Rain Bath

Drizzle drips like a persistent faucet
and the tears slide unchecked from my eyes.
The grayness of the day penetrates deep
to mix with the ugliness that is me.

I walk aimlessly, heavily with weight
pressing me slower. I have no real
destination; I just want to be away
from all that echoes my name.

Finally, too tired and worn to care,
I lay in wet grass and let the rain
course over me until I no longer feel
the dryness of my laughter.

Instead, a bone-chilling coldness
seeps through my body. I rise
and, with creaking bones, slog
my way wearily and deliberately home.

Another Day Closes

Another day closes
without any interest.
Nothing made it special
in its dreary downpour.

Let me feel the coolness
without the moisture.
Allow me to embrace wind
as the sun fights to warm.

I'm not ready for winter,
but biting temperatures
would, at least, make me
feel something.

Round Robin Six - A Parody

Ash black and the seven giants
terrorized the world by sheer size.
They lived in a shoe factory
with voracious appetites
and empty cupboards.

If you've ever woken up from a sound
sleep to the noise of carpets
being beaten to loosen their dirt,
imagine magnifying that noise
tenfold. At least
we had warning.

If the reverberation of footsteps
shook your door, it would be best
to empty the fridge on the floor
and hide below the stairs.
And, maybe, just maybe,
your home would be spared.

Many of the townsfolk feared
being eaten alive. If they
were hungry enough, nothing
was safe. The animals sensed
their presence as well.
No eggs have been laid.

Beans were planted at every
house hoping to steer the giants
to the heavens. If all else
failed, there would be plenty
to eat. Some tried their hand
at growing spinach too.

Fairy Tales

Fairy tales are not real.
They seldom happen in life,
but the idea of the magic
appeals nonetheless.

We kiss an ugly frog
and he turns into the prince
long sought in our hearts.
That is romantic.

We are rescued
from dire predicaments
by the man we really wanted.
That is fantasy.

We ride off into the sunset
and live life happily ever after.
That is just too good to be true.
But, it is what we desire.

Obsession

Our thoughts are the most
private possessions of our minds.
We carry them like pocket change
that jingles and sometimes
we cash in on the jackpot.

When possessions begin
to take over our lives,
though, that is a serious
wakeup call that must be heeded.
Obsession is death.

Once we no longer control
the force and direction
of our musings, we have
lost our grip on reality
and our sanity.

Revenge--call it grim reaper.
Life as we prefer it
can never be. Someone's
obsession made the choice
not to be.

October 8, 2005

As you move through this day,
you begin a new life, a new union.
May love and harmony sustain
the both of you as the melody
of life offers temptation.

Do not dwell on the unimportant.
Together, you will create
what really matters. You've
already started that process
today. A seed has been planted.

Nourish the growth as you would
the coming of a child. What you
nurture will be cherished much
as your future offspring will be.
Proceed with tenderness and care.

Treat each other well and always,
always remember those beginnings.
Take time to make memories
to share in the later years
of your life together. Be well.

Round Robin

I was put on the spot.
"First up," she said
without guidance
or inspiration; my brain
ponders the possibilities
and proves to be empty.

I have to submit something.
So, I stumble through
this poem and try
to give it meat even though
vegetables were suggested.
And, I fail miserably.

I find that writing does not help.
No ideas spring to life;
no juicy morsels fall
to my plate. I did, however
create eighteen lines
of pure, unadulterated
drivel. Thank you, Nan!

Autumnal Rites

If fall is death,
then I prefer the way
nature handles demise.
The air has a crispness
and the colors burst
in their descent
to dust.

The autumnal tree
offers its fallen fruit
to be gathered and stored.
Forgive the occasional
dent in the bodies
of cars on their way
to ground.

Harvest the crop
and clear the earth;
prepare its winter blanket.
Can and freeze quickly
to ease the burden
of the shorter,
grey days.

Escape

Pretty whispered lies
take advantage
of the wandering mind
of a satisfied body.

Tell me your plans
for us. And tell me
you'll treasure me
for all time.

Build me up slowly
then knock it down.
I've become used
to disappointment.

I've never played chess
but the wooden horses
delight my senses
as a means to escape.

A memory of smoke
will be all he takes
into his breath
when this old rag quilt

uses drastic measures
to get out of the sugar snow.
Lace it up tighter
and I'll be on my way.