Poems, stories, and scraps — both new and old. [☆ = best stuff] [CLASSIC = written long ago]
Poems written recently, generally posted the day of completion. Recently, my poems are more serious and philosophical, and *gasp* don’t always rhyme.
Old poem recently completed
I can’t recall us not together
Even before I met you, you were there
Behind the raindrops
Down each lonely road, waiting
But further than my courage would allow
When I finally met you, my life became complete
But it took me some time to realize this
I can’t imagine being without you, or being with someone else
I hope our time together makes us both happy
And when we finally part ways, we will, looking back, be amazingly satisfied with our lives
I woke up a couple days ago with this poem in my head. Had I already written it? Is it someone else’s poem? I don’t know….
There once was a woman name Marty
Who went to a neighborhood party
She met a rich guy
With a wink in his eye
And now she drives a Ferrari
The level of adventure
From yesterday to now
Is more than I can fathom
But I need to figure how
I found myself a captive
Mentally at least
My date was such a problem
Essentially a beast
I’m glad the date is over
So glad we parted ways
I’m trying to recover
And surface from the haze
Now I’ve learned a lesson
When searching for a date
Use an online app or date site
Not some sign found on a gate
Mostly now recovered
I’m at a shopping mall
But wait, that looks intriguing —
Phone number on a wall…
If you’ve never been to Boston
You should go there once or twice
It’s a bit different from Austin
People there are very nice
Are you wondering what I meant
When I wrote ‘there’ up above?
Was I complementing Boston
Or another place I love?
Every place has good and bad things
Plus, depending on your view
You may like things others don’t like
What you like is up to you
Every place is worth a visit
You should judge it for yourself
And re-visit if you like it
Or just put it on the shelf
If everybody living now
Was always giving all they can
We’d find ourselves within a world
Where all would love their fellow man
The point of giving is to show
The value others are to you
Plus those that give create respect –
Receivers now know what to do
We should value one another
As much as we respect ourselves
A world where everyone would give
Would be the best world for ourselves
So please assume those you don’t know
Are kind and loving, just like you
Assume they’re friends, connect with love
This is the best thing you can do
I wrote this before I knew I had depression caused by ALS. I’m taking depression medication now, so my head is in a better place, but my body isn’t.
The life I lead is less than the life I follow
I need to find more purpose, more value, more soul
My emotions are empty, my brain feels nearly hollow
As if I’m buried in a deep, dark hole
My wife fills most the gaps that I am missing
She feeds me, pays the bills, maintains the house
I feel guilty, but too lazy to contribute
She’s wonderful — my lovely, helpful spouse
I’m trying (hard?) to move in the right direction
Exercise, therapy, and meds
With luck, I’ll make real progress going forward
And fix the challenge swirling in my head
I was doing some yard work a few weeks ago, and ran into a bunch of spiderwebs. We have seven redwood trees in our backyard, and are likely the home for all spiders in our entire neighborhood. As I was pulling webs off me, this poem started swirling in my head. (It is a take on the song Riders on the Storm by the Doors.)
We went to Lucy’s first communion, and she had a book for people to write congratulatory notes in. She told me not to write anything rude, which got my crazy (poetic) mind going – so I ended up entering this:
Lucy said ‘write nothing rude’
Because she’s in a silly mood.
But, I am a funny dude
Who has a lot of gratitude –
That Lucy’s in my life.
Not bad for slapping it together quickly. I’m a decent under-the-gun poet – another example being my Chicken Every Sunday poem, which I needed to quickly write and share with my siblings after a joint conversation about this mythical book.
Larry’s secret autobiography
So, to explain – there has been an ongoing joke among my siblings that my brother Larry wrote an ‘autobiography’ about my mom serving chicken every Sunday (which she did). Weirdly, there is an actual book titled ‘Chicken Every Sunday’ where one of my siblings subbed in Larry’s name.
We talked about it on a video call, so I felt compelled to write ‘the story’, but ended up with this poem – which I shared with my siblings. Each verse captures something from our childhood lives in West Virginia
May we have some frozen carrots?
May we have some frozen peas?
May we have some
chicken chicken
every every
Sunday, please?
Running barefoot down the alley,
Dust and oil up to our knees.
May we have some
chicken chicken
every every
Sunday, please?
Paint the house pink every summer.
Paint the bottoms of the trees.
May we have some
chicken chicken
every every
Sunday, please?
Bluegill fishing at Westvaco —
Catch one? There’re no guarantees.
May we have some
chicken chicken
every every
Sunday, please?
Find a horse and bring it back home
In the 1970s.
May we have some
chicken chicken
every every
Sunday, please?
Garage sleeping — we all did it.
Breezeway always brought the breeze.
May we have some
chicken chicken
every every
Sunday, please?
Love is an endless plummet into a dim but sparkling chasm
Hand in hand
Trusting the other to hold on tight and not let go
The destination less important than the journey
Love is a favorite novel, worn from use
Delightful and comforting
Each passage familiar, but with details missed or unremembered
Savoring each line, but eager to turn the page for what comes next
Love is a mad dash at the carnival
From ride to ride to ride
As many as we can before the lights go out and the fair closes
Out of breath, still smiling, long after the music fades from memory
Love is a timeless summer evening
The sun setting so slowly, it seems to hang in the sky, unmoving
Casting its copper light – embers visible well after the heat dies away
Until the welcoming night reaches its fingers to guide us home