my poet is at once a total stranger
and one so familiar with new words
my poet is sudden, surprising
enchanting, comforting, precise
my poet is playful, iconoclastic
and exploring beyond categories
These black slippers
Bear witness to their age
Backs caved in
Fuzzy part’s gone
Old reliable must be worn
Bottoms wearing through
No traction when I walk
Longevity’s still valued
Like Willy Loman
Attention must be paid
when my mind is free-floating
I always take the long way home
the route secures a path for itself
disclosing what’s on my mind
the long way is a method for discovery
an interval to unravel the knotted twine
most of the time.
Now the boys loved their faithful dolphin companion,
Flipper. How he was always there for them in times
of danger or grave peril. How did he do this? How
did he know? Well, it’s simple: the ocean is filled
with hundreds of thousands of dolphins who love
little boys, and all look pretty much identical.
And dolphins are exceedingly polite, and
always willing to say “After you, sir.”
pretty good is truly as good as it gets
take my word on it, don’t make any bets
decades of experience reinforce the plot
don’t push it, be happy with what you’ve got
improvements turn out to be a mirage
so enjoy your man-cave in the garage
this is the best advice I’ve ever had
pretty good usually beats pretty bad
you’d better not fall in love with me
that wouldn’t be a great place to be
even if you’re lonesome just like me
I’m hoping I don’t fall in love with thee
I’m so used to living life totally free
maybe together’ll be best for you and me
I’d take a chance if you’ll take a chance with me
Towards the end of life
you count the cost
of all you’ve gained
and all you’ve lost.
Like your spouse and loved ones,
who’ve passed away,
and those cherished possessions,
that dissolved in space!
Not to forget elderly gains,
of arthritic joints and progressing pain,
with bouts of dysfunction, and crippling disease,
and uncomfortable accompanying indignities!
You yearn for sweetness, but suck on dregs;
as memory stutters, and the body decays…,
for the important things have faded away,
leaving tedious, boring, purposeless days;
and the only question that still remains,
is what, if anything, lies beyond the grave!
I dread the winter’s coming on
The trees without their dressings
I fear the winter’s dark, cold moan
Long shadows without blessings
Bare tree limbs are upward reaching
Where the sunlight seems to fail
I hear the sound of great owls screeching
Trees look like witch”s fingernails
I hate the cold that winter brings
Dark, dank weather for each day
It seems as if I’ll never sing
Or see again sun’s lovely rays
My body aches and hollow feels
Furnace and fireplace are roaring on
But to me they don’t seem real
No heat can reach into my bones
Oh, winter will you last so long
With dreary rain and colder mist
Oh, how I wish that you were gone
And Spring would put on me it’s kiss
I’m not used to getting old just need a little more time I’m struggling with limitations a tunnel at the end of the light it’s my first time in this cycle senile stereotypes get to me so, I’ll simply keep my eyes out everything’s bound to change