(New entries will appear at the top)
May it be so
One’s great happiness needn’t take much —
like, successful memorization (or such),
oh, of Luminous Mysteries after many a year;
or anticipating spotting some night’s new deer,
or waking up with a song in one’s head
that one would sing even if one were dead,
or finding the sweet spot in ordinary days
between old and new, in mysterious ways,
or settling down towards the edge of night–
one’s daughter home, her dog balled up tight;
and little white donuts, all sugar, not spiced,
with DnD coffee — always hot (never iced)..
and Himself in a Tabernacle almost saying,
“It doesn’t take much; just don’t stop praying.”
One’s great happiness needn’t take much,
if one has gratitude (and such).
Most Romantic Lyrics:
U2 or Aerosmith?
Why? (Answer in comment section below)
Meet “Sofa” and “Lefty”
No point in naming one’s gray hairs,
they creep up on you unawares
–and often long after some fact;
but wrinkles are a diff’rent beast,
each one will shove you west or east
by fifty feet — they have no tact.
She said, he (?) said
Hm.. No, I don’t know
why you’re here, either
–let’s call it an accident.
It is not good for one of us
to be here… climb aboard,
now — don’t do that, hey!
Fold those wings back in,
wait… almost to the door…
(You’re a lightning bug:
everybody needs you..)
If (He) be raised up
And what of the emotional trauma
left perpetually in us by the dying–
why must we have witnessed it?
It is of no earthly or human good,
not in anyone’s kindest imagination.
Yes, so that we might understand
with more than intellect, with pores,
that a Lazarus death is as real as life–
though it be reverse-able by One, but
might this also be His Dysmas-gift
of a not-so-free pass, this suffering–
our littler hanging on a littler cross
–a penance, a purging, like no other?
(In response to today’s prompt)
It was in another world
that we met in a burst–
one that had no time, dying, or
shadows we couldn’t take..
until it did.
It is perhaps time to find
a new world (at least one)
less deadly; we can.
I move out
in a wide radius
I can stray fairly far
or simply be wounded
or shunned, like…
but I know I will be
tugged back to Golgotha
where unto death
I’m Wanted even now
because I hung
my own leash on a nail
that looked like my name
inside an open Palm.
“In a while —”
As a matter
of fact, yes —
my life really
is that small.
Lesson in lavender
Lilacs have no time to mope
–too busy germinating hope.
Here in da (elder)‘hood
Must be watched
with close attention:
Play-doh cans —
(not trashed —
I can’t remember
where they’re stashed).
I’d rather Transform into a Camaro..
Does animal meat so quickly eaten
but slowly digested, incrementally
become our molecules.. our flesh–
the meaty skin around our pores?
If so, one thing shall remain sure:
no part of me will turn into lamb!
May’ve eaten too much fowl, tho’–
because if not that, what explains
the steady growing of arm-wings?
I perused many donated books yesterday..
Held Tolstoy, Dostoevsky in a love-you way;
cradled some how-to, Jane Austen’s Emma,
and a rhyming dictionary for poetic dilemma.
The 5 grew fumblish while I searched each rack.
Thumbed thru the 5; one by one they went back.
It wasn’t so much they’re a dollar a pop —
‘though a lifelong skinflint rarely can stop..
I’d set out for poetry, if the truth be known,
yet arrived in an unmarked no-poetry zone!
Reassuring, how folks part not with booked verse,
but I drove home bereft —and mis-rhymed a curse!