If 9 were 6 and 6 were 9,
Everything would be just fine.
Ballgames wouldn't take quite so long,
Fewer clouds needed for a feeling so strong.
The Revolution's number wouldn't be so high,
And we'd sleep a bit deeper after we die.
But cats would have to be more careful,
And rolling dice would be less cheerful.
I suppose it wouldn't be a universal fix,
To make 6 into 9 and 9 into 6.
under the dirt, under the grass
live creatures fantastic we never see
just as on the ocean bottom
glide fish we cannot imagine
to think that in our gut are all sorts
of bacterium striving for dominance
and we oblivious, place bets on ballgames
conniving to hide what we've already consumed
Excursions, picnics, get-togethers, ballgames
An exhausted father slumps into his favorite armchair, leans back --
Ah, the pot of gold at the end of ‘his special day’
…Dad hobbles outside – bad knees and all – to set up
the sprinklers and haul in the gear from the van
Fields of stars blanket warm summer skies
Songs of crickets and cicadas overwhelm the senses
In reply, fireflies dot the lawn
Full of dandelions and buttercups waiting for dawn
Far away flashes of summer heat strike with no sound
Showing distant lands and tops of massive thunderclouds
Soft shadows decorate the walls
upon silent ears quiet murmurings fall
a transistor radio blares its tiny sound
of ballgames in concrete stadiums ,
bright lights and a pitchers mound
Overhead fans stir dark sleepy rooms
Screened in porches give way to fleeting cool breezes
Heavy lids with dreams in flight
Soften those warm summer nights
A nice, pretty Jewish woman
told me a while back
that she thought Basketball was for Black people
What she didn't realize is that it used to be called
"The Jewish Game".
I passed through a period as a youth when
I wanted to become a basketball player
Well, I am now a poet
Maybe one day I will write a poem
about Elgin Baylor or George Mikan
Know who they were?
They were fine ballplayers
Memories of ballgames
are burned into my consciousness
ONE CAN ALWAYS DREAM!
If we want to live in a northern latitude,
to the winter’s weather, we must adjust our attitude.
In the cold temperatures, we have to thrive.
Keeping warm is what we need to stay alive.
I certainly never get any joys or thrills
when I have to pay higher heating bills.
If I want to enjoy myself on any winter’s day,
shoveling snow is certainly never the way.
Fender benders make all the claims adjusters sick
whenever the roads get icy and slick.
I want to see the flowers in my garden grow.
To ballgames and beaches is where I want to go.
I want to give winter the heave-ho.
January 24, 2013
You seemed to love me and I thought it was real,
Young and foolish, I was so naive but quite genteel,
Attended all your ballgames, cheered you on with zeal,
Even learned curling so we could join your bonspiel.
I played your queen at functions, you had a great deal,
Said you loved me once, I thought that was the seal.
After your presidency was done, you played the heel,
Said it was over between us, our situation was not ideal,
Your expression was matter of fact, your face cold as steel,
Suddenly I felt nauseous my world spinning like a wheel,
Looking in your eyes, this whole courtship was surreal.
Did everything you asked of me, my love I cannot repeal,
Could anyone truly love you more, that was my appeal.
For once you became quiet, this relationship a lying ordeal,
My words, my actions ~ If all I did, was make you feel.
Written October 7, 2011
For Paula Swanson’s contest
“If all I did, was make you feel”
Patience
Patience is something I know that I lack,
I’m one waiting line away from a heart attack.
I want immediate satisfaction, immediate result,
I’m running a race, not dancing a waltz.
I’m always early, I’m never late,
Procrastination is something I hate.
I’m not one to sit on my hands,
My attention span is like a rubber band.
Pull me too far, I’ll snap and break,
Yet you tease me to see how much I can take.
You say “a good woman is worth waiting for”.
And you’re smiling all-the-while I’m pacing the floor.
“Patience my dear” you say with a grin,
As we walk out the door, late once again.
Evening finally comes and you’re ready for bed,
You fluff up the pillow under your head.
“Are you coming My Love?” a passionate cry,
“In a minute Sweetheart, the ballgames a tie”.
Patience!
What I sometimes see before sunset or sunrise,
is one of the most beautiful things before my eyes.
A reddish sky through branches of the chestnut tree,
permeating the heavens is what I can see.
The pink hues remind me of cotton candy.
That is my childhood treat so sweet and sticky.
Cherished times in earlier days I reminisce.
Few moments of my past are as sweet as this.
I devoured the treat at ballgames and carnivals too.
The candy was spun in pink, and sometimes blue.
I wondered if pink was for girls and blue for boys.
Both colors and flavors brought me many joys.
I've reached the age of going to school,
learning letters, and the golden rule.
I'm growing fast thats no lie,
I've just graduated into junior high.
Classes, ballgames, parties, and fun,
my wonderful life has just begun.
Friends, teachers, pets, and, Beaus,
dresses, proms is a part of lifes little woes.
I'm a senior now and all is well.
These twelve years have really been swell.
Off to college to get a degree.
I'll have to work hard for these are not free.
I'm engaged and marriage is soon,
with family, friends, and the most handsomest Groom.
God joined us together a family to make.
A wonderful blessing. He makes no mistakes.
Thats right!! Twins you see
It's a boy for you and a girl for me.
God was so good blessing our home.
With lots of memories for now they are grown.
I'm a Grandmother. Time has gone by.
I smile with the memories, but never a sigh.
For me no end is in sight.
My real life begins with my heavenly flight.
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