Write A Poem

Write a poem on a chocolate morning
when the parakeets are trading recipes
and the cat’s already into the beer.

Write a poem at noon when the bacon
leaps from the fridge and fries itself into
a frenzy of hip-shaking mardigras magic.

Write a poem in the mashed potatoes
stuffed into the hollows of old oaks and
clumped onto the thighs of the moon.

Sleep ten days. Wake and write a poem
on the rejuevenated skin of your cheeks
all plump with vikings in pink velvet.

And since fives are magical… write a
fifth poem on palmetto leaf at the dinosaur
disco your dreams will dance in tonight.

whooohooo, one for Tuesday Open Link Night at dVerse Poets.

xoxoxo

Ye olde traveling dinosaur show, Galveston, TX, August 2010.

A Purring Cat Reminds You

A purring cat who’s overtaken

the most comfy part of your chair

reminds you you’re loved completely.

A parakeet-curious cat reminds you

to be extra vigilant while those birdies

hang out and write with you during the day.

A dancing cat reminds you that

pansies are always blooming somewhere

and heaven ever giving birth to stars within you.

It’s Tuesday! Whooohoooo.

The dVerse Poets are alive and rockin’!

And worry not — no parakeets or cats were harmed in the creation of this post.

xoxoxoxoxo

Upon Hearing Karen Carpenter Harmonies In My Head

I think of Karen Carpenter sometimes

as I suppose we all do now and then as

we’re sailing under leaves of the day.

I think how she never sang an off note

yet battled with love and mirror troubles

while I — of sound body, love and mind

(well, much of my mind,)

🙂

am still learning to sing.

(But almost there now!)

I am grateful Karen sang.

And grateful for our newly rescued

parakeets I’m still getting to know and

they getting to know us Funster gang.

With Mieshka really wanting to

get to know them very very well.

“Parakeet Watcher,” I call that.

Kelly took it Christmas morning

with her new phone from Santa.

And now, I’ll sit with my good camera

from Mieshka’s sofa vantage point and

show you where our new buddies are…

Then…

get a lot closer… 

I love them so much already!!!

Gonna get them a bigger cage.

And to thicken this poetic plot… many of you know Jim built this room with his own two hands, from framing to trim.

Here he was in 1995…

poem ended ~~~ several diversions back.

🙂

Yay, for dVerse Poetry Tuesday Open Link Land!  Wheeeeeee-heeee.

(Top photo of  leaves is a background Kelly got from some app or another.) Pretty!

Take care!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

In The Sherwood Forest Clearing — a 55 word fiction

Past the warlock, the blacksmith,
ye olde “Ale & Turkey Drumstick”
and the jousters down the lane

we chanced upon a slumbering sprite in the wood.

Later we floated
back over the corn stubble field

to some internal combustion machine
or another, to sail home into the sunset
with the wind whipping our rigging

in 6/8 time gypsy hip-shaking tambourine. 

And 5 additions to this 55 words of fiction for the G-Man…

1. 3 iPhone photos from that Renaissance Fayre — back when my pix were a mere 740px wide. 🙂

2. The boots belonged to the sleeping angel girl’s brother.

3. Fun is good.

4. Love is good.

5. Ale is good.

xoxooxoxoxoxo

Okay! 6 things…

I get to go back into the recording studio next week to sing, so…

if my blog-hoppping is sparse until then…

please know that I and the music of the leaves up laughing in the trees are writing lyrics for you.

🙂

xoxoxo

There Were Poets

There were poets

rambling in attics

all night while

most townsfolk

were dreaming

of square-riggers

they might one

day gallivant to

new shores on.

There were poets

stashed in closets

with lamps sooting

up wool coats that

hadn’t seen the light

of day since uncles

they’d never meet

sailed to wars they’d

never return from.

There were poets

peeling potatoes.

Poets spilling out

of every coal shed

and cathedral.

Poets dreaming

in every hayfield,

carpentry shop,

and apple tree in

every village since

Cromagnon Mike

fell for the moon,

— all so content

in their gardens

of paper and ink.

Now there are poets

dancing with ghosts

in computers and

poets texting from

palaces and planes.

Now there are poets

roller skating naked

with caramel no-fat

mocha lattes in one

hand, and organic

tofu banana cashew

muffins in the other.

Poets laughing always.

Poets then.

Poets now.

Poets forever,

sure as heaven

is stitched into

everything good

we’ll ever know.

My Tuesday Open Link Night offering for dVerse Poets.

whoooohoooooo.

xoxooxxo

And oh my freaking cow — I’m number TWO on the Mr Linky this week! What a thrill, whooohooooo.