I thought:
why not write a love poem,
everyone is doing it,
how hard can it be?
First, I need a woman
(let's not drag my wife into this exercise),
a pet dog or cat perhaps.
Maybe some sexual content
(best to rule out the dog and cat).
Once I wrote about a certain flower
remarking upon its sprays of golden showers,
some smart ass wrote back asking
if I knew what the term 'golden showers' meant?
Got me thinking.
Probably need romantic sensitive moments
under moonlit glitzy stars -
pursed lips slurping up sticky passions.
What I got is a nice wife and a dopey-eyed dog,
just about enough I reckon.
Bon appetite!
Cheers to you,
Cheers to me!
These taters
So buttery.
Mmmhm,
Indeed.
Hot to the touch
But this rib rack
So tender,
So I'll cut them
Some slack.
Each day serves its own dish regardless if it is to our liking or not.
© Demetrios Trifiatis
03 May 2021
To Israel Kamakawiwo, IZ
Tell him the sea has receded and the stars are jumping on its bare bed.
Tell him that history was a seagull hungering our names.
Tell him, if he is silent, if he isolates himself, God appeased the volcano,
created for us this island.
Tell him that I wait for him under the almond tree, barefoot and still tousled,
with shimmering hoops. Hawaii, Izzy surfing clouds, playing ukulele.
The double checkout line made clear
That if you have a cart,
You join the people on the left
And help to do your part
To move the lines much faster.
If a basket you do hold,
The right-hand side is where you go;
The sign is big and bold.
So there I waited; in my basket
Three things I was buying.
My line was long but moving fast,
Most customers complying.
But naturally, a few spots up,
A woman did depart
From courtesy and manners,
For she pushed a filled-up cart.
No store employee sent her back;
Nobody reprimanded
And those of us behind her
Lacked the chops her move demanded.
Some people think that rules exist
But that they are exempt.
Such selfish rude entitlement
Deserves our best contempt.
"Would you like barbeque chicken,
or country steak with gravy?"
"Uh, huh."
"You want both?"
"Uh huh."
Her tablemate drools, bottom lip
hanging. He stares at his menu,
waiting for someone to take his order.
An aide rolls a wheel chair to the table
for four. "Stay there!"
Her harsh tone seems inappropriate
for the tiny lady with frizzy curls.
"Mom, what would you like for dessert,
butterscotch pudding or chocolate cake?"
"Uh huh."
"You want both?"
"Uh huh."
Leftward movement draws my eye.
Frizzy curls is on the move.
She's booking out of the dining hall,
fast as her feet can peddle.
The trays arrive. I unwrap cutlery,
pour milk, place Mom's bib around her neck.
Her table-mate digs in, unassisted.
Mother stares at her plate, picks up
her fork, pokes at her food.
The fourth place at the table
remains empty.
There was a ripe randy old tart
when kissing her John she did fart
that's nothing she said
'cause he wets the bed
Who cares it's all ala carte!
when I love, I love generously
carte blanche with my heart
always giving all I have
once those feelings start
my love like a credit card
the sky the limit for every charge
this way that I love someday
will be returned in the same way
There were two cardinals separated by a tree branch with fruit.
One was a female and the other was a male.
Her four fruits were ripe and his one was not so he became a brute.
She was to the left and he was to the right and looking pale.
Her purple fruits put off enough to make her some ale.
His green fruit was at his feet and were mute.
She kept her guard up waiting for him to sail.
But he never would follow suite.
She became the fruit of the highest branch on the highest tree.
He just sat there perched and barren not even producing the first seed.
She came to be,
The cardinal in lead!
But he never moved from his tree branch,
He was at her feet forever she’s his carte blanche!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2004
Your table is ready , Sir ...
Burp... Pardon me ...