Best Lazily Poems
Quietly content
listening to morning break
Sunday bliss in bed
The two yellow jackets lazily lay
Upon the chilled turnip leaf
This November autumnial day
Waiting to be warmed in the noon day sun
Maybe they're in love hoping above hope
To be spared many eggs somewhere to lay
New life to come next spring_ summer in scope
Sometimes yellow jackets mix in raked hay
Where their nest was disturbed on a fall eve
By tractors with blades that cut luscious grass
Then are caught in spinning baler in weave
That makes them so mad they come out fighting
Two yellow jackets lazily lay waiting
Glad there is a chance for them this day_mating
"The streams are my veins."
--Constance La France
Along the shores of the Ohio, I now call my home
My heart rests in its origins, for there I was born
Where New River and Gauley River lazily roam,
Making the old Kanawha, from which I was torn.
These “streams are my veins,” I will never scorn
Adventure-seething rivers ever “white with foam”*
Old and slow-moving, rich in beauty ne’er shorn
Along the shores of the Ohio, I now call my home.
The Kanawha flows into the mighty Ohio a-foam
Meandering through mountains time has worn
Where, as a boy, I photographed in Kodachrome
My heart rests in its origins, for there I was born.
Along shores of the New River, I played my horn
Seems music was always a part of my genome,
The languid rivers, with slow jazz I could adorn,
Where New River and Gauley River lazily roam.
These rivers cut through the rich fertile loam
Of my breadth and being, now aged, careworn
I have the mountain rivers’ motivating syndrome
Making the old Kanawha from which I was torn.
Running through my veins, melancholia forlorn
Surely embedded in my genetic chromosome,
Fed by the rolling rivers on a December morn,
Living by the mighty Ohio, I play my trombone
Along the shores.
Written August 1, 2022
*Quote from Irving Berlin's "God Bless America"
snake in a lake
I am less lazy now
swimming to shore
She loves me, she loves me not,
Puffing away at a Dandelion clock
On a timeless breathless afternoon
In a lush green Lambwaths paddock.
Six endless weeks of summer holiday
Somehow suddenly drawing to an end,
One of the last days of our last week
Enjoying my hours with my old friend.
Next week the last school year starts,
Life changing decisions to be made,
Some staying in the academic world
Most, like me, into work, maybe trade.
So this special afternoon of this week
The last long holiday most will know
Puffing at the Dandelion clock hoping
Just for a while time will gently slow
Knowing this special afternoon
With this special friend
Marks the start of the months
Bringing childhood to an end,
A long frenzied year that from
Its slow but inevitable start
Will change our directions
And force our lives to part.
The summer sun’s lazy heat,
The murmuring little stream,
Inducing a pleasant state
Almost like a living, waking dream.
She loves me, she loves me not
Both more than just a little sad
As our dandelion clocks count
Down to the loss of what we’d had.