the perkiest bark from one tiny dog
cut through the woods near a cranberry bog
and I alone present to hear what he say
had let him go free without leash for a day

I then the keeper of this little mutt
again and too often within the same rut
Hey little guy, I'm right over here!!
just follow your nose, it should be very clear!!

from out of the woods then he tore with a squeal
leapt into my arms with a squirrel at his heel
never before had I seen such a sight
Teddy the Bear being filled with such fright.

The very next day I took him, I reckon
right back to the place of his fear, let it beckon
I've been in his shoes, and I know how it goes
think it's best to be done with your everyday woes.

So I set the dog down and I told to him to flee
and he ran like the wind and took off for a tree
and up the squirrel ran like a bat out of hell
old Teddy is back, and he's sure feeling well!

Semolina!
your'e the queena my cold morning
Sweet Farina!
Cream of Wheat without adorning
and no one makes it like my mom
who has a knack
for food transforming
she melts the butter in a lake
and the mountains are so warming

Semol----ina,
Semolina I love you

Sweet Wheatina!
how you stick with me
all morning
in the steama
from the ***
us kids were swarming
and we loved the one who
got us up
and sent us bundled off
to school
well you made us feel
much happier
since the lunch was not as cool

Semoli----na,
My Semolina
I love you
Semoli----na,
My Semolina
I love you

Semolina
well you're the queena my cold morning
and i do dreama
'bout how far you came
to warm me
cause your the creama
all the crops
grown out
in Italy
and I'm thankin
' God for
every grain
from you to me.

Semoli---na
Semolina, I love you
Semoli---na
Semolina, I love you

Semolina!

Looking back I couldn't see
he storm clouds rising up inside me
here alone I've faced a darker day
Hard to know where you begin, just like the rain
you touched my skin and suddenly I'm drenched
and looking for a place to hide away

With you, Ed, with you
Hide away with you, Ed, with you

Take me back to where you're from
and dry me off beneath the sun
and speak to me the words which turn cold winters into summer
Melt the ice within my heart, please make it safe
and never part my life with you is so much more
than what it was, a ******

With you, Ed,  with you
Summer fun with you, Ed, with you

Clouds move in and storms roll past
the darkness comes but never lasts
in suffering, somehow Grace has seen us through
and when we're tired of being kin
and threads of love are getting thin
whatever comes, I'm hangin' in with you

With you, Ed, with you
hangin out with you, Ed, with you

he waved her down to where he stood
but lost her in the neighborhood
of several hundred thousand other people
and by the time she found him there
his drink was lost, she couldn't care
she stood there drenched in sweat beneath the steeple

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no~

and never mind the dusty ground
with legs to watch, and Stanky Brown
is dragging through his medley, nasty fella
next time, carry her own chair
and iced cold water, put it there
a shady spot, not hot, beneath the 'brella

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no~

it's better now, she doesn't care, he'll find her here, or meet her where
the mist is cool, and nearer to the porties
she only wants to find her place, a laggard in the human race
and rather cold, she's old, for in her forties

whining eyes,
like her mother
he never knew it, but she cries
like no other
he'll see her through it
'til she dies

(bridge)

sometimes it takes you years to learn the smartest way is not to burn
though some folks like to hang out in the trenches
next time she will plan ahead and carry her own banner head and wave it high above the other wenches

these whining eyes,
like my mother
I never knew it,
but
she cries
like no other
I'll see her through it
'til she dies
oh no

She turned her mind toward thoughts of God
and pondered on this thing called 'Love'
and how it felt was rather odd
to have the thing she's dreaming of.

and not to say that much had changed
from all of what she'd felt before
but just my movement towards the thing
that gently rapped upon her door

and opening, the air was clean
and drifted into darkened mess
and brought with it the scent of spring
and promise that would lead to rest

the angry pride from early age
and pain she'd buried in the deep
once heated into molten rage
had turned to steel in my sleep

and stirring up the settled dust
the softest breeze swirled room to room,
the filtered light fell on the crust
the window sill, the broken loom

the cool fresh air, she breathed it in
which fanned the flames of hope again
but woke the sleeping child within
the bitter pill, the urge to sin

where were you when love was lost
and dreams were killed and hope was tossed
and where were you when I was nine
and lost my way and... one last time

I need to know where Love was when
the waves rushed in, and buildings fell
when kids were shot and parents grieved
and everything had gone to hell.

She could have slammed the door right then
He would have left, that's just His way,
she had to have it out with Him
and screamed and cried, but let Him stay.

I just don't get your kind of sense
which lets a man do what he will
to take away the innocence
to mock your name, and steal and ****.

And then the air stirred in her face
and quiet came to sandy shoal
he spoke of Love's abiding grace
and water flowed into her soul

"For what is better for your strife
and what is Love, to pull the reign
to force a man to choose the life
or nudge a man to use his brain?

And what is love to steal the bride
and drag her right outside the gait?
I set you free, you run inside
I chose you then, you chose to wait.

The war, it rages on within
the hurt from past, a frequent guest
your mind, a battleground has been
the place where you are also blessed.

You blame the Giver of the Gift
for fallen nature's heart attack
I've sent my only Son  to lift
this heavy burden from your back.

I hear you well, I understand
the breath you breathe, this rotting tomb
I died for you and every man
to give to you back your breathing room."

There was a time, I was a child
and I could climb the wooded wild
and see out over treetops way beyond this place called home
Now I am grown, can barely climb
but give me time and I will find
another way to rise above and see beyond this poem

The paths I loved when I was nine
are overgrown with thorny vine
and streams beside, which I would sit
polluted now and hardly fit
but give me time and I will find
another path, a sparkling stream
which winds around and satisfies
a quiet place where we can dream.

Where there's a will, there is a way
and there's a path that's yours today
and if you come upon a place that somehow seems impassable,
the answer still, the same today
That if you ask and if you pray
the things you hope for, come what may
will rarely seem impossible.

have you ever felt shot into space
with nothing to hold to without any trace
of the one who was always around
who could laugh really hard and without any sound

and you fear that someday he will see
that you're mind is a strange one indeed, yet it's free!
to be up in the air and then down
hear that music that plays like a carnival sound

and it's something that's deep in your soul
from the day you first met he's been making you whole
cause he won't let you feel afraid,
fix you up when you're ****** and knows his first aid

Five of us kids to take care of
and all within seven short years
Leno then Beano then Bonzo then Labo then Damo
all laughter and tears.

It seems that we share the same feelings
about our ol' dad, and it's said
much better to share them while we are alive
than to wait until after we're dead.
  
and so I will write about Daddy
and because I am long with my word
my poems I will say can go on for a day,
and a night or so that's what I've heard.

To Tony, Loretta would cater
she cooked for the man who would date her
they married and so, and what do you know
three children would come along later.

Born October two four, nineteen hundred
and twenty eighth year of our Lord
at home, the first child of Tony and Rhetts
baby Vinny, was cut from the cord.

This sweet little Vincent Morrone
raised up in by my Nonna and Tony
quickly stuck in his ways, from the start of his days
and could size up the truth from a phony.

He grew up in old Jersey City
where he polished the width of his witty
had a sister named Claire who remembers him there
dear old dad, handsome lad, and she's pretty.

Their brother was born sometime later
our sweet uncle Jerry Morrone
Handsome and good and well liked in the hood
got those genes and that same funny bone.

 After Highschool, staff sergeant in Air Force
guiding take offs and landings, his post
Four years of St Pete, put him smart on the street  
and he left for the likes of our coast.

He was offered a job down in Jackson
elementary dear Watson, it's said
he would fall for another young teacher, a screecher
whose sassiness got to his head

He married our mother, that's Jacquie
they really were some kind of a pair
she knew he was smart, liked his looks and his heart
and respected the good that was there.

So five days a week Dad would teach
and he liked those nine months of the year
but he lived for the summers at Jenkinson's beach
where that salt water pool was so clear.

in a torn old white sweatshirt and plaid shorts
he was sharing a Bud at the fence
loved his mower and pool, and that backyard was cool
much more like a park, you would sense.

we know how he hated the gurlic
and that onions would just make him hurlick
my mother would never use any such thing
he could drive her to sing like Steve Urlick.
( did I do that?)

No qualms about eating cold hotdogs
and cheddar in chunks from red foil
liked his eggplant cut thin, and his gravy could win
a blue ribbon, the secret? No spoil!!

Could deliver a joke like Bob Newhart
or a pun just for fun was sublime
he was always aware, but for crowds, didn't care
unless it was harmony time.

Best one on one at a party
but the life when it came to his cracks
made small talk okay, but preferred just to stay
to the side and be watching the acts.

Old Spice and that weekender stubble
did his thing and his speaking was soft
he was never a man to cause trouble
but he'd tell you when something was off.

McDonalds and corn on the cob
smoked a pipe, did not curse, and was never a slob
though I know he was not always neat
he was clean, never smelled, never spit in the street.

taught us never to take wooden nickels
and he loved a fresh jar of those kosher dill pickels
drove a large Orange bug in the day
with a driver side  SPEBSQSA

he wiped off my face with his thumb
that he'd lick first to clear away jelly and crumb
and he'd always be there in a pinch
if I needed his help, he was there, not a Grinch!

He was always the Good Humored one
bought us Ice cream and took us to places for fun
an occasional "word to the wise
you've cashed in your chips
and don't hand me your lies."

and the one who would walk me not once
but twice down the aisle of heartache and gloom
as a wife I have failed, a dunce
yet dismissing that elephant out of the room.

and tried not to laugh at my lot
at my barrenness, troubles and all of that snot
took me back to this place for some peace
never charged me a dime, not a landlord with lease
but a man with the mercy he knows
he understood sometimes that's just how life goes

and suddenly everything's changed
I am fifty two times around, feeling deranged
and it's not because I need a crutch
feeling lost in this world  
which I've lived in and such

but that I have been shot into space
having lost what I loved, it's my dad's loving face
and I'm here in the house that he bought
it's the one where we loved and the one where
we fought

and I cried here at length at the table
feeling shot into space, as if I am unable
to cope with the loss of my dad,
with the loss of his smile  and the voice that he had

and the place that he had in my life
in my heart....in my head...in my mind...So I climbed
to room where my dear daddy slept
and I laid on that bed and I wept and I wept
feeling shot into space I recalled that man's face
and I reached for the  tissues he kept in that place

and in one second flat, as I blew
from the nose of his likeness,  I knew and it's true
I was beamed back from space
into someone's embrace
and believe me, as if my dad knew...

For my father was known to be punny
always quick with the wit, such a honey
he would tell me to write, for it was his delight
that his children were his kind of funny.

I am never to think I am odder
for I am what I am, my dad's daughter
I hear distant strumming and now my dad humming
the theme song from Welcome Back Kotter.

http://youtu.be/5VlGyMG0ksg

Love would hold him in His hands,
a man whose field of knowledge spans
across the cultures of the lands
whose heart and soul He understands.

And Love would choose this lowly one
of humble heart, a fallen son
and one who's felt the pain of loss
who's slept in fields of stone and moss.

And brought him to this place of rest
where he can ponder what is best
to build his home with rusty nail
or lose the things which can't avail?

To spend his time in search of that
which fills the hollow places, at
the moment of his greatest need
a shoot broke through that tiny seed.

A drop of water from the sky
had reached the ground and fed the rye
which grew into the Living bread
and fed the famine in his head.

And Love would fill his hungry soul
with simple Truth, a burning coal
and from this rock, pure streams will flow
the living water makes men whole.

We, like sheep, have gone astray
and each one wanders his own way
it's freedom call and so, what if
our freedom calls from yonder cliff?

The grass is tall, it waves hello
while waves crash on the rocks below
the Pasture man, he knows the land
and saves his friends from sinking sand.

He leaves the flock to find the few
who've wandered out to catch a view
of life beyond the broken fence
a man feels loved and then repents.

My lingering lament
my stuttering sonnet
my book of bewilderment
has your name on it.

share with me the highlights of your day
and if you choose not to say much
I will listen anyway.
Well I know that we all need some time alone
time to simmer, time to think
and time to not pick up the phone

and I need time to trust in what I feel
am I just thinking there's a distance
or is it something that is real?
It's hard to tell, just now, which is the case
I am not much for deciphering
your moods, it's not my place.

A vacant beach and somewhere a dog's bark
watched a full moon light the ocean
and the beach as it grew dark.
Pedaled past two lovers on a blanket in the sand
it's been so long that I've forgotten
the very memory of your hand.

Share with me of the doldrums of your day
but if you choose not to say much
I will listen anyway.
or just walk with me in silence, hold my hand
and if you're wanting not to touch me
I'll begin to understand

Ears hear, eyes read, mind processes, heart feels, tongue speaks and/or  hands type/sign or motion.

The cycle was set in place with creation.

In a forum such as this, people share and those of us in this cyber coffee shop read.  

A miracle is communication, and the degree to which the speaker/writer/artist needs to be seen and appreciated varies.

To some, the need for recognition trumps his perceived need to create.

To others, the appreciation seems the icing on the cake of their heart's musings.

Others may be embarrassed in the spotlight, but still appreciate the attention.

Nevertheless, the miracle of communication, the cycle and mechanism through which man can share his art, as well as the wonderful freedom to connect and respond as freely as one chooses is often overlooked.

Taken for granted...abused, neglected, uncelebrated.

We can appreciate simply or we can use this communication to receive, process and question and learn things about other people, their experiences, thoughts and beliefs.

Their input serves to stimulate our thinking and either shut us down and turn us away, or send us on adventure of mind and spirit.

Words  have the power to excite the soul and find reason for existence.

They can also hurt, stemming from situation, temperament, past hurts internalized, or out of misunderstanding.

Our own vulnerabilities/sensitivities from past violation of our boundaries  leave us open for hurt. Lack of boundaries...a cause for so many problems in communication, and yet....poetry seems to invite us in for tea, to make us feel understood . Comments welcome. We hope people are nice. I hope people are nice. ( steps aside from podium) You all seem nice. I close with these words.

I truly appreciate communication, especially through this comment feature and the channel ( my laptop)  through which it exists, not simply the internet.

I direct all thanks to my parents and ultimately my husband, my lord and my maker, the one and only Supernatural Jesus Christ. ( nod to guy in the plaid shirt over there, who also goes by Jesus). Almost done. The following a poem I wrote about what I had thought to be a bully, but truly my own bullheadedness.

" Shooting The Bull"

Once owned a Ford Taurus though often it's said
a Ford on the roadside is probably dead.
I never let stuff like that go to my head
I know how it is to be down.
Ran my hand over the gun metal grey
if it was a horse we'd have galloped away
but the oil was blackened and so that fine day
I decided to take it to town.

My husband was known for mechanical skill
took pride in his work, though I battled his will
I knew he was right about everything, still
I wanted to have my own way.
It was his contention that I was a pain
he often made comments that seemed so inane
I knew that he thought I was lacking a brain
at the technical end of the day.

He said he would change it the next Saturday
still I thought to myself,  "There's a much better way
at Jiffy **** service is good, and they say
that it takes them no more than ten minutes".
Five minutes to get there and five minutes in
they offered to clean up my ***** engine
I gladly accepted, and paid for the gin
or whatever that mixture had in it.

Back at the house, feeling quite satisfied
a little bit nervous on account of his pride
but the Taurus can't wait, 'cause what if it died?
and think of the money we saved!
Well he wasn't at home, so then I could relax
I got dressed for work, while rehearsing the facts
then drove to my work, and in one hour max
the Taurus it bucked, then it caved.

Squeaked into the place where my money was earned
I called him and naturally he was concerned
we had it towed out, I felt angry and burned
now I needed a brand new transmission.
I try not to dwell on the past or road ****
we all have our issues, they bother me still
I'm often quite stubborn, and always a pill
but once in a while now, I listen.

in the filtered blue glow
of your favorite
late show
with the light
from the bathroom
left on

I can make out
your face
and it's hard
to erase
from my memory
although
you are gone.

In our silence
a sweetness
a comfort
it's true
needing less
to be said
meant much more

we lived well
in our day
and had so much
to say
but your smile
it just cut to
my core.

As we sat
side by side
on the sofa
'twas your hand
on my ankle
which said
I am here
you are there
theres no distance
I swear
you still whisper
sweet nothings
in bed.

So forgive me
for getting
all sappy
but the late show is on
and you're there
in the blue
of the den
I can't hear
Letterman
he's been muted
so music
can blare

i feel the density
the scarcity
of being me
not one to wait around
but suddenly this girl's a tree

of void
hey now let's contemplate
half empty?
no, half full today
congested is my current state
the chips fall
anywhere they may

i want to whisper
and have nothing coming
from the place of  (sigh)
I want a glimpse of what its like
to have the thought erase
and ( sigh)

I am not asking
to be mute, though you may
entertain the thought
be nice to simply hear
not what I'm thinking
more like what you've got.

i feel the silence
hear the sound  
inside my head it's humming
not short of pleasant but
much better to accompany
your strumming.

a conversation taking
place
an understanding in my soul
an instrument of perfect grace
i'll hand it to you
make me whole

forgive my talking  
nightlights glimmer
something i can't shake
my longing dear
is just to simmer
down to give and take

I love the feeling
when you're moved
about my bellyache
your comfort's soothing
teabag something
makes my honey quake

not knowing how or when
or why or is just the way it sometimes goes
to trust an answer
never comes
but known to God
whose loving shows..

steam from the coffee ***
brings more than this
it's coffee's kiss
beans roast by foreign hands
in foreign lands
brought me to this...
XO

What can you say
out there in the fog
in want of your old flame
you burnt your last log.

The memories are hot
the pain you remember
beneath all the ashes
that last glowing ember.

Don't bother to fan it
there's no fuel to burn
let it go out
save the ash for the urn.

Turn your attention
to the wood
that needs chopping
do something worthwhile
like sweeping and mopping

Sweep out the soot
and mop up your tears
clean out the attic
let go of your fears

Put on the blues
then something upbeat
get on your warm clothes
walk out to the street

Follow it down
to the steaming creek bed
the mineral water
is something it's said

Melts away saddness
and heats up your head
without all the smoke
without all the dread

Don't need a fire
the water is good
cleans away everything
and better than wood

The Word is water
still living and true
all that you need
all that you do

Lie back in the warmth
pulled free from the mire
be free and be healed
and forever on fire

I am sick but I don't want to be aggressive
about my treatment. I don't want to step
outside into the cold, I don't want to
to go anywhere today....just stay
inside bundled up in my soft
pajamas and with a cup of
tea and listen to some
music in this warm
place and dream
about where
and  when
I will be
well.
:)
I only want to stay
inside and rest.
just let it be
okay for
me to
rest
my
<3.
I
hope
you are
feeling better
than me today and
that you are well rested...
but if you are not than I think
it best you remain inside with a cup
of tea all snuggled in your PJs too my friend
life is sometimes a delicate balance between you and me
and it is of the utmost importance to support and care for one another.
and in caring for another we are free from vanity, as long as we have cared
for our own souls too and not forgotten to deal with the thing that are
bothering us. It is important when considering the other
guy that we are not putting our own thoughts
and expectations upon that person but
simply allow them to be separate
while we pour up the tea
of consideration and
respect the line,
since it is the  
boundaries
holding
every
one
of
us
accountable to
each other and
where we will be able to discern
if the cup is actually half empty of half full.

His final passage
all it took
to get this girl
to read the book
he'd asked her twice
before he died
she said she'd started it
but lied

His point was made
she'd do her best
fulfill this day
his last request
for now, what's sure
she's hanging on
to every word
because he's gone

and once aboard
she's hauled to sea
no pleasure cruise
but misery
she stands her watch
from noon till nine
he drinks his scotch
she sips her wine

He holds the course
and surely keeps
the surging seas
from where she sleeps
and once her grieving
eases some
she's finds his voice
a comfort from

the memories
she reads his words
through tear filled eyes
her ears have heard
and now she enters
into his
her mind alive
with images

of life beyond
this mortal soul
of turquoise seas
and sandy shoal
she mulls each chapter
of this book
and smells the sea
and baits the hook

and climbs the mast
up to top
unties the sails
and let's them drop
and pulled into uncertainty
the ship sails through
calamity
but never does
she doubt the man
who said he could
she knows he can

and reading on
she comes to see
the trip was really
meant to be
for all her days
she's been alone
sometimes by choice
though seeds were sown

but landing here
on troubled water
no one found
his only daughter
and left to find
her own way home
to settle down
or wait and roam

she's simply learned
to stay afloat
while others love
and others dote
on children born
to entertain
she'd prayed for babies
but got rain

the wind kicks up
her heart still bleeding
blames herself
for never heeding
youthful dreams
for fear of failing
SUDDENLY
she's out here sailing!

now rising from
the galley door
the smell of fresh
baked bread and more-
sea-salt blends
with airborne yeast
and draws her down
to taste the feast

she swings the rope
from deck to ladder
there's her Dad
a little fatter
the captain calls
all hands on deck
a storm is brewing
still they check

to see what's cooking
time to eat
for work requires
mortal meat
and in the middle
of the story
here's her father's
pride and glory

pictures taped
upon the wall
his two best girls
and that's not all
a golden key
on nail in teak
she'll watch him knead
while floorboards creak

she stands beside
and learns his ways
for he was gone
most of her days
out to sea to make a living
and mama said
he's always giving

now she listens as he praying
for wife and child
what's this he's saying?
"Bless them both
while I'm away,
lead them safely
through the day"

while fishermen
have dropped their nets
he speaks of losses
and regrets
that one small daughter
missed her dad
he never knew
just what he had

and once again
the ride resumes
across a sea
of oil plumes
and men are hardly
scarce she finds
her father's story
now unwinds

he fought this battle
with his crew
while stirring up
a *** of stew
his Guif, the sea,
was once so clear
he loved to fish
and held it dear

the tales within
this mariner's log
Would pull her head
out of the fog
he's taught her how
to sail the sea
to feel the wind
which sets her free

from thinking it's
about the past
to taking hold
of things which last
and using what's
inside of you
to break the cycle
cook the stew

to forge ahead
and let it go
you must read on
or never know
now seeing that
his book will end
she slows her eyes
and takes his pen

and writes a note
on every page
attempting to now
quell the rage
for how could he
who claimed to love
allow her pain
to rise above

the peaceful calm
she's found within
his final passage
'tis a sin
and still, one day
he shouts "LAND **!'
the end approaches
heart in tow

she will not greet
the writer's end
nor leave this place
of make-pretend
She will not listen
anymore

but drops her anchor
just off shore
and won't accept
the last surprise
but stills his voice
and shuts his eyes
she fights against
the frothy foam
while bailing water
from her own

she cannot bear
to lose him twice
his loving presence
his sound advice
on written pages
this the book
about his life
at sea
the cook

for days to come
the text will sit
with marker near
the end of it
for this her only
comfort now
to know he waits
for her somehow

and days will come
and days will turn
to weeks, then months
a year to burn
the only way
for this old lass
to ever move
beyond the pass

to go and read
the final pages
put to rest
her rock of ages
to do the only
thing she can
to free herself
from limbo land

She finds the book
upon her shelf
and opening
it for herself
She'll read the words
the man had written
years before
when he was smitten

on that page
and by his hand
a blessing that
he'd always planned
to read her on
her wedding day
the daughter he
would give away

"Be sure to love
the one you're with,
and this my girl
your wedding gift"
and tucked within
the jacket there
a little clipping
of her hair

a poem she'd done
when she was nine
and two more things
within the spine
a lock box number
and that key
this man, he loved
a mystery...

.@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@

Today she rides
upon the seas
and sails around
the Florida Keys
she drops her anchor
swims to shore
the waves won't scare her
anymore

and just last year
she met a guy
a salty sailor
with just one eye
he'd seen the movie
lived the book
not the ending
just the hook.

You were still asleep
        when from dreams I awakened
                to a sudden gale
And to my delight
      chimes played wildly in the night
                 wind is slicing wooden rail

Got me out of bed
       frozen in my sleepy head
                   clinging to the words
Could I keep this song?
      write the lyrics all night long?
                  theme for lonesome birds

stood to stretch and see
    caught a glimpse,  eternity
                 moon was center stage
sparkling diamonds perched
         far out in the universe
                glitter snow on page

beyond ice laden trees
    snow had nature on it's knees
          mean subzero chill
Funny just today
      sun broke icicles away  
           outside window sill        

Winter snow then ice
      weather man's advice, not a
                 time to drive alone
Not to drive at all!
         would be a better call to
               hunker down at home

Opened up the door
             chilled my carcass to the core
                   music of the snow.
Back inside again
         in the warmth of down and friend
                I decided to forgo

Winter lullaby
        soothes and lures a tired eye
                           back to dreamy home
Hearing starts to fade
       while wind chimes serenade
                           long and winded poem

Eb pulls back, he holds his peace
he's done with Flo, he's wined the beast
and as it's said, 'don't tread where sands are shifting
ebb and flow, they come and go
ebb draws us out, the tides are low,
but as we yearn, return and stop our drifting.

I stand on rock, alone at last
and mourn for what is done and past
but still, with broken heart, recall the surges
the times when you were out at sea
and when you finally wrote to me
I laugh at how you satisfied my urges.

The words we shout from distant shore
the ones which fall on heavy oar
which make the trip back home far less than pleasing
far better are the words on wing
which land with olive branch and sing
a song of love which keeps the flow from freezing.

but even in the closest knit
where scarcely will the piece not fit
there's comes a rhythm known as ebb and flow.
and marriage is a special bond
and Eb and Flo they looked beyond
and understood the way it had to go.

and through the laughter and the tears
and late night dances, sharing beers
they always knew the highs would lead to low.
and now Flo waits on lonesome shore
for time apart was forced before
as time would have it, 'twas Eb's time to go.

Me
riding on the winds of mediocrity
waiting on a time when you and I will be
we are not the same as what we used to be
making up is lame when it's not happening
anyway
that's okay
save it for another day

You
Quiet on the end of telephone
and you
calling every day
yet I am still alone
then
when it's getting late and I have had enough
we're
serving up another plate of goodnight stuff.

and anyway
that's okay
save it for another day

Yeah anyway
that's okay
it's alright
not tonight
never mind
not unkind
understand
out of hand
okay then
I'll be there
when you tbink
I don't know
say a prayer
Hang it up
there you go
for all we know
that's the show
still just me.

When my mind tells me "Yo, time to work,
there's that pile in that aisle needing work
you've got stuff to *** done
while we still have the sun
and no reason to live here but work."

I'm inclined just to do as I will
but that calling to work holds me still
I feel guilty as sin, it's a state that I am in
to relax means it's time that I ****.

I have worked long and hard to recline
just sit back here and type the next line
and convinced that my soul
cannot bear to be whole
I just told it to shut up or whine.

and it did that indeed, yes it's wined
on a glass of RELAX and then dined
on some club crackers doused in the applesauce housed
in the bottom fridge drawer, what a find!

Now I'm not gittin' anything done
yet my life is a barrel of fun
I can do as I may ,I've got no hell to pay
Thank my Savior, this battle is won!

And my work will just wait to *** done.

With a beaming smile that could warm the tile
She came flying down the corridor
the sun was setting, so i asked her heading
and she said, "I'm going to Florider!"

Well she seemed to like to talk
and I really love to listen
so I pressed her for the details
and her eyes began to glisten.

"I been staying in this rest home
since I lost my dear departed"
and I asked her when he died and she said,
"No, I meant my leg".

So we stood there, well I stood there and
she sat in her new wheel chair
I asked her what's her hurry.
and if she's gonna get a peg.

And she said:
"Maybe if I lose this weight~
Gotta get down to 220
but the trouble is I love to eat.
I know it's not that funny."

"I've had my share of heart attacks
and twice I had a stroke
Buried my husband and lost the house
and gee I love to smoke"

"I can't move these three fingers
but I manage in this chair
on nice days take it to the road
for excercise and air".

She went on to share her story
was from somewhere up in Queens
married twice without children
and lived well within her means.

She talked about her childhood home
and how chemicals from the pool
splashed onto the strawberry patch
and the fruit was the size of a stool.

The best of all of her stories
was one about her dad
who had worked for Sunshine Biscuits,
but once fell into a vat.

no sooner had she told me
that I knew I'd have to write
a lymric for this lady
whose smile brings such delight.

The folks at Sunshine found him
pulled him out but hound him
was one lucky catch, 'til he met his batch
when those lady fingers done nearly drowned him.

I'm way out of touch
so far out of sync
stuck in this camp
and wow do I stink!
Out of my mind
were rhyming a crime
I'd be heavily fined
and then gone with a blink!

For I'd rather be eighty
a seasoned old lady
who has something worth saying
besides corny stuff
It's my campy old fluff
and I'd leave it behind
if only you'd find
that enough is enough
.
See I popped out this corn
in what felt like a second
but cleaned for an hour
for better words beckoned.
Come camping awhile
and you'll pick up my style
as we sit popping poems
like old cornballs, I reckoned.



.

She reaches out for love but it eludes her
He spits her out but not before he chews her
she blames herself for his mistake,
for giving him a belly ache
no wonder why she's feeling like a loser.

and then one day she noticed she was slipping
the mirror never lies, she wasn't tripping
within her empty eyes she saw
the wear and tear had worn her raw
and tears behind the veil of shame were dripping.

Standing in the dim light of the morning
In want of something more of an adorning
she lifted up her golden hair,
and smiled though no one else was there
and realized she'd never heard the warning.

No one ever spoke of inner beauty
though the boys around her said she was a cutie
Daddy always wore the pants
but never asked his girl to dance
she learned her moves from guys who loved her ******.

Light music broke though silence of dead winter
Warm rays of sunshine thawed the ice within her
the local farmer loved his Lord
would never take, but could afford
and in his eyes, a pearl, and not a sinner.

She stands with him before the mirror now
her heart refreshed, she's seeing more somehow
the rounded apple of his eye
and no one else should wonder why
he bought the milk... because he loved the cow!

The other day I phoned a friend, I shan't be usin' names
"Not alright, I tell ya, Gee, my eyeball's shootin' flames!"
"Owie! Owie! Owie! Oh!, Chiliman I like ya so
do tell me what has happened though I know you will be well"

"While chopping jalapenos without the proper guise
I washed my hands both 'fore and aft' but much to my demise
I went to pop my contact in and soon would realize
a flaming side of poppers and a sizzling batch of fries!"

Well I knew he wasn't faking and it took me by surprise
that my heart was feeling something which I couldn't minimize
he must have sensed me crying, guess it opened up his eyes...........
(that awkward length of silence which one-sided love implies)

and sensing he could break me down, I felt I must disguise
so I layered up and told him, "I've got onions in my eyes!"
"Woe is you and oh so woe, Gee girl how I like you so
tell me what has happened though I know you will be well."

"While chopping up the onions without the proper guise
I washed my hands before and aft' but much to my demise
can't blame me now for hoping we could do without the lies
But I'm just a bloomin' onion and I need to guard my...eyes."

And with the sharin' of the troubles and the things that caused us pain
there's comfort in the knowing, for what else have we to gain?
But if I lose you then tomorrow, because today I have been real
Best I learned another thing, to hold back what I feel.

And when everything which must be added is put in the Chili-man's crock
a five-to-one hand wash of water and bleach is best to avoid pepper shock.

time to let the stink out
of this locker room
inside of here
and open up the windows of the hall
let the dust *****
fly away
'cause everything I do and say
is nothing less than pride before the fall.

take away the chains
which keep me tied to what looks beautiful
so I can just decide here on my own
open up the doors and set me free
for I can't stand to be
cooped up beside this keyboard and the phone.

Call the guy and order, honey
anything you want
be sure to hold the font
and all those words, just let em be.
ask for two, they'll tell you that
the slice is two for three
the first you have to pay for but that second slice is free.

And If you must type anything
then make it quick
or call and sing
those simple little words I want to hear
I'll wait around but let's enjoy
the hours outside
and wade into the rolling tide
so nice this time of year!

and if you must get serious
I'm happy to go with you there
but please don't ask for lyrical replies
if you need to talk
don't tell me everything too soon
for I will balk
and think you're packin' hooey lies.

I never said
that I could write a book here
and yet look here, I can throw it out
cause I'm the queen of throw
up and down the Avenue
a literary genius, you
are taking me too seriously though.

I just got out of prison and I'm
trying just to listen and
it's way too soon to speak of love for me;
Best to take it slow
I feel your hunger pains, let's go
and get a pizza, 'cause the second slice is free!

what can I say that has not yet been said
and where can I go that my heart hasn't led
when faced with the truth, let it go to my head
it hurts, but at least it's an answer
and where is the one that I've wanted to date
yesterday's leftovers still on my plate
coming to grips with the fact that he's late
and he's probably out with that dancer

Oh he may come and he might go
and I can't follow, I'm too slow
but I can sing a song I know, it's called my soul needs patching
you can sing along with me, the humming bird and buzzing bee
for all we know you're just like me, two souls whose hearts needs patching.

Tell me, when will I have what that other girl's got
love for a lifetime, guess this is my lot
I've scared off a few with the end to this plot
how those mystery dates made me shiver
and who is this person that I have become
sometimes just lazy, and snapping my gum,
I've tried to play smarter, perhaps I'm just dumb
but I'm all that I've got to deliver

Oh they may come and they may go
but I can't follow, I'm too slow
still I can sing a song I know,  it's called my soul needs patching
and you can sing along with me, the humming bird and buzzing bee
for all we know you're just like me, two souls whose hearts needs patching.

how can I slow what is driving me on
roll down the window, I'm more like a song
Set on the breeze that the wind blows along
with the fragrance of long summer days
So why all the longing when now is enough
precious and sweet are your words off the cuff
i'm happy to have you to read all this stuff
while the worlds smallest violin plays

Oh they may come and they may go
and I can't follow, I'm too slow
but I can sing a song I know it's called my soul needs patching
and you can sing along with me, the humming bird and buzzing bee
for all we know you're just like me, two souls whose hearts needs patching

House needs updating
Home Depot is becoming
home away from home.

please forgive the slanty line
between the words and common rhyme
It's gotten out of hand, oh man, just sayin'
nothing's worse but what what I mean
a rhyming verse is not obscene
yet hardly worth the birth of notes I'm playin'

better to be out of words
than force the ones you've always heard
and bore you more with punctual partition
set in golden platitude
I'm working on my attitude
a sadder dude would swear he's near Perdition

I try to keep it off the cuff
but sinking low, enough's enough
and just as rough to find a way to end it
not poetic suicide
my own phonetic cuter side
to find the brokenness and try to mend it

thankful for the little things
the corny rhymes and onion rings
the stuff my dad would say to make us smile
that subtle joke, so funny Dad
and gee I miss you, now I'm sad
and hope to see you soon
" Just wait a while".

a thought I had
about the love
we shared before the merging
it seems as though
we've come around
our friendship worth the purging.

released like fish caught on the line
we swam our separate ways
but years would pass
and it would seem
those years
have turned
to days.

and now we two
can laugh about
our strange and quirky thing
the friendship never left us
though I tossed
my wedding ring.

we've come full circle  
you and I
and back here at the start
let's promise once again my friend
no horse before the cart.

no misery
just company
and bitterness no more.
but leave some space
and pray erase
the chalk lines from the floor.

respect our present pleasantness
each day a new beginning
forgive the past
the die is cast
it's looks like we'll be winning.

a
hi
and
hello
are nice
words to
begin a chat
but sometimes
I can become a little
over-wordy preparing the
segue, pronounced Segway, aptly
named for the two wheeled transporter
in which a single person gets around like on
a dolly in the standing up position, but while all of
this clarification is going on here, I will suddenly have an
itch and scratch my nose and then I may sneeze  and
forget what it was I had wanted to say in the first
place and well, I simply just have to say some
little thing and forgive me for saying so,
and not for nothing but something
strange happened recently that
caused me to think a new
thought and the thing
that occurred to me
is that while the
poem is for
everyone,
that it's
really
for
me
and I
am not
saying that
it could not  be
for anyone else and
in fact you can have at it
but the fact remains that it
was something that sprung up
out of a certain nervousness and fatigue
it continues to almost write it-
self into something of a silly
waffling exercise of sort
which, in truth means
nada,nothing, zero,
zilch and nuttin'
however, were
it to bring a
smile or
frown
It is
ok
you
see, I
like to
think it as
part of my
creative bent
to find a pattern
and I understand
that most people may
avoid this kind of irritation
and if that is the case, please feel free
to stop right here> right here or
allow me to bring this last
thought to a proper
closing and that
it will take the
last words
to make
it look
right
for
U.

Bye!

Not to be the only one who feels
that it's important
to keep your shirt on
to keep your patience
of this I'm certain
with understanding
in quiet waters
are sunken
treasures
found.

Catching wind of something that you said
I'm quite relieved that
you are the type who
can see the end from
a rough beginning
and in forgiving
you make it clear
that there's no
fear in
love.

Reaching out for something that is good
and latching onto
discarded socks you
are thinking clearly, "Hey!"
(they don't deserve you)
but still you serve so
it will continue
you'll never
alone
be.

Letting go of what is left behind
I might be freed from
my vain devotions
and silly notions
the useless worries
about the future
and of all
temporal
things.

let me get the lyrics right
i wrote 'em on the bus the night
i'd had enough and left him for the city
he sat me down there on the floor
'cause all the seats were sold before
and i don't mind, I'm fine, so save your pity

and as he turned, I saw him smile
and more relieved with every mile
"it's for the best" was just the way I heard it
hollowed by the cold and shame
the wounded heart, it places blame
or tries to make you think that you deserved it.

and as the lonely hour passed
I caught him in the looking glass
the driver, he reminded me of Poppy
He'd shown us mercy, must have sensed
the urgency and hurt condensed
beneath the smiles, the goodbye kiss so choppy.

It didn't really matter though
Slid down this mountain in the snow
and one last ride beside it was exciting
and wiping tears with my coat sleeve
last night he asked me not to leave
but we were just so tired of all the fighting

and as I sat there in a haze
my purple mind reviewed the days
since marriage hell had swallowed up my joy
As everything I'd done before
so blindly trusting, nothing more
mistaken for true love, I wed the boy.

but from that point, the veil was lifted
I was lame and he was gifted
or so that was the way that it all appeared
and so I bought the lie each day
to be a good wife come what may
and hold in my contentions for I feared

that he was right and I was wrong
and we had nothing all along
a thought beyond that which I could conceive
and rather than just cut our losses
pack it in and tell The Boss, he
opted then to cheat and then deceive.

And thinking he could do no wrong
I wrote this stupid little song
as though the man was faithful to the end
strange that he had left behind
a trail of clues for me to find
but at the time, a comfort to pretend.

And down in Denver it became
so clear to me, he had to blame
another woman, could it be, was waiting?
I didn't have the energy
to see more of the worst in me
decided, there and then that he was dating.

Misery loves company
the woman sitting next to me
had something going on with her digestion
I'd like to say she burped a lot
and as it was she slurped a lot
but either way, I moved at her suggestion.

And every stop was getting worse
the seats were reeking of the curse
and three days penance was the price for freedom
and then my final destiny
Grand Central Station was to me
the answer to my prayers, that's where I'd meet 'em.

with a heavy heart and broken pride
we come to places deep inside
but older now, we see the lies and shed them.
I made the choice, against advice
of parents who are rather nice
and saw through all the heat and vice,
with wisdom.

I see the young ******* the bus
she didn't drink and couldn't cuss
unless the moon was full on with her saddness
and then she'd turn and rant and get
to marinating in regret
and have a few to mellow out the madness.

had she known what she knows now
or I should say, what I know now
I would have taken flight before that bus
I would have come back home that summer
met my friend, and what a ******
saved myself three days of stink and fuss.

save it for a better day
another heart will come my way
and in the end it's just another story.
Another chapter that was read
He breathed new life into the dead
and cleaned it up and now it's for His Glory

Some folks say and some will disagree
what's true for you may not be true for me
from what I've seen of what is shown
and what I've gleaned from what is known
we draw our own conclusions, naturally.

Some folks say I'm simple in my mind
and childlike, gee thanks, you're all too kind
tongue in cheek I'm kind of mean,
a rotten streak lies in between
the **** of jokes whose heart was left behind.

Some folks say "You're better off alone-
sleep in late and don't pick up the phone"
I say NAY! it's better still
to sweeten up that bitter pill
go find yourself a lover of your own.

Some folks say my mood swings are severe
much less though when drowning in my beer
I say nay and here I am,
up and down and round again
life's a ride, don't hide, the Lord is near!

Some folks say poem is just a song
lyrics without melody, which beg to sing along
I say nay, Le ding without
Le **** leaves more to think about
and in the end, my friend, shalom shalong!

I walked away...

you see, it's never my intention
to be rude or to offend
but they stood around
and spoke of what I could not comprehend
of all of the evil in the world
and all the whys
and then my friend spoke up
and much to my surprise
said "Tell me nothing!

"Tell me nothing sick and horrible
It's gotten out of hand
the misery's so sad, you see
and too much should be banned
and maybe all things work together
for the good, I understand
but please just keep it to yourselves
and leave my head here in the sand
just tell me nothing".

They were appalled
and so they walked away and left him there
in what he needed most
of course I prayed in my own quiet way,
to scare away the ghost
of all of the evil in the world
and all the whys
but then my friend spoke up and
much to my surprise
said "tell me something!"

"Tell me something good and funny,
make me laugh until I cry
you know there's something good in laughter
though I cannot tell you why~
maybe good news is on order from the Lord
and that's a far cry from the sadness
and a cry I can afford
and though I'd like to know
that God can hear our cries
but otherwise
if someone dies
please tell me nothing."

We walked away.

For any time the urge to wring
an autumn gourd, this one's the thing
Smashing pumpkins, not so nice
but Butternut Squash, an honest vice

Long and beige, hard and smooth
you'd never guess it's power to sooth
that underneath the toughest skin
is meat like pumpkin, seeds within

A steamy bisque for autumn's chill,
peel and chop them as you will
Dump them into four cups broth*
add apple, pear, or applesauce

a cup or two will do just fine
and while you stand there, have some wine!
sautee onions, a cup and a half
dump them in and cry or laugh

and now to add your seasoning stuff
cumin, curry, nutmeg, Fluff
hold the Fluff, that ain't the truth
best to pull that old sweet tooth

Bisque is savory, better than sweet
warms the cockles, heart to feet
save your sweets for pumpkin pie
the after-apple of your eye

Back to seasonings, see above
a quarter teaspoon, more with love
I add pepper and take a gander
some folks call for coriander

heat the whole thing to a boil
for me, my crock ***'s always loyal
crock at high, about four hours
or low for six, and bring some flowers!

And now I'll play a little game
change my words to mean the same
if cook is butter and ****** is squash
then butter dat ****** and ****** dat gnosh

when you're hungry, under the wudder
ain't nuttin' better 'en butternut chudder
add some cream and squash your mash
mash your squash and whip your pash

I used a blender to make it creamy
cooked it down, so thick and steamy
add some butter, parsley's fine
butternut bisque with bread and wine!

Ahhhh!!!!!

*chicken broth