhelmed.

You see,
I’ve lived long enough
I can make the rebuff to
Any case one might present.
I’ve seen what it does
To the ones that I love
In the final days of their lament.

One thing for certain
On that final curtain
(And in this you can place all your trust.)
Regrets will consume,
Inundating the room
And end your days filled with disgust.

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The Night Shift (Sundowning)

Everything changes at sundown.
Some trigger,
     Some toggle,
          Some shivering switch is thrown.
Up becomes down,
In turns to out,
A blood-thunder chill that goes
Straight to the bone.

Not sure the reason, but then
No one knows why
A brain-numbing chaos
Holds hands with the dark,
Or what raises fear to
A whole other level.
Escaping the jaws of
The great phantom shark.

I only can soothe and assure and
Assuage any angst
That may torment
A befuddled brow.
Pray for the morning,
For clarity’s purchase, and
The strength to get through this…
Somehow.

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Hope, Never Lost

Ah, hope.
That noble enigma whose arms
Reach up to a winsome sky,
Favored and flavored with
Peppermint sticks.
Soft as the sound of
A sweet lullaby.
“If only. If only,” she gently whispers
With feather-like tickles
That tantalize,
While tossing a penny into a fountain,
Then patiently waiting to glean
Kismet’s prize.

Where would I be
Without your silent kisses
Tactfully tempting by
Subtle design?
Oh, patron of dreamers,
Siren of seekers,
I never shall lose you.
You’ll always be mine.

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Support System

Who would’ve thought
The need would arise for
The solace of caring
In empathy’s eyes?

You know. You’ve
All been there
One time or another
In tragedy’s aftermath,
Quick to discover.

The gathering round, the
Deafening sound of
The silent travail
Where no comfort is found.

But comfort takes time
And a shoulder or two
Or three or more
Before peace might ensue.

It might be a look,
A tangible tear,
A simple. “I’m here,”
Whispered softly in ear.

And thankful should be
For this harbor, this port,
This rallying system of
Loving support.

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It’s Okay

It’s okay to let go…
Even though your heart cries out
To cling with every ounce of
Fitful courage you can muster,
“One more hour.
One more day.
One more precious memory.”
Knowing that without you
Life would surely
Lose its luster.

Through the pain
Your brow unbent,
Unfading smile
Etched on your face.
So adored, my haloed hero,
If only I could take your place.

Asking the travail be finished.
Longing, yearning not to go.
So afraid to leave behind
The precious few to pine away.
Worried for your one true love,
A ghost ship lost without a sail.
Don’t fear, my love.
We’ll meet again.
Don’t worry now.
It’s okay.

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Waiting to Go

I’m ready.
     Been ready seems like
Hours ago.
Now sitting,
     Now pacing and
Waiting to go.

If we’re late
(Which I hate)
The blame is not mine.
Rock steady,
            I’m ready
To make it on time.

I ask,
            But you task
Just a few minutes more.
So I wait
(Which I hate)
Til the sweat starts to pour.

But I must confess
That any duress disappears
When at long last you show.
Who cares if we’re late?
You were well worth the
Wait and the worry of 
Waiting to go.

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Making Memories

It didn’t seem like much at the time,
Just a simple outing on
A ho-hum day.
Winging the moment could
Scarcely cover it
With sunshine inviting us
Come out to play.

“Hey, Ho!” Coos the docile dove.
“Come share my morning song.
Fly by my side as adventures ensue.”
We seek out the old and familiar
To cheer us or
Drift chasing rainbows with
Brash derring-do.

And the treasure unearthed
Is not squandered in mirth,
Rather tucked away somewhere inside
Until we reminisce
Of the fine times we miss
And the memories we wear with pride.

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Socializing

Bands of bustling busy bees
All hovering round the honey hive,
Deposit golden nectar in
Her long and layered filigree.
Stepping over and around 
They flit and fly from one to next
Bound to networks unintended,
Unimagined to degree.

Born on instinct,
Second nature,
Thinking but an afterthought
Fraught with mindless chitter-chatter,
He said, she said, they said, we….
Bounding round to meet and mingle,
Chasing schedules round the bend.
Won’t you stay a little longer?
Have another cup of tea.

Bound by lot a social creature,
Needful of discourse and touch.
Never meant to be an island
Hiding in an endless sea.

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Quiet Music

Melodies linger as
Harmonies soothe
In the bosom of eventide’s
Gentle repose.
The fluttering violins
Butterfly softly from
Flower to flower
Tickling the ear.

Who painted this portrait of
Sweetest quiescence 
(Lost in warm remedy)
God only knows.
Coaxed as the winding stream
Flows by the willows
Softening sorrows,
Quelling all fear.

Choirs of angels breathe airily,
Blending harp strings and flute
Til the aria glows
In a world where the mind
Can only bear witness
And naught but the spirit
Can easily hear.

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Falling

Feckless fear is a wretched companion.
Fear of strangers, fear of loss,
The quivering fear of being alone.
But worlds come undone
And time relents meaning
When the canon of gravity bullies its’ reign.

Quickly,
So quickly, hard objects propel
To strike supple flesh
And break brittle bone
With a feeling more like a
Film in slow motion,
Played out in agony,
Pushed to the pain.

So unlike the youthful thrill.
The exhilaration of unfettered flight
Through billowing clouds,
Though common sense might
Speak to the mind to declare it insane.

The wisdom of age grows a
Widening respect for 
The art and the need of
Remaining upright.
For the mischief of falling
Brings dire consequence.
A poor worthless beggar
With nothing to gain.

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Breathing: It’s Not Overrated

So often taken for granted,
This grand involuntary deed,
This giving and surrendering of
Life-spring’s first and living’s last.

Little more than afterthought,
Hardly noticed,
Seldom lauded,
But oh, so very necessary
For the now,
The when,
The past.

How many of you shall I be gifted?
Tis only one who holds that key.
So, I shall savor every one
As though it were a sweet repast.

And when the play is over
And all the players are applauded,
Tis you, the star, shall rise above
And I but a player in the cast.

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If There’s Anything I Can Do

Hard times wield an angry hammer
Without conscience or discretion. 
Blind side strikes with
Steely stealth and noxious
Brutish attitude.

Havoc grabs the rein and leaves the gypsy
Lost without direction,
Traveling in a downward spiral
Into silent solitude.

Comes a voice in tainted warning,
Ominous in its inflection,
Mettle-gauging caterwauling
Bent on testing fortitude.

Subtleties and undertones
Defy all efforts of detection
Until the veil is lifted
So the truth is unsubdued.

And if by chance my being there
Can offer solace or protection,
My hand is held in offering
If there’s anything that I can do.

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Comforting Words

Pain can possess
And redouble its sorrow.
Faced with a loss too enormous for knowing,
Feet fail
As backbones can’t carry the weight,
And eyes wash the riverbanks
To overflowing.

Silence sits colorless,
Listens only to itself.
No one wants to break its spell
With sullen gush of mindless voice.

But grows a need for duologue,
A word of comfort from a friend
Framed by simple elegance,
The proper time. The perfect choice.

“I’m here.”
“Don’t fear.”
“You’re not alone.”
“We’ll make it through this dark unknown.”
“Come sit a while and reminisce of
All the good times you were blessed.”

Don’t let your thoughts in sadness dwell
As all around you wish you well.
The supple heart, in time, can mend
With words of comfort from a friend.

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