Dotting Poems

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I sometimes feel like the razor sharp
of a bean tins'e edge
may one-day be my best friend,
I hate to feel like my venom,
can only be drained away
as I sleep well past Mid-day.
I hate the sight of red,
but its not instantaneously,
I lose so much as I bleed,
Its taking like a fasting,
I don't wish for pro-longed
of another sad radio song.
I still have those flash backs,
my sweet devoted dotting Auntie,
Why did you so abandon me?
You loved me more than maternal
of once born and its now dead central.

What Might Make You Smile

For those healing in silence.

Maybe it’s the sunlight,
dotting playfully through the blinds—
a quiet reminder
that the world still holds light.

Maybe it’s the steam rising
from morning Earl Grey,
a scone with melted butter
—a moment of normal
in a day that’s anything but.

Perhaps it’s the slow turn of a page, 
the way strangers drift past
your window—
Perhaps it’s in imagining
their thoughts,
their stories,
or even 
inviting one in for tea.

To sit.
To speak.
Or just be.

There’s comfort in letting time pass
without needing to fill it.
No pressure to be productive,
only permission
to feel,
to breathe,
to rest.

Perhaps living fully
isn’t about doing more—
but about honoring
what brings peace.
And maybe, just maybe,
in that hush—
the day lifts a corner of its mouth.

A SPRING'S CANVASSING

Nature is canvassing…
pollen and rain falling;
polka-dotting earth:-

The Recipe on the Box

Each year I make the matzoh balls,
Which come out pretty good.
My husband cooks the chicken soup;
Our roles are understood.

He always wings it when he cooks,
Just uses what’s on hand
And never needs a recipe,
Which I can’t understand.

I follow the directions
When I cook or when I bake
And measure the ingredients
So there is no mistake.

My time-worn recipes are stashed
In cookbooks or in files;
The drips and spatters dotting them
Evoke nostalgic smiles.

Yet always for the matzoh balls
What has the most appeal
Is the recipe that’s on the box
Of any matzoh meal.

That’s up until this year – there was
No recipe at all!
I Googled and saw dozens,
But not one my matzoh ball.

Until I saw a posting
From a woman who, like me,
Asked if anyone could help her
Find that box-back recipe.

Voila! Someone responded
With a picture of the box.
It’s amazing what technology,
From time to time, unlocks.

I made the matzoh balls
And hope they’re good as they appear,
But I copied down the recipe
So I’ll be set next year.

It made me twist and turn in bed

My mind could well from a million alts choose: 
Marvel at beauty of that moonless sky, 
Re-live that meandering slow boat cruise, 
Recall fragrance from her love wafting by, 
Re-enjoy bluebell blossoms of late springs, 
I could have dwelt at her demurring dimple 
Which, seems to show deeper dent when she sings, 
And whilst at it, could have delved on her ample 
Presence— any of her prime beauty spots, 
But worries weighed in, crowding out my joys,
Why, but I kept on dotting needless dots, 
Not on the pleasant dream, what it destroys, 
   Which, made me twist and turn in bed n times, 
   Dwelling on life’s peripherals, not primes.
__________________________ 
Sonnet |01.02.13, revised November 2024|

AN AUTUMN'S CANVASSING

AUTUMN IS SNEEZING,
RELEASING POLLEN AND RAIN... 
POLKA-DOTTING EARTH...

Raindrops,2

The cerulean sky suddenly turned grey.
Cumulonimbus clouds covered the sky.
The gentle wind turned into a noisy roar.
In the sweeping wind, the trees arched and bent.
At every gust, the dead leaves began to fall.
The blazing sun got veiled by dark clouds.
The day turned dusky as if the sun was about to set.

Lightning, like clashing spears cut through the sky.
Thunder was heard roaring in the distance.
Suddenly raindrops began falling in tandem.
It was such an exhilarating feel to watch water drops,
Hitting hard on rooftops and breaking into tiny droplets. 
Its pitter patter, to me, was like a melodious refrain.

Curiously, I watched raindrops dotting the window panes,
And the water globules glistening in dim light.
Petrichor rose from earth's surface, wafted by the wind.


*        *          *          *        *

From then, it rains and it pours down nonstop.
In a week, our land has become a river bed
Now how we wish to see the clouds dissipate
And the rains stop and the sun takes over!

rain on lake

raindrops dotting lake
with circular rippling mist
shadowing mirror

sun rays chiseling
hieroglyphs reflections
on lake's ice blanket

geese flight departure
one staying with injured mate
God's love reflection

I Love You First

Of humanity's many members,
of smoky mountains standing in the clouds,
of the heavens You sprinkled with an infinity
of stars,
and valleys of the goodness of crops and
the moonlit magnolia trees,
oceans, lakes, rivers, and streams came to
life from You.
Of the joy of birds at the feeder,
I love You first.

My Jesus, my Christ,
the bats whoosh out of their caves
at twilight in their hunting of insects,
my grandchildren play on summer's lawns
with buttercups dotting the expanse,
whilst autumn stirs in his slumber,
as the days age more for me,
I love You first.

You're my morning star,
my evening comfort,
I adore You most sweetly,
You came for me when others didn't,
to rescue me from the hurt and the
mourning for the earth and her people,
her animals,
as hatred, as wars, as pollution 
mars her glorious face,
I love You first.

You, Dearest Redeemer, Deliverer,
sent some of Your angels to watch
over us-
in frosted nights,
and in spring's awaited rebirth.
Truest One,
my heart in reverence to You,
I love You, always first. ~

Silent Killer

Silence was my friend 
no one knew of the harm done
to this body, no one knew of
the banging screams against
this smiling door that everyone
saw.
Our parents damaged the innocence 
that laid in wait
We remained silent, this treatment 
Is normal is it not?
Silence killed the beauty inside,
welcoming idle guest that became
permanent residents.
But still we remained silent 
like ease-droppers, hearing but not
helping. 
Silence became our enemy. 
For who would believe the dotting parents are monsters under our beds
keeping out cries for help silent among the world.

Cat Eyed

white wind pushing clouds
blueberry birds dotting sky
twinkle in cats eye

To Run For Pres of Usa

To run for President here you have to be old
You have to have wrinkles and smell like sour mold
You have to have brown age spots dotting your hands.
and pretend to care about competing high school bands.

It is best if you have white hair, no other color will do.
Our politicians are between ninety-nine and a hundred and two.
If you have dementia and cannot remember your name.
We are likely to vote you in repeatedly without taking any blame.

I Loved You Once

I loved you once like sunrays kissing earth,
like drenching rain that brings with it new birth.
I loved you once like waves that reach for shore,
and then receded to come in strength once more

I loved you once like stars that pulse with light,
held captive to the Milky Way’s delight.
I loved you once like moonbeams touching trees
that dance within the branches as they please

I loved you once like clouds that grace the sky,
enchanting scene that draws a whistful sigh
I loved you once like tender falling snow
embellishing the world in splendid show

I loved you once like angels drawing near
to bring the needed comfort, hope and cheer
I loved you once like flowers dotting land
that blushed in bloom of love in fusion grand

I loved you once, but once a lifetime fills
My life without you is devoid of thrills
I loved you once and earth was paradise
My sheer delight in love defied disguise

I loved you once; I'll love you for all time
You’ll never taste a love as sweet as mine
I loved you once, and once lives on in me
Alas, for you that once is history

Eileen Manassian

Following the Footnotes

Not for nothing
does the light prick my eyes,
a thirst for walking shoes
tightens ankle bones
that parachute out of an inner attic
landing awkwardly into the open throats
of sneakers
still clutching their tendons.

Out from under a dim tented roof
the world is overrun with Asterix's
small confusing marks
that suggest footnotes and disclaimers,
warnings that you should not
take anything as actually actual.

Seriously sober, * I ditch the thought
of turning back,
now the landscape is tripping,
trees are hugging small birds tenderly.
Owls are tugging at dark clouds
moving them through
bright windows of sky.

The world has become a child's coloring book.

It is truly amazing how some mornings*
will keep you insane for a short while
allotting you just enough time
to recall, that you are not yet verified,

that you're n Asterix,
a disclaimer.
never dotting half-open eyes,
never declaring your fixed reality

because
the world keeps editing its meaning,

there are always more footnotes to add. *

Btw: Whatever Happened To --

Now that we've solved the mystery 
     of dotting the i and crossing the t

   Whatever happened to dotting the j
     and crossing the f -- frankly

   And as long as we've come this far
     here's a 'hardy-har-har:'

     If x is for xylophone
     and z is for zoo
   Then ILY still says I Love You

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