POTUS aide Natalie Harp:
don't know much about her, but she sure dresses sharp!
The press calls her the "human printer",
but will she have to carry that copier all through the winter?
The heart will speak
with consent or not!
Will not be ruled
by logic Schooled –
Passion, a heart’s signet beat --
lesser thumps, go unrecorded.
No-way will a heart
be easily pacified – openly
bleeds~ inclined selflessly to feed
out...
Nor mere band-aide can
stem such profuse pouring, short of
a tourniquet noose -- its own rope
and spruce.
Yes, at its best, the heart cherishes,
and then, a pity, its own happiness
sometimes will raid – though the owner
tries reason, a world of intellectual appeasing,
the heart will simply not play nice -- will
not take its own tenderizing advice --
Will not let other source direct nor persuade --
The heart, of itself, both master and maid!
oh me oh my oh man oh me
shrieking in pain was the dog Wolfie
he was not used to feeling bad you see
I think I need a band-aide on my knee!
In twenty minutes we saw him, and he looked like mummy
How many bandages did you use up, dummy?
Wolfie bit me in my side when I questioned him.
If we were not out of bandages, I would use one I told Jim.
I wondered if my mom
heard the planets speak
the morning I got the call.
An aide at the group home
said my mom didn’t know
she was to die.
alone in the bedroom
An oxygen tube stretched
up to her nose, lungs failing
from years of smoking. My mom
thought it wouldn’t be her.
sun through the window
I asked her why she didn’t
want to be downstairs with
the others. She said she didn’t
want to be with old people
as if she could will herself
to live forever.
a house, not her own
The owner bought the house
to take care of her mother
until she died, and devoted
the place to take care of others.
my mom denied her age
I recalled somewhere
on a sidewalk children played
as the time when my mom
stood in a yard and watched me.
dandelions the flowers
[when]
seen by younger eyes
Have you seen the inoculator in the sky tonight?
I look up concerned, feeling a teensy bit of fright
What does it look like? I ask to my alarmist head.
A mammoth syringe full of vaccine juice, he quickly said.
Which one? I ask, staring up into the clouds so high.
Wondering if the Covid-19 vaccine is up in the sky.
He could be loaded with RSV, flu, shingles, or something worse.
I will take him, says the teacher’s aide, thinking of her purse.
Her school system pays staff five hundred dollars for each shot.
She’s had six so far, and will have more; I kid you not.
The anti-vaxer is screaming and running inside to hide.
Hoping the inoculator has no way to get inside.
My husband will take shingles, RSVP and Covid please
I might have Covid and RSVP but that’s all, said Louise.
I cannot get the flu shot, it sometimes has latex in it.
This is stated by Mrs. Leggs and is probably not true a bit.
To be a fly for a day
And exist far away
To land in the past
When pictures were gray
To see life in color
Hues vivid and bold
See my young mother
Before life made her old
Smell her brown hair
Draped as she lay
Then watch her stretch out
Prepare for the day
The light in her eyes
And spring in her step
Before life made her gray
And youthfulness left
Rapid wings blurring
As I’d trail her to school
Watching her giggles
Near by on a stool
Then by the lockers
I’d peek at her notes
Did she doodle in class
Make lots of jokes
Or was she concerned
Only of grades
Not the class clown
But, teacher’s aide
Did she hide out and smoke
Bell bottoms and braids
Then sneak back in class
Receiving all A’s
What were her dreams
Just being a mother
Or other ambitions
Her children would smother
She stayed home to raise kids
Did everything right
It seems we grew up
Just overnight
Her purpose seems gone
Now that we’re grown
She’s fighting depression
And being alone
If I could go back
And steer her away
From marriage and kids
A fly, I would stay
DAILY IMAGING GOD’S LABORS OF LOVE
Simon of Cyrene,
Is mirrored in me each day:
Me, helping others:-
With Simon’s spirit,
I daily aid cross-bearers;
God served, serving them:-
Like Cyrene’s Simon,
I, too, aide cross-bearing souls
In labors of love:-
In labors of love,
Reflecting unto others,
Being in God’s service:-
Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful. – Molly Ivins
G-7 Summit: A fly buzzes past
a plate of untouched canapés,
watches sharp suits nod at nothing,
landing briefly on a leaked memo~
climate action postponed, again.
It circles the champagne flute of a diplomat
who laughs too loud at a war joke,
then settles on the shoulder of an aide
texting: They still haven’t noticed the typo in the treaty.
The fly on the wall, sated on hypocrisy,
flies out, as unnoticed as the promises.
...it is impossible for God to lie, we who have taken refuge
would have strong encouragement to hold firmly
to the hope set before us."
Hebrews 6:18
Some parents fortify, supporting kids
to stay on top when testing waters’ depth.
Great expectations end, ev’n enemies,
are God's Supply, the wind and weight of wings.
A worthy teacher who embraces life
communicates those skills which stay the storms
for fledgling sailors, novice on their course.
God’s Sacred Scriptures lend sound teaching scope.
A mentor stands as aide to steady growth
during distortion from doubting deckhands.
Wise lessons bear resolve for hasty choice
when God's own Spirit is the mainstay - truth.
An anchor is one worthy of belief,
whose balance holds the navigator’s trust-
that hope - guardsmen put in their Savior’s hand
God's Son, my Anchor, yea my Cornerstone.
my own tiny Kansas environment owes me an apology
I have wanted a dog run built and it keeps getting promised
yet the powers that be have thrown rain into the equation
for two or three weeks, it is as if we have had a small tsunami
society is moving on without my input, aide or suggestions
I am tethered to my house, watching my puppy who chases cars
Worse, he runs around them as they drive and he follows pretty girls home
Two pretty girls keep bringing him back, and they all three seem to like it
I live in a fantasy world when I am not concentrating my energy on dog
A happy painter, a cartoonist, a poet, I keep busy.
in my art studio is a stack of thirty-two drawn out canvases.
I draw them out while I watch TV. I am adding paint to eleven others.
I am peter pan, but in female. I never want to grow up.
Never want to be part of the approved society, for I do not seek approval.
I seek fun, satisfaction and joy, and I am rarely disappointed.
My days are full of dragons, rainbows, faeries, and mushroom houses.
Alright everyone, quiet please!
May I tell a tale, I have the perfect story!
Well then sit....cause I'm going to....
Pull up a chair, or on the floor, that will do.
I'm elderly now as things are reckoned,
and I may just forget in the next second.
So hurry up! Find a seat. Be quiet and listen…
I'll begin when I have your full attention.
Bring me some water to wet my whistle.
I sure do get dry when I say a mouth full.
Thank you, my boy! Hey, are you my grandson?
Well, quickly, sit down since I haven't begun.
Where is the girl who made these treats?
I'll just have one while you settle your seats.
A cup of tea would not go a miss…
the bitter with sweet is hard to resist.
Now as I was saying…what was that my dear?
Let me turn up this aide so I can hear.
Tell you a story?
That's why your all sittin’ round me?
Well I'll have to think of one…now, let me see…”
I’m bringing out the songs
lingering inside
as patrons in the bar
gaze at me—
I’ve been waiting for this night
for the last two days.
I am looking for the stars
while singing from my heart.
I sing I’ve Just Seen a Face
something I first heard
in sixth grade when walking
into the classroom.
Through the years it stirs
sweet memories of women I met.
I sing I Will, a ballad
for women I’ll always love.
People at the bar
wave cellphones lit like lighters
at a concert.
When I sing Band on the Run
by Paul McCartney and Wings
a sense of wanderlust fills my soul
to go back to my college town
as if I could live my life again.
I’ve been an aide to child welfare workers,
a laborer, a temp, and poet, too.
But now to the glow of neon lights
I become someone other than
my everyday self
as music spells the night.
Emotional Burdens Set Sail on Dark Waters Lagoon
Adrift, Under the Soft Light of the Waxing Crescent Moon
Subtle the Reflection, the Tapered Lunar
Gently Glistened Dark and Murky Ethereal Water
The Rippled Surface Parted to Embrace Oshun's Daughter
Dark Waters, Uncharted Enchanted Tantric Whispers
With Urgency, Implores the Mystic Explorer
Seeking Light in the Dark
Hoping for Star Lights to Illuminate a Path
Opaque and Obscure Neptunian Watery Depth
Bubbles revealing a Treasure Cave where Creativity is Kept
Nurturing Seeds of Aspiration
Dark Waters Incubate Newly Conceived Inspiration
Piscean Streams of Motivation Needed
To Aide the Birth of the Water Lily Seeded
Dark Water, Dark Moon Daughter
Now Submerged In Blissful Abysmal Depths
Dreamy Trance, Her Secrets the Dark Waters Kept.
Crimson tide, Amber tears. Bones of gold, blood of iron
Hold me close to the fire
I seek my fathers aide
Warning, faithful to truth
Silver spirit, Orange soul
Broaden the scope
Trace down the shadows
Snowfall of blood
Marching to peace
Feathers bound up in leather
Kept from the flames
Made warm and safe
Words minted in bone
Zooming toward my own destruction
Powerful introduction to silence
Still alive, awake, aware, centered
Scorpions devour the stars
I’ve just invented something that I think you will applaud
I cannot tell you what it does or even what it’s called
I made it out of bits and pieces found up in my loft
I stuck a switch on one end and some sponge to make it soft
It has no moving parts so there’s no need for messy grease
I’ve hammered in some screws and nails so there’s no missing piece
It doesn't buzz or rumble… if it did you wouldn’t feel it
And as its purpose is unclear nobody’s gonna steal it
I painted one half red because the other half is green
My grandma said that colour combo simply can’t be seen
I didn’t have a plug so I won’t ever plug it in
And so you can be sure that it won’t make an awful din
It won’t wake up at five a.m. and get you out of bed
And if you wear it like a hat it won’t mess with your head
It’s wood and plastic, bits of tin, assorted nuts and bolts
It’s also very safe because it uses zero volts
If I could ever switch it on would it spring into life
Would it be an aide for me or useful to my wife
And could it be the best invention nobody has seen
I’m so proud of my red and green, invisible machine
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