Best Barrettes Poems

A is for Aprons, like Moms used to wear.
B is for Barrettes that adorn young girls’ hair.

C is for Coats, many colors and styles.
D is for Diamonds, best friends that brings smiles.

E is for Elbow pads skateboarders use.
F is for Flippers folks might wear on...

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Still hallowed is the well, and so they pray,
offer: prayer cards, candles, and bitty photos
of children to come and those now unmade,
each woman rife with grief in longing’s throes.

The sound of stream shakes beneath their feet
in the grotto chiseled from native stone.
Niches, shelves and ledges...

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It was old fashioned shopping,....floors were warm planks of wood
Where footsteps sounded hallow, and the walls were lined with goods
A “5 and 10” cent heaven, … was the friendly Woolworth's Store
One would always be surprised, what revolved behind that door

How quickly flew the hours of...

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Dainty, Black Pasha of Egypt, diamonds sitting solitaire, set in rose gold, barrettes swinging from my daughter’s hair, she’s a Decillionaire, outside of God, her worth, nothing else could possibly compare, an isthmus, no an island surrounded by inhaled air, thy royal heir, Zeus -n-...

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A Girls Night Out


They were there, the girls,
each attired in appropriate finery,
clashing generational coifs,

varied displays of fine jewelry,
diamonds, gold bracelets, barrettes,
classic stiletto heels, sparkling sneakers

and a well worn, sensible black shoe.
Four beautiful women going out
and I the lucky man to attend them.

My daughter, beautiful, bronze...

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Back in 1957 
kissing Carol Ann 
behind the barn 
in the middle of 
a windswept field 
of Goldenrod 
with a sudden deer 
watching was 
something special, 
let me tell you. 
Back then, bobby sox 
and big barrettes
and ponytails 
were everywhere.

Like many farmers, 
Carol Ann's father...

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The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the...

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The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged, bobby socks, red Keds, 
barrettes, T-shirt and shorts;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the...

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I was not the outgoing one.
That was Shelly.
I was not the perky one.
That was Sheila.
I was not a 60”s diva.
That was Shirley.

They were the ‘It’ Girls.
I was THAT other one. 
The one who wore matching barrettes,
And black and gray clothes. 

No color.
No pizzazz.
No wow factor.

There...

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Vivacious children, drama Queens and Kings 
wearing mother rags and big old father hats 
One held a pot with a silver spoon for bang  
the other held an old guitar bereft of strings

Gathering their peers they opened up the show   
in Jimmy's...

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It's 4:07 a.m.
This week I have had a virus, two asthma episodes, a biopsy, and I have traveled over 600 miles to see 6 grandchildren who got strep throat before my return.
I have been playing catch up today, Easter.
Because I have 4 baskets to create,...

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I want to attach stuff to the ceiling of my house.
The house is full, the walls are saturated. The ceiling is blah.
All white, boring, basic, not quite clean, but bland.
The tables are cluttered, no one has decorated their house more.
Any thing I ever truly liked...

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The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the...

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Earlier today April 4th, 2022,
which supersedes bald faced headlines 
pointing finger and 
Putin blame for Bucha killings
squarely on head & shoulders
of Russian autocrat, née
yours truly lathered 
his hirsute higglety-pigglety 
thinning oily tresses. 

Hark….the herald angels sing, 
snapchat and twitter Uber view doo 
for mass communication...

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Another Easter spent
feasting on Jelly Bean Martinis,
sculpting butter lambs
with Nana’s mastiff Escort
snoring by tabletop fire.

Aunt Bea smoked lemongrass,
shading wooden eggs 
with Dappled Willow shrubs.

A whimsical Slovakian cousin
suggested we whip each other with willow rods,
sprinkle ice-choked water on the women,
then blacked out on the buffalo grass
after...

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