Bonnie’s Day Off

On his way out the door Bonnie kisses Clyde goodbye and says in her quiet voice, y’know, that voice, “Hey Honey, pick up some money at the bank on your way home, will ya?”

OK, not poetry. But it is amusing and has a rhyme… honey/money, which reminds me… Please check out my donation/tip page on your way through.

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Sweet Home / Two Beats Of Silence

There are two versions of this verse. Which do you prefer?

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When I am done with being right
And you are done with being wronged

Perhaps then we can speak of something small and bright
That we can both agree upon.

Calligraphy by Catharine Hoffmaster

This lovely piece of calligraphy is from the hand of Catharine Hoffmaster. It’s full size is about 20 inches by 8 inches. It hangs in my kitchen.

…………………………………………

When I am (or you are or we are) done with being right
And you are (or we are or I am) done with being wronged

Perhaps then we can speak of something small and bright
That we can all agree upon.

 

First version published in: “Letter to the White Imbongi” 2013 as “Two Beats of Silence” : “Poems for Relationships” 2017: “3201 e’s” 2018

A Gentle Scent

A gentle scent surrounds me.  It eddies,
flows, reminds me.  I dream.  Look long
and away until just so and seeing you
and having only to say—  I seize upon
some flower, something I love, you see,
and say—  This is where I begin.  This is
where I am.  This is where I am re-awoken.
And in that span you hold me with interest,
with affinity.  You who can never end,
whose beginning is before time—
From non-existence you rekindle me.

 

Published in: “Letter to the White Imbongi” 2013: “Poems for Relationships” 2017

Softly

Hold me, fold me
Like a dove
Kiss me now
Before I go
Here I am
Once more, My Love
My Love, before I go

Gently, softly
Like a prayer
Lay beside me
Hold me still
Defend me
When I fall, My Love
My Love, I fear to go

 

On the day I came back from the hospital after my heart had acted up.

Published in: “souls arriving” 2006: “Between Music and Dance” 2013: “Poems for Relationships” 2017”: “3201 e’s” 2018.

Let us say

Let us say that we have loved
and though good women,
though good men,
admit the hatreds too.

And looking, just by looking,
find that love may be
the greater of the pair
and love, the bed upon which
hate must heal.

Let us say that we have loved.

 

Published in: “Poems for Relationships” 2017 (earlier version): “3201 e’s” 2018

Caveat

A sonnet is a dandy thing all dressed
In pomp and form and run-on lines and things—
Enough to make the weary take up wings.
Though this is but my third, I must confess,
Lifetimes ago I wrote with zing and zest
And sonnets then were little songs to sing
To fluttering breasts and nightingales— or slings
Against misfortune, kings, and other pests.

No poet’s court has ever sat assize
Sans sonnets quick and cleverly contrived.   
Fair queen or country maid, though each its prize—
The sonnet’s virtue rests in parted thighs.
Finer roe has never graced a sturgeon
Nor caveat much mattered to a virgin.

 

Caveat is a warning or caution. Assize is a court or can be a judgement. Used here as “in judgement.” Sans is an English word stolen from the French about 700 years ago. Means “without.”

Published in: “souls arriving” 2006 as “Sonnet 003”

Enjoy the sunshine (when she comes)

Enjoy the sunshine when she comes
Enjoy the blue skies cleared of grey
And with a glad song in your heart
Enjoy the sunshine when she comes

Enjoy the sun through dancing leaves
Enjoy her warmth against your skin
Enjoy the flowers and the green
Whatever else your day may bring

Enjoy the sunshine when she comes
It’s been a while my dear old friend
Since we have walked and talked and laughed
Something we should do again

Enjoy the sunshine when she comes
Until then—

 

Published in: “Poems for Relationships” 2017: “3201 e’s” 2018

At Least Until This Fairy Tale is Over

Her bags are packed, left by the door. She looks away waiting for her ride to come. Just waiting.

You met her on a holiday. You can’t recall who else was there. She’s moved along and left you holding empty air. Empty rooms and empty halls fill the days you’ve lost count of and left an empty bed alone beside you.

You met her one late-summer day, or was it autumn, who can say? Like falling leaves you fell one for the other. The mornings were the best of all. The evenings melted into dawn and dawn again.

And then one day she said goodbye. Without a word, she said goodbye. Her eyes had someone else inside. You asked yourself when this all started.

Now every girl you see instead and every time you turn your head and all the names on every street, the colors of the sky at night, your bed at dawn—days pass you by, whatever tells you you’re alive tells you that you’re dead inside.

You keep her pillow by your own, wake up late each afternoon but still you wake up as alone. And then one day you’ve cleared your mind, you bring her back and let her slide away again.

Now mornings fade from grey to green and somewhere in the days between you catch an eye, she catches you and spends a night or maybe two. The hallway and the living room, the shower and the kitchen floor—what else had they existed for?

Now every smell of every flower, every early morning shower and all the songs on every street, the colors of the sky at night, her kiss at dawn, the rising light, whatever tells you you’re a man tells you you’re alive again. Yet stories like this never end like fairy tales.

With every smell of every flower, every early morning shower and all the songs on every street, the colors of the sky at night, her kiss at dawn, the rising light, whatever tells you you’re a man tells you you’re alive again at least until this fairy tale is over.

 

Published in: “souls arriving”: 2006 as “His story”: “Between Music and Dance” 2013 as “Beside You” : “Poems for Relationships” 2017: “3201 e’s” 2018  

Sally

“Don’t be silly, Dad, I’m your only daughter.”

“Yes. But you’d still be my favorite even if you had a dozen sisters and as many brothers.”

“And your mother is my favorite wife.”

“Oh Dad, you only have one.”

“… At a time. And anyway, she would still be my favorite even if those other wives were favorites too, if I loved them all as much as you.”

 

First night

I remember the moment you first saw the light
The moment you reached up and held my hand tight
The moment you took your first steps in the world
Each moment, each step— Now no longer a girl
I remember these moments, each one of them bright
Like the moment I held you that very first night

 

First night” celebrates the birth of my daughter.