The Best Time
I love reading poetry
first thing in the morning,
the house mouse quiet.
Still dark,
from a long winter night,
the only light,
hundreds of white stars
igniting the Christmas Tree.
Another light added,
the fire creeps it's heat
into the chill of the room,
enveloping stillness.
My two cats greet me
as the morning awakens.
Misty blue,
a long haired
soft cream Himalayan,
curls like a mother of pearl shell
on the soft satin
of the tree skirt.
Tabby Jenny,
a ball of fur,
warmed by the fire,
purrs.
Urban
Sprawl
Every
patch of green is fading away
A glimpse
of the countryside
suddenly
appears
Black
Angus grazing in a pasture
Blocks of
houses as a backdrop
Stacked standing
Dominoes
Once
rolling emerald paths
Now
construction structures
Roads
criss crossing
Carrying
commuters
Concrete
jungles rise
Monsters
of urban development
Dollar
signs motivating growth
Ka ching Ka ching
Hardly a
patch of true green left
Our Kitty
Cats
Steady
Jenny
and Misty
Blue Eyes
Join me
in the early morning
Purring a
contented hum
With soft
belly foot rubs
Gentle
hand caresses
They
stretch doing there cat yoga
Misty
smooths her ivory fur
with her
morning tongue bath
Then
curls her paws in a pre-natal pose
A giant mauve
fuzzy caterpillar
Jenny
nudges my hand again
A glutton
for affection
Sometimes
we call her our cling on
She hugs
so tightly to our chest
At the
end of the day
We have
to cast her away
Several
times before she gets the picture
Finally
curls into a soft puddle
On the
back of the blue leather chair
Parenthood
Don't
have children as a trophy
As an
extended ego
Because
birth control was missed one night
Don't
have children if divorce is an option
commitment
a joke
The
wedding only a once upon a time fairy tale play for a day
Don't
have children to fulfill something missing
but not
knowing what
Don't
have children to keep up with the Jonses
The
Johnsons
Or the
Jensens
Two
parents
A father
and a mother
have children
because you want to love
nourish
and nurture them and each other
For the
rest of all of your lives
The
Grand Bahama
Hibiscus
abloom
Pale
orange pastel pink fire engine red
Petals
swirl
A
vibrant windmill
Bright
stamens accent their center
Drawing
bees and me in
I
learn to make tea from their petals
Palm
trees sway on sands the color of
Banana coral pristine
white
The
aquamarine waters
Lap
shores gently like tongues
The
perfect temperature
Surrounds
the island
Occasional
breezes
A
periodic gale
A
paradise lost when I encountered
Noseeums
*Noseeums
are tiny mosquitoes the size of a piece of dust. Their itch twenty times that
of other mosquitoes
Tatts
Once
handsome men are now freaks
Women
a side show at the circus
It
has become the trend
Putting permanent
life marks on flesh
Once
a birthmark was thought a curse from God
Especially
in visible places
Now
young and old enjoy marring their body
With
ugly designs
Once
hidden in some secret place
Now
they force us to witness their masochistic acts
Purplish
blue black and indigo colors
Blur
the beauty God gave them
Once
thought extreme
Now
they parade their anti-social behavior
Like
a badge on arms and legs
An
art exhibition we didn’t choose to attend
Some
say their tatts mean something
A
tribute to someone
Some
say they are sensitive souls
Expressing
themselves
I
beg to differ
Anyone
who consciously chooses
To
hurt themselves for attention
Doesn’t
care if they offend
Troubling
The
question looms large
Why
do people choose to look cheap
Like
hardened ex cons
Epilogue For The Homeless
The
homeless are great
They
Manipulate
Playing
victim
Preying
on good Christian hearts
The
con their game
They
use different disguises
Different
faces
One
man always out there with many
Sometimes
a goatee
Sometimes
a long beard
Sometimes
a hat
Sometimes
just looks weird
He
stands on the median
Always
a forlorn face
looking
down
He
should get an academy award
for
acting
They
have different signs
Scrawled
on cardboard
A
good technique
One
I saw said
Stranded
Please anything will help
I
called her on it as she got on her hidden bike
smiling
One
sign said
I used to have a life once
I
decided to talk to her about it
Same
old sob story
Sores
all over her face
Wasn’t
going to admit she chose to be a meth addict
Another
sign
I used to be somebody once
She’s
still somebody
Somebody
on the streets
Another
Will work for food
Four
fast food restaurants hiring on the same street
Homeless and Hungry
Anything will help
When
you give them food they’re disappointed
Don’t
feed their addictions with your philanthropy
That
enable’s their disease
They
make a much better living begging
A
cab driver told me they often make $200 an hour
A
better wage than his fifteen an hour plus tips
It’s
lucrative
begging
I’ve
interviewed a few to see
How
they ended up on the streets
Ran away because my mother was a drug addict
Or her new husband was sexually abusing me
Husband was an alcoholic
All
pretty legit reasons
Sometimes
tragic
Sometimes
real
Usually
not
Personal
Choice and Personal Responsibility
Must
be examined
It’s
the lazy man’s profession
Some
like it
Don’t mind being a vagabond
Enjoy
the gypsy life riding the rails
They’ve
made their own bed
Don’t
mind sleeping in a bag on the streets
It’s
just like camping
Much
easier than taking care of a house
All
that responsibility
They
like the simple life
Most
take your money for alcohol and drugs
They
don’t really want food
Don’t
be fooled
Don’t
feel too sorry for these
“Victims”
Sometimes
these “Victims” are victimizing
You
Zero Population Growth
Some people
believe in quality
Not quantity
Unlike
California who adds a new million each year
Or India
Teeming with
life
Beggars
Merchants
Yogis
Cremation at the
Ganges
Recycling life
into another reincarnation
Or China
Population grew
so large the government forced contraception
Only one for a
while
Only two in the
country
A boy valued
more than a girl
Infanticide of
females became too common
Today freeways
buzz like bees twenty four seven
Traffic stopping
like clogged arteries at rush hours
New lanes and
new structures line them with commerce
Urban sprawl
leaving no room
For pastures for
cows
Meadows for Meadow
Larks
Or clean air to
breathe
Back in the
seventies there was a push
Only two
children per couple
The world then
was three billion
Now fifty years
later the world population bulges
More than double
Humanity has not
taken the idea seriously
Responsibility
with the life force
An afterthought
When does the
earth reach
“The fullness of
it’s Creation”
Does that mean
humanity is the only life form left?
Transformation
When
I first met you
You
were hiding in the disguise of a sick sloth
Pounds
of unwanted flesh and fat
Hiding
your soul sparkle
Then
something happened
You
shed that unwanted garbage
Became
a new vibrant woman
Emerged
from a bulging cocoon
A
bounteous butterfly beauty
Flitting
here and there
Showing
off your new design
Even
new love
Your
radiance inspired
Then
you forgot who you really were
Retreated
back to your chrysalis comfort
Retired
from the place that wanted to taste your essence
Then
discard it
Poet of the Year
She was quite
lovely when she had teeth and cheek bones
A sparkle in her
eye
Poetry sprang
from her mind
A brook bubbling
in Springtime
Now she only has
one tooth in front
She hides a
smile so we won’t see her pink gums
In the corner of
the poetry group
She is quiet
Sometimes brings
a poem to workshop
Sometimes not
An occasional
remark
You’re a poet!
Poverty stung her
so no dentures
No implants
Life took it’s
toll
Son’s
paralyzation
Husbands long
agonizing death
“The thousand
natural shocks that flesh is ere too”
Still exquisite
beauty in her soul
Stretches to
wake poetry to the world
Lyrical hymns lift
us with their song
Her vision
exposes her tantalizing verse
A master of the
written word
Born Into Polygamy
My mothers are
many
Only one father
He doles out
orders
Instructions
Daily
Up and dressed
by 5:00
Prayers and
breakfast at 5:30
Chores after breakfast
Feed the
livestock
Milk the cow
Gather the eggs
Then off to hard
labor for the day
Be productive
“By the sweat of the brow”
Build businesses
to serve the saints
Hard work the
antidote for evil
To bed by 8:00
Early to bed
Early to rise
The outside world
evil
No television
No outside
thought
“We never landed
on the moon”
Just a
conspiracy theory
The government
is “The Beast”
Instead of
sucking from us
We suck from it
to serve our causes
Women are hidden
Only men allowed to be visible
Women are busy
cleaning
Mothering
And making more
“pure” babies
To populate our
commune
Born into
polygamy
I never had a
choice
War Games
Will this Earth
and it’s inhabitants ever evolve
Beyond war
Beyond violence
Some keep this
consciousness of war locked
In reincarnated
minds
Destruction
resurfaces again and again
Haunting
humanity with senseless death
Annihilation
Mock booms shake
and rattle our windows
Camp Williams
again
Disturbing the
peace
Trouble and
frighten our communities
Our Young
Our Old
Our animals
Practicing war
Bombs
M16s
Weapons of Mass
Destruction
Giant helicopter
Dragons
Hover low over
our bedrooms at bedtime
Continue on the
hour until midnight
Mans foolish
waste of resources
And lives
Greener Pastures
Sometimes I miss
tranquil pastures in the country
Cattle lowing
Grazing for
eternity
Time slowing
Rivers running
on and on forever
It’s hard to
find quiet today
The world so
busy and buzzing everywhere
Give me buzzing
of bees
Swaying of trees
Gentle breezes
Give me grains
of wheat waving on a golden ocean
Geese on the
pond
Ducks with their
ducklings
Kittens playing
with dust bunnies in the barn
Garage Mahalls
Man caves
Block my
majestic mountain view
Anew
Rectangles,
triangles, squares
Barns designed
for pride
Not aesthetics
Oblivious to my
artists heart
They can’t build
them
High enough
Deep enough
Wide enough
For all their
gleaming vehicles
They stand as
monuments of success
Unvisited
Their toys
rarely enjoyed
Storage for
their trailers
Four Wheelers
Razors
Boats
My souls needs
ignored
With their giant
towers of ego
American Idol
Rock Star
An oxymoron
Crowds cheer
Rock on
Rock on
The Grateful are
Dead
Morrison
Joplin
Hendrix
Children aspire
To catch the
fire
“When I grow up
I want to be a rock star”
Don’t know they
can’t have both
A high price to
pay for
Groupies
No lasting
relationships
Recreational
drugs
Once vices
Now habits
On the road
again
In a cold hotel
room after the show
Millennials
The Snowflakes
have melted all over this country
Made it a
gargantuan mud hole
To cope in
college
Need Kleenex and play dough
Deplorables
deplore them
Liberals adore them
Protesting their
way of life
Don’t truly
understand their reasons for strife
Glued to their
screen
Their
narcississtic selfie scene
Tatts adorn
their arms
To our horror
Offer no charms
A freak show at
the circus
Covered with
life marks
Like hideous birthmarks
Think they are
so aware
They really
don’t care
Truly unaware
Offend left and
right
Say they don’t
want to fight
No morals to
speak of
No right and no
wrong
Their conscience
gone
Stripped all men
of masculinity
All women of
femininity
Now
JUST A CONFUSED
HOT MESS OF GENDERLESS HUMANITY
A
Prayer for the World
Light of the World, shine on me, love is the answer
Shine on us all, set us free, love is the answer
-Song
by John Ford Coley
Prayers For my
Sons
A mother wants
her sons to be happy. She can tell by their eyes if they are.
My brilliant Matt Damon look alike sons’s
eyes are tired
A BB gun found his eye in youth’s reckless
gambles
My hopes are he
will marry a wife
who
will help him blossom and thrive
Who will fill him up with joy
Inspire
His wife treats
him as her self serving work horse
to keep her in the the lifestyle
she aspires
His long surgeon
hours
are met with more
chores
bathe and tuck the
children in bed
read them a
story
The
queen sleeps late
early retires
Life is being
sucked from him one day at a time,
his patients, hospital administrators
insurance claims,
wife's desires
I pray for my
son’s happiness
for his life
Before he expires
My oldest son’s
eyes are light blue like mine
His generous
hard working soul
provides his
Bulgarian wife and twin daughters
their needs
their creature
comforts
His devotion to
his daughters knows no bounds
He finds great
joy
bestowing gifts
and toys
His wife stubborn
Proud of her Russian roots
Will not
compromise or move
It’s difficult
to aclimate her to American Mores
Clings to her
culture
Her heritage
Her ways
The twins cement their marriage
One Bulgarian
dark hair and eyes
One American
light hair and eyes
Their strongest
bond
Some glimpses of
happiness come to his eyes at times
When he hold his
daughters in his arms
It is enough
I hope and pray
for more
My
youngest sons eyes are kind
The
color soft buff feathers of a Turtle Dove
He has found a
true love
It makes his
heart sing
That love to my
heart
joy also brings
That love
inspires him to greatness
To live life
fully
To dream
I wonder if
their love will endure life’s
arrows and
slings
So Far So Good
An adorable
child
A gift of their
union to us all
Entertains with
her antics
She's a sprite, she springs
I thank God in
my prayers
For these
wonderful things
