wash day on the farm
amish dresses and work pants
strung out on lines
little girls' bonnets
plain white matching socks
slight afternoon breeze
Blue’s Clues Cue for the Kidding Kids
Wonder about the kids we raise,
Too many screwy videos in a haze,
Take your bids, it’s a twisted game,
I smoked a lid just to feel the same.
Skid row’s tale that is far from fantastic,
Put it on plastic, the world can be drastic.
[Chorus]
We might NOT be heaven bound,
Yet we wear the crown, cannot keep us down,
Sipping the blues, got the rhythm of the town,
In a world of chaos, we stand our ground.
[Verse 2]
Been with another fiend, it isn’t just a dream,
Not another green bean caught in the scheme,
Join the A-Team, we’re pulling it tight,
Black and white, read all over the fuss,
While Mars rover takes off in the dust.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
Blue Bonnets bloom in the moon’s glow,
No one needs to know, just let it flow.
gaslights, cobblestone streets
horse-drawn carriages
markets and town squares
folks barter and meet
frilly lace dresses, topped by bonnets
a handsome hat, with a feather on it
merchants hawk their wares with flair
a festive feeling pervades the air
where did it all go, why is it gone
when nothing replaced it
‘cept Amazon
The little buck wags his rump at our sky,
bangs his last unscathed knee on our latched door.
Bullied by a gargoyle's bulbous black-eye
o'er the fields of play where his heart could soar.
Outside claims the unkept feet of the spry,
as busy children of the world explore.
How auspicious are white clouds with sunshine
and belles in butterfly bonnets of twine!
The haberdasher is open for all
who come to visit the quaint little town~
he sells silly notions of every kind:
bells and buttons, beads and bows, musical
whimsies to delight and upright a frown,
perhaps a potion designed and refined,
dolls and dresses, lace and chiffon, dainty
kerchiefs for dandy's distain, balloons
for the party, flowers for the ball, nice
little gumdrops and large lollipops, bees
for bonnets and crayons to draw cartoons
for the king, plus fancy traps to catch mice.
The haberdasher will have what you need
(in the back room he may even have weed).
There are forty-eight dolls in this guest room
I see them staring at me
Many wear porcelain bonnets
They are statues with accusing faces
I wonder if they came from Salem
I feel they have come for me
Blue Bonnets
Purple Flowers
Velvet Clouds
Lupinus Collective
March 7, 1901
Texas state flower
Pioneer on open fields
Blue-Bonnets reflects Beautification
Fields of blue as for as you can see
Some patches along the high-way
During spring break
Family pictures
Family traditions
Capture The moment
Blue-Bonnets fly by on the open road
Diligence like a blue feather
Beautiful blue flowers painted like a picture
Just traveling through
Fields of Lavender
Never in someone's front yard
Always miles apart
The wind moves the moment
Time flyers by in Velvet
Why won’t poets write about us?
Is rhyming with orange that troubling?
Don’t we, like other fruits need thus:
To be showered with praises all bubbling?
We have stunning looks and great taste
But where are the poems and sonnets?
We are saddened that no one makes haste
To promote us on shirts or bonnets.
We hate to complain about this,
But it’s awful and gone on too long!
It has come to a state of injustice
And us oranges can’t “move on.”
Will someone pen us a platitude,
Or wax about orange’s great name?
Or will cowards offer no gratitude
And we linger on, having no fame.
The next time you savor our juice
Or peel our remarkable skins,
We will pardon the years of abuse,
If poets will pick up their pens!
Blue Cheese and Old Pickles – 3-14-25 Dedicated to my Grandmother Pickel and her famous pickles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blue Cheese and Old Pickles
Forgotten in a tapestry of shadows
Woven in long twilights and long rows
Of blue cheeses, tomatoes, daisies and flying salmon
Shelves, birthing dust bunnies,
Give up the last jar of her pickles
Sealed in clear mason glass
Still smelling of dill and garlic and her hands.
Her handiwork still looks
As fresh as crisp cucumbers
Gathered in fields wearing sunflower bonnets
And the scent of new earth readied
To grow round again
With new seeds
Not to forget the children she gave into angel’s hands.
Brought into the light, her love shimmers
Through the artistry of her hands
A rhapsody, sealed and sung across decades,
Plays as I ladle jam and new pickles into her jars,
Savoring my harvest with gorgonzola on toast
And raspberry sherbet on a waffle cone.
On spewing wave, our departing ride
Crazed currents crack, an azure slide
Freedom mingles in sea foam seethe
Cobra throat coast gulps river relieve
Estuary entry rests, rushing ruthless
Canoe oar dip downtempo soothe us
Convulsing closing, seen from stern
To mayhem mouth we shan’t return
Silver silt filters salt, lake lap littoral
Ranges ahead etch graduating blues
Drift beside reeds, bird pews hymnal
Harp strum seraphim strike chords
Nacreous nematodes writhe towards
Tiny sun centre lace tutus feverfew
Pirouette pirogue wet on dawn dew
Papery apron snapdragon bonnets
Bloom ten a stem syllable sonnets
Cut log capsule covets its heritage
Forested foothills fix ship wreckage
Fir hands welcome hung hammock
Cosy ocean recoil, mountains titanic
Sixth of November
- upstream -
In the depth of the night, a concerto commenced,
With drums of thunder and a melody of rain.
Wind flutes played loud sniveling notes,
Carrying pulsating tunes in blustery tones.
Streaks of lightening, with their baton of light,
Led the blasting orchestra with dynamic might.
Trees swayed wildly, leaves scattered with force,
Rain soaked the paths, shattering dense shadows.
As dawn tiptoed, with the sun’s gentle caress,
Melodic whistles, cheeps and croaks took the stage.
Blue bonnets danced, greeting butterflies and bees,
Jays and cardinals capered under the radiant trees.
Hummingbirds frolicked around the buds of paintbrush,
Grackles called out in an enthusiastic rush.
Scissor-tailed flycatchers hovered, tails unfurled,
Charmed their mates with their squeaks and chirrs.
Pinkladies and Firewheels in their spectacular array,
Welcomed the day, luring pollinators their way.
The storm disappeared, giving way to a tranquil zephyr,
Joyfulness prevailed, in awe of Mother Earth’s endeavor.
"Be still my heart!"
The thunder, the splatter,
all the drenching liquid matter --
then the storm passes,
and out come beautiful lasses,
clipping roses for bonnets,
choosing beaus for dearer sonnets -- it's really about love --
as chopsticks for soup
like a monkey eating scotch bonnets
you have to want it
good luck is a myth
thin as a Theban cookie
as your skin if you don't get it
checked-off triggers in academia
fired as a porcelain finger up
kilned in an undertone of glazing
grace is a saying and a Name
tweaked as an ego or a jacket
potato is a hashing at 3 a.m.
iHopper lingering is a tension
getting to the hearth of it
another homer hit past time's fence
foe knocking at your big teeth in front
like a door to your cheeks
puffed with a nut-angle oblique
playing a game of mother elephant
a recess abbreviated by a bad pronunciation
intonation of inspiration at the bell
wrung and swung along a well-tread trail
as dirty as a thurible
A regiment of sunflower golden disks
Turns heads
Assembled all summer for the daily
Love ambush
Upon the five o’clock rush
At the I-496 interchange
Home
Of pizza joints hotels and gas pumps
Who had the last laugh?
To plant in the highway construction zone with public money
This patch of bumblebee bonnets?
Whoever you are you restored my faith
Now
Under the October sky that’s held no sun
Not even for a single day
A type of autumn jewelry robbery
The crumpled sunflowers
Give up and fall face-first into the mud
Get back on one knee
With a wonder if any soul ever did see
Their trance upon the shining orb’s
Coming and going?
Yes, yes I did! Every exhausting end of the day!
I want to park my car on the ecliptic ramp
Fall from my tires and bend with the dying flowers
Faceless all of us
Reassure ourselves
Light is still up there somewhere traveling
Hidden as it is
Like another light perpetually cycling
From root to heart to crown
Earth to forest seas to heaven
The sun abound again and again.
Glossy, heart-shaped leaves of galax
ringed ‘round the lingering lilacs
that played across the garden gate,
bent now – bowed from foliage’ weight.
Wild roses replace Venus et fleur
having a sweet natural alure.
Chicory and Madonna lily
grow here and there, and willy-nilly.
Bachelor buttons and blue bonnets
clothe the field with unsung sonnets.
Coreopsis and black-eyed Susans
frolic with their rambunctious cousins.
Of all the flowers God has wrought
I love the ones that were last thought.
Haphazard flair of wild flowers
bestow joy with dewy showers.
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