There is no glory in just managing
And small reward for only trying.
Flags cannot be proudly planted
Only half way up the mountain.

Footprints must be left in concrete
Never in the sand of trends
Where tides of fancy wash across them
With only ripples left behind.

Hearts blood must be spilled on altars
Situated in the realm of wonder
Never on the mundane pathways  
Always walked across by Rabble.

Raising up the tallest flagpole
Is a useless exercise
Unless the banner hung upon it
Imparts healing to the masses.

A follower is not the leader.
The helper never wins the crown.
The one who fires the starting gun
Is not the one who wins the race.

There is no gold in rocky caverns
That have all been dug before.
Diamonds can be manufactured
But their shine is not the same.

All that’s left is conquering
Impediments that bar the way
To ribbons, crowns and accolades
That etch your name in history
        ljm

I offered you my hand - you spit in it
I said I’d walk along with you - you tripped me and I fell
I tried to sing the song you wrote - you unplugged the microphone
I told the world how great you are - you told them I’m a liar

I tried to follow on your path - you covered it with broken glass
I sent you every cent I owned - you never cashed the check
I mailed you all my hopes and dreams - it came back postage due
I got the message finally - I gathered up my love and walked away
                   ljm

Oh my. I made a booboo.  I said in my interview that I had played Bardo's word game in the past.  Well it was actually BLT's word game, and I hadn't played it recently so I had a senior moment and credited it to Bardo, another HP friend, who hastened to tell me of my error.
I apologize to BLT and hope he'll forgive me, both for denying him his credit due and also for not keeping on playing the word game.
If you've never joined the fun, google Merriam Webster's word of the day and use it in a write.  If you do, let BLT know, as  he keeps a log.
If you need an example, look at things written by Anais Vionet.  She is a master at it. Again....apologies to my dear friend BLT.

The tide goes out, and comes a little further in.
The tiny waves don’t make it past
The pebbles in the sand.
They just sink in and disappear.

The rubber ball mistakenly
Tossed out into the churning sea
Recedes and then it reappears
Always just a little out of reach.

Teasingly it comes and goes.
Soon it becomes invisible
Amidst the foaming of the brine.
And likely is forever gone

Unless it manages to journey
To that far and distant shore
Where little hands will gladly grasp it
And the end turns into a beginning.
             ljm

It’s never gonna be my turn
I stand in line and pay my fare
But the bus is full when I get there
And someone else is in my seat.
ljm

I find your pecuniary longings
To be so overcoming that
you have become porcine in
your search for it. Wealth is not
some truffle that can be rooted
out of the ground or society.
You might do well to ruminate
on the profundity of this statement.
                 ljm

Harlan never ever died.  
His words still burn like ******,
Scalding minds that revel in their rut.

He saw behind the curtain long before
The Tin Man or the scarecrow did
And he shouted out the travesties
That everyone refused to see.

His acid pen made pages boil
And much of it splashed over him
Creating scars that in my gentle fingers
I could never heal.

He created mountains where none were
And scaled them to the accolades
He made it known that he deserved.

I rode the wind with him for just a while
Though he offered me forever
It seemed too shiny for my eyes
And I blinked and turned aside
To stand and watch his comet soar.

He one day met a flameproof soul
And lept into the multiverse
With sound and fury as his steed
And her his tether to civility.

I  loved to share his meteor
As it began it’s wild ascent
I thrilled to watch it blaze the years
And see him tear the strictures down.
And even as his comet died
It took a bit of me along
To the place World-beaters go
When it is time to take a rest.
                               LJM

My rope is stretched to a single thread
How did all the woven strands dissolve
The wind is howling in the attic and
My guardian angel is on vacation.

The furies do a Samba in my cortex
And my feet can only do a do-si-do.
The doorbell plays Westminster Chimes
But only ghosts are on the porch.

That Other Place sneaks up to grab me
I’m never sure if I’ll come back
I speak to air and reach for nothing
As I realize that I am back.
I never plan to be there, instead of here
But the minute concentration lags
I’m living in another place and life
If only for ten seconds - an eternity.

I struggle to remember where I was
And what I said and what I did and
Who was there, and what we spoke of
But it vanishes to make way for here.

It leaves me puzzled and afraid.
It happens to nobody else
And I’m alone in stormy skies
Without a light to guide me.  

Am I crazy?  Probably.
What is this place I visit?
I think it’s called insanity
And soon I fear I’ll live there.
                ljm

Wasted paper - murdered trees
Must such beauty die for memos
Write a line and toss the page -
One more branch is sacrificed
To fill the dumps with litter.
Copy things no one will read;
The forest is diminished
And all that we have left to breathe
Is the death sigh of the Amazon
ljm

There is no need to shout at us-
If your words paint a picture we will see it.
We can squint and peer through lowered lids
And find the image in a myriad of dots.

It is not necessary that you push us-
We will follow if you gently lead, and find the storm
As fierce and moving as you think you need
To act out with your thunder voice and flailing arms.

Inflection works a well as histrionics,
And a subtle tone allows us space to build
The structures that your words describe.
There is no need to hammer us.

Singsong forces us to wade into the stream
And wield our nets of understanding endlessly
In hopes of capturing like silvered fish
The thoughts we’d rather cast for from the shore.

Just stand and calmly pull away
The drapes that hide the cake you wish to share.
In simple words divide it up
And we will eat it and be filled.
                      ljm

Gazing deep into the well
Where hope was thrown
With abandon so unthinking,
I see no small reflection
That could tell me if
The sun will shine again.

I see the place where parity
Was smashed against the wall
And opportunity ran down the shaft
And disappeared in darkness.

I have a penny that I brought
But I never got to toss it.
All the wishes it embraced
Are left there in my pocket.
          ljm.

I tried to think of someone I could venerate.
I listed all the names my mind could generate.

I thought about war heroes from the Middle East.
They should be listed near the very top at least.

I thought about the doctors and the Nurses.
They deserve our praise in many verses.

The First Responders all deserve applause
Their service never ever takes a pause.

Though there are many people I could laud,
The only one I venerate is God.
ljm

When I was young,
A reckless car
Careened into
A lampost.
No one was hurt-
They were just drunk.
My father
worked at his career
As  a dentist.
A sober family man,
He never went
Careering into
Any kind of post.
Somehow in the
Ensuing years
Those different words
Got married and
Combined their meaning;
Putting occupations
In the closet to
Be brought out
Occasionally, as needed.
ljm

FALLING SHORT  (10W)

The perfect apple-
Always too high up in the tree.



THE GIFT (10W)

I sent him my heart
He kept only the box.




COMMENTARY    (10W)

On days like today, I know
Chicken Little was right.




POLITICS (10W)

You can’t clean up the nation’s mess
With ***** hands.
           



AWARD  (10W)

Life is one big Daily struggle
To earn that crown.




NUMERALS  (11W)

Why must it be only ten -
Eleven’s a much luckier number
      ljm

Where have all the clowns gone
And the jugglers too.
I only walked down to the river
To sail a little paper boat
And when I returned
The picnic had been changed.

There were different people there
And no one knew my name
Or who told all the clowns to leave.
I found my brother and a friend
But they were both too sad to talk
Or tell me why the flowers died
And who ate all the chicken.

Too early for the fireworks show
There would be no sack races.
We waited for a three leg’d race
And learned the term was incorrect
And marked us as not truly woke.

The carousel began to move
And we lined up to take a ride
But it began to spin so fast
That no one could get on it.
The horses were all painted black
And lacking any sparkles.

Without the clowns and jugglers
The picnic was a total bust
And I felt it was time to go
But when I headed for the gate
It wasn’t where it used to be
And no one knew its whereabouts
So I’ve been wandering ever since
With no way to go home.
             ljm

A victim of Lethologica,
I find myself ransacking my brain
For common everyday words I need.

Do I seem a fool or dementia patient?
I am neither of those - not yet anyway.
But my bumbling efforts to be succinct
Fall by the wayside as I stare into space,
Hoping that the word I desperately need
Is somehow magically floating there,
And stammering red faced when it is not.

The only thing that keeps me sane
Is my vast storehouse of synonyms
That I dig out to fill in for the better word
My frantic ransack did not uncover.
ljm

Holding on so tightly to the final shreds of me
    I need to run and howl the forests down.
        I need to pound into submission
            Everything that jumps to bite me.
               I need to find a breath not gasping,
                  Hand on heart that isn’t racing,
                       Stomach free from panic acids.

Calamity stacked on disaster
   Perched atop catastrophe;
      Mishaps nestled in misfortune-
         Contretemps my middle name.

Fourteen traumas in a listing -
   Some stretch over several years.
     Stress points top the nation’s debt.
       Hated where I should be loved-
          Pushed harder when I should be resting;
             Attacked when I should be applauded-
                 Do I live in the Twilight Zone?

With the end of weeping, silence-
   Save the endless humming in my ears.
      Eyelids sore, too red and swollen
         Let the door and phone bells ring
            I have no things with which to answer.

How can fate keep spawning badness
   Coming up with innovative forms
      To slither out and trip me as I stagger by
         Trying to create tomorrow from the wreckage of today.
ljm

Synonyms for AFFLUENT include
Prosperous, which indicates
more coming-in than going-out.
It also includes Opulent, which
implies lush plenty at hand.
Also synonymous is Substantial
which suggests great amounts.
There’s even Rich, which can allude
to many different kinds of things.

Webster says these synonyms
of affluent always refer to
money on it’s many forms.  I disagree
They can also refer to vocabulary
The only treasure everyone can own.
You may not have a dime to spare
but you can write a verse that sings
and rhymes that make us cry
Just by using words that turn out
to be more valuable than gold.
ljm

Having finally climbed the ziggurat
Known as Bank of America
Customer’s-Non-Service
I was able to order checks.

Not the ones I wanted - oh no -
Somehow ‘they’ wouldn’t let me.
‘They’ being a recorded voice
That said I’m allowed four digits.

But my checks always need five
You cannot order those online -
You somehow have to phone it in.
So, resigned to this, I called.

After clicking one through five
Another robot lady’s voice
Then told me I can order those
By only going back on line.

I tried this several different ways.
It always ended up the same.
No matter which I tried they told me
I had to use the other way.

At painful length I gave it up
And ordered checks with just four numbers,
Starting at quadruple seven
So I can tell them from the rest.

Yesterday my order came
I opened it and felt despair
The checks were not the size I’m used to
And useless to me in my work.

2
Back to the phone’s robotic voice
To stumble on a lucky click
And get Patricia on the line -
A person who could help me out.

Telling her my tale of sorrow,
She promised to replace the checks
With ones in the requested size.
Then as a bonus offered me

Checks that count up in five digits,
Starting where my last ones stopped.
Oh Hosannah in the Highest -
Patricia’s now my Patron Saint.

Banking is a trial by fire
Though they shout convenient
All they’ve done is make it harder
With the loss of human contact.
ljm

I remember
the me I was from
traces
I trip over daily
Brief flashes
of the insight
and ability to
share
that made me
someone of value.

Moments of vocal
clarity
that put together
two and two
and it always
came out
four.

Flashes of satyric
humor
that nailed its
subject
to the floor
and walked on it.

A momentarily
brimming mind
with all the
pieces
in their places.

But then
the fog rolls
in again
banishing
the clarity
blanketing the
ardor
making it
impossible
to be the one
I used to be.

Perhaps one
day
I won’t recall-
I’ll learn
to love the
fogginess
And find
the peace
that’s currently
eluding me.
            ljm

Fading
Like a beauty queen
Grown old,
Sunrise is too quckly over.
ljm

Reading ten incisive and astute poems in a row
I look around to see if I can join in that parade.
I wear my 20-20 glasses in order to observe
The indelible accomplishments around me;
But all I see is Major Quincy Bilbo Hum
Always followed close behind by
Gunny Sargent Aloysius Drum.
The recruitment center seems to be shut down
So I’ll just write a letter to my mom instead.
    ljm

To enjoy the past without the need
Of moving there with trunk and suitcase.
To recall any tragic times gone by
Without the gasping tears of sorrow.
To relive the many precious moments
But not put up a tent and stay there.
To fight the long ago won battles
Once again without the hate and malice.
To revel in the youth and vigor
Of another long gone time and day,
But only stop by for a visit there,
To spend a pleasant while and leave.
To travel back to now and be content.
Remembering the purple velvet petaled pansies,
And the roses in the silver moonlight,
But then go out and water the petunias of today.

ljm

Lured by the understated enticements
Of the fog that curls around my efforts,
I’m wondering if that could be the answer
To the questions that I’ve never ever asked.

There doesn’t always seem to be a floor
At the very bottom of the staircase,
So I’m wondering what I will find
When I step off of the bottom step.
            ljm

A week away from the TV set
Is the normal world still there?
Or has the madman burned it down
On his latest crazy tear.

We miss the roundup on the news
It’s different every night.
The elephant’s still cry witch hunt
While the donkeys do what’s right.

He’s angered every friend we have.
He doesn’t know a thing.
He never gives a single thought
To what his antics bring.

He kow-tows to our enemies,
He’d like to be like them
And rule with no one saying ‘stop’
To his next crazy whim.

He’s going to light a world wide fire
The middle class in flames
The wealthy standing by to watch
Like they were seeing games.

Hated by the civil world
He couldn’t give a toss
He wants a place in history
No matter what the cost.

He is already number one
In White House Loser’s polls.
He hopes to guarantee his place
With armies of red trolls.

If we don’t  show him the door
He’ll do what he does best
He’ll lead this country into war
And we’ll die with the rest.
                         ljm

Small on the skyline,
This beautiful ship I’ve launched-
Testing the waters and her seaworthiness.
I stand on shore and strain to see
The sun glint off her sails as they unfurl,
It won’t be long before the horizon
Reaches out and takes her from my sight.

And yet she circles back again,
To the safety of this harbor
Where the ocean gathers calm and still.
But I know the tide is freshening
And the wind is for adventure.
I long to let her glide away but
It hurts too much to open up my fingers,
So I heave and pull on the mooring rope
Striving to keep her next to the pier-
Proud of the way she rides the swells-
Thrilled with the cut of her mainmast-
Excited with visions of where she can go-
Still I’m reluctant to bid her bon voyage.

For I have no ticket - this isn’t my trip,
I’ll have to be happy with postcards
From places mundane and wildly exotic-
Hoping she’s not out at sea too long and
That killer squalls don’t find her.

I’ve built her well - she’s sound and good.
There’s great common sense on the rudder.
The maps are laid out in orderly rows
And her spirit holds steady the sextant.

The tugs on the rope are outdoing my fingers
And I’ve had to begin to let go.
I must save some strength to lift hands in farewell
And keep vision clear through the teardrops.
        ljm

I love you.
I really do.
Honestly and cross my heart.
You’re my sweetie sugar Baby.
And I’m thrilled to be with you.
I don’t care about your money,
I’m just glad you have a lot.
It means we can do special things
And eat in fancy places
And you will know much I love you.
It means that we can travel
To exotic destinations
And I can show you how
I never notice other young men,
And how faithful I will always be.

I love you so much, Pookie Pie,
I really, really, truly do.
You mean everything to me
I don’t care about your mansion
It’s just a place to hang the
Couture clothing that you’ll buy me.
I won’t even see the maid
And the Gorgeous Spanish pool boy.
My eyes will only be on you
Especially as you buy the jewels
I didn’t have to ask for.
I hear the rumors and the whispers
About why we are together;
But I say poo-poo to them
You’re my sugar boo-boo-baby.
As long as you are happy spending,
You will know that I love you.
               ljm

You may feel so young and strong today
But eventually the years will have their way.

Youth is a gift that is often wasted
Thrown away before half of life is tasted.

Old Sol’s shadow moving on the sun dial
Won’t stop though you try using guile.

Time is a thing more valuable than gold
Money can’t keep you from ever growing old.

Puppies will grow old and die
Reminding you time’s passing by.

That means not a thing to you today
You’re all dressed up to go out and play.

Shadows are for old folks’ eyes
You know that you can win the prize.

You are full of vim and vigor
You know that your life will be bigger.

Nothing now can trip you up
You will win the loving cup.

And so you charge full steam ahead
With dreams of glory in your head.

You ramble through productive years
Engendering more smiles than tears.

You think it will go on forever-
Times of joy and proud endeavor.

You don’t see the years slip by
They pass in blinkings of your eye.

Then suddenly you’re sixty-eight-
They put retirement on your plate.

They do not need you any more
And show you to the nearest door.

You say that’s fine and you’ll just chill
But all too soon you’re falling ill.

One thing goes wrong then several more
Your favorite shop is the drug store.

With creaking joints and aching back
You face senility’s attack.

You wonder how the time has flown
And relish happiness you’ve known.

Until you hear the final gun
And know your race has all been run.
ljm

In the stony desert heat
The muse has blisters on her feet.
The blazing wind whips up her hair
Til she can’t see the crevice there
And falls headfirst into oblivion.
Perfect name for a sandy gully
She can not crawl out of.

Who will save the injured muse-
Give her water, bind her wound
Lead her back to safer ground
Give her parchment and her quill?
No one in this neighborhood
Of empty window, bolted doors.
I fear the muse is on her own.
ljm

From my 20’s through my 40’s I was the very definition of svelte. Willow thin but shapely, smartly dressed at all times in what would be the next new trend coming down the fashion pipeline. I mingled with people who dabbled in fame and some of it rubbed off on me. In those days I moved in exciting circles. It was painful to watch the years take it away, one increment at a time.  The waistline expanded, new styles appeared ugly, and star studded lovers moved on. I did what I could to hold onto the shine, but I found other mountains to climb.  I conquered new vistas and gathered some trophies, while minutes and years slipped away. So subtly I didn’t pay much attention, I became an old lady who hates having to dress for her age. And refuses.

I still have the photos that prove I was lovely, but no one is asking to see them. I still have the outfits that no longer fit me; they hang in the closet to taunt me.
I’ve learned to make peace with the milieu I live in.  I’m still the svelte damsel inside. I dress in bright colors and billowing fabrics and leave the self judgement behind.
ljm

In a world with far too many people
With way too many things to do
In so many places that are
Just too hard for them to get to,
We can only wait.

The traffic lights are slow to turn
And the phone is never answered.
The vending machine does not give change
And Fed-Ex never stops out front
Even though we wait.

In a world where real is mostly fake
And Fake becomes a brand name,
We spend the funds we do not have
On things we’ll never ever use,
Not even if we wait.

The processes that make things go
Are grinding to a halt.
The future mimics yesterday
And we can’t see tomorrow.
So we can only wait.
   ljm

They did it
A bunch of shriveled up old men
With shrunken *****
And withered hearts
Have proved to America
That it’s more important

To populate the world
With unwanted, unloved
Uncared for children
Who will be a burden
To society and the
Criminal justice system,

That their law is more important
Than to give a second chance
To a teenaged girl who
succumbed to the urging
Of her boyfriend for
fear of losing him.

That their law is more important
Than to give a mother
Of four, who’s IUD failed
A chance to raise those four
Without the need of welfare
And free school lunches.

That their law is more important
Than to give some solace
To the girl knocked up by her father
Or the woman brutally *****
As she walked home from church.

This ruling marks you all as thugs
Pompous, righteous hypocrites
Who all suppose that you can
Force your will on women by a law
That violates each tenet of the right
Of women to pursue happiness.
ljm

I enjoy all kinds of music
Though Country suits me best
I like to dance the Two-step
To the rhythms of the West

I  do enjoy Top 40
I play Long Hair in the car.
But when my heart is breakin’
I want to hear a steel guitar.

Jazz is not my thing at all
Least favorite by far
There is no sound in music
Better than a steel guitar

I went and learned to Disco
Though the two-step’s more my style
And I can handle RB sounds
If it’s only for a while

When I’m happy, I like boogie
When it’s played loud in a bar
But if my heart is achin’
Nothing beats a steel guitar

When everything’s considered
I like all the songs there are
But when my soul gets weary
I need to hear a steel guitar.
                            ls/ljm

Forty eight years of faithful service
Crumpled like a Kleenex and tossed away
By evil people with only ten names between them;
Forcing me to pack up all my grief and anger
And replat a blazing desert to make it be my home,

Far from where I’d ever want to be while
Deprived of what I’ve always loved to do
And surrounded by the things I do not like.
I had to replat the sand dunes of my very soul
To find a little valley where I hope to heal my hurt.
                            ljm

Dancing on the tightrope of a breakdown
I wonder just how good my balance is,
I teeter on the wire one careful footstep at a time.
I don’t look down; the solid concrete waits for me below
I can’t look left or right for fear I’ll lean and tip.
I focus on the other side but it’s not clearly seen-
Is it my eyes or has a fog rolled in to trick me-
To leave me stranded and precarious.
I’m developing a cramp and one toe has gone numb
But still I slide the other foot along
And grip with every particle of strength I own.
I have to make it all the way across
There is no net below to save me.
But the other platform seems so far away
And my umbrella feels as though it’s made of lead.
Why is there no cheering from the crowd-
I guess they’re fascinated by the clowns down there
And never ever bothered to look up.
ljm

She numbly sits in a ragged sleep shirt
Her life in tatters all around her,
Pieces scattered bent and broken
It’s cold and raining in her soul
And she lost her new umbrella.

Celebration banners flap in tatters
From the New Year party deemed long over.
Confetti pools in puddles at the curb
Staining rainbows in the murky water.
The echo of the midnight chime a memory.

Three hundred unfulfilling days await her
Should she stumble to her crippled feet
And stagger to the place that should be home.
But there will be no cocoa by the hearth fire
Or anything that might engage her mind
Except the fact that there will be no rescue.

Sitting numbly in her ragged sleep shirt
She has no thought of any better place
Available to someone with an injury like hers.
An wound that cripples ingenuity
And renders her unwelcome
In the tangled depths of her own mind.
        ljm

Is anyone teaching  A I  to pray?
Is it learning the Ten Commandments?
While we’re making them into mechanical Gods,
Have we introduced the two to each other?

                  ~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

Will a robot prove God is a myth
And assume that throne for itself.
Will a Robot create a different world
And people it with only machines.
ljm

One pill causes constipation,
And the other diarrhea-
My gut’s a mushroom shaping cloud
And the countdown has begun.
        ljm

My insinuation was the
Fabrication of an
Erroneous derivation
Lacking any Perspicacion
                 ljm

On the day I come unglued
And finally slip away
I hope the sky is freshly blue
Without a wisp of gray.

At the moment when my concert ends
And the final note is sung
I  hope I am with caring friends
And no black crepe’s been hung.

I want to simply disappear
To mingle with the wind.
I hope I sense when time is near
To bring things to an end

I’d hate to leave in gloom and rain
And hate it more in snow.
I do not want to cause more pain
Because It’s stormy when I go.
                                        ljm

If a flame begins to flicker
It must be tended to.
But you must not ever
Heap on so much wood
That it smothers the flame
And the fire goes totally out.
          ljm

I’ve spent half of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop
And the rest of my life picking it right back up again.
                       ljm

While walking in the woods one day
A Grizzly Bear came upon a grisly scene.
A Cougar had killed a Lumberjack
And was munching on his carcass.
The bear decided to join in, but soon
Opined the meat was far too gristly
So he deemed it grist for the Cougar
And he slowly walked away.
ljm

Stop berating
Start appreciating

Stop denigrating
Start Congratulating

Stop befuddling
Do more cuddling
ljm

Small pages, rimmed with foreign sounding orders
Splash on ink to make them monumental.
Block the wind that wafts them into yesterday
Where all the pills can’t heal a ****
That will not hold the stitches.

Little notebooks filled with sentences
Dug at great pain from a bruised and bloodied brain
Determined to lock away any sheen and glitter
On the every day and Sunday-Go-To-Meetin’ words
That put emotion on a platter instead of in a locked vault.
ljm

They were kissing on the beach
He wanted a whole lot more
She said no and pushed him off
Triggering the evil in his soul

He kicked her head
Til she didn’t move
Then pounded it with
A cinderblock
Until she was obviously dead

He dragged her down
To the ocean’s shore
And heaved her in
Like a sack of trash
Then calmly walked
Himself back home

I guess that is what
A guy’s supposed to do
When a girl refuses
His advances.

What kind of world
Are we living in
ljm