A backwash of death and body's decay,
The soul—once dwelt within me—is no more.
In life-death script's passably long play,
I could not—I don't know why—reach the shore.
I lie naked now with many others,
Forgetting caste, colour, creed, polity;
Confronting all weather with no druthers,
Pushed towards a preset equality.
Isn't there, in my core, an inner strength?
There's a truth of perseverance of life;
There is, in me, an endless breadth and length
Of forgone pains of existential strife.
Am I the monarch of this breathless deep,
Or just a puppet death has put to sleep?
GOD’S LOVE
You will not consider revenge nor have a dislike
For the off shoots of your populace for any reason
Neither are you to ever create a hoax against any
One person due to an aversion
Instead, cordially loving to one another with
Outward love in faithfulness offering favor to
Each other putting aside some druthers which
Might interfere with happiness
There is no terror in adoration but pure adoration
Discards terror so accordingly be infatuated with the
Outsider because you were once an outsider to someone
Somewhere- there is no prejudice with the Divine Father
what is that coming down the lane?
She has a large head, is it made of grain?
As she saunters into sight, she has an evil look
Oh no! It is Devilina from meadow Bad Brook!
We all begin screaming and run back to our mothers
Trick-or-treating is out, says our cousin Warm Druthers
He is the biggest chicken, has been all his life.
Shut up! We tell him. Devilina will probably become your wife.
The other day I overheard
one alien say to another
The Pope would opt for peace on earth
if he had his druthers
So, in his Easter address to the planet’s nations
he’d be wise to advise ~ every earthling’s deportation
As we lay prostrate
Tabula rasa-blank page
Word play we engage
Sleight of hand we write
Together with tongue magic
Comic and tragic
Poetic dual
Like the bards of Vienna
We've burnt sienna
We foster and play
With our words and our phrasing
Not mean, not praising
We engage with rhyme
Each other's druthers, "Respect!"
To urge, not neglect
Sometimes we flirt and
Sometimes we fling dirt, but me
Cajolery, you
Sully the bully
Flatter, not as indicters
We are cowriters
So in this haiku
I don't offer you some prose
But hand you a rose
I know we are called to a cruciform life
But did it need to be such a hard kick up the backside**
A lump of coal in your stocking
A lump of cancer is so shocking
Thankful for the life lived thus far
Thankful for Your guidance, making us who we are
Resting now in knowing You control all things
Hearing and knowing every prayer as it zings
And is played on all our heart stings
And repeated as the heavenly choir sings
Job asks his wife (concerning things of this life)
"Shall we receive good only, or only things unholy"
The river of God by the hand of God keeps rolling
So it's the cruciform life and it's druthers
As we suffer and serve God and others
"The wound is the place where the light enters you". - Rumi
Who truly knows real pleasure
that has not known true pain?
With love, wealth and good health,
what more is there to gain?
What need has man of God
if grief he has not known
or if awful suffering
he never has been shown?
God’s light for pleasure seekers
who want only their druthers
can't even a glint be
if they give no thought of others.
To understand humanity,
one needs to have a heart,
and having one’s heart broken
is a good place to start.
Once having been wounded,
one’s heart is open to
the woes and needs of others.
Only then will light get through.
Mara loves to steal from others
A skill well learned with no druthers
Paraphrase one word or two,
Hoping no one has a clue
Her poems formed from another's
Mara cannot hide behind her word crime
And pretending to, is a waste of time
Poems and words can be traced,
to a new plagiarism case
She needs to stop and find a new pastime
Pundits preachers politicians
you may see
attorneys too
and even agree with me
I think you'll find
all have an agenda
with an axe to grind
lining their pockets
feathering their nest
keeping their cards
close to the chest
saying one thing
doing another
I'd take 'em out and shoot 'em
if I had my druthers
and then there's censorship
where one man's word rules the roost
to remain silent would be
a gag order self-induced
Bricusse and Newley had it right
when they wisely wrote
'Stop the world, I want to get off!'
a verbatim quote
There’s a farmers market near campus.
A young couple has a pizza oven on a trailer.
They make a breakfast pizza - bacon, mozzarella
some egg and green peppers. It’s SO crispy and delicious.
ALL I had to do this morning was say “breakfast pizza!”
and six of us were ready to head out fifteen minutes later.
Let’s wax poetic, shall we?
There are some young ladies who live in a dorm
sometimes it seems like they only have studies
but once and a while on a Saturday or Sunday
if we have our druthers, we get out, in swarm
and find ourselves some pizza-like brekkie.
.
.
Songs for this:
PIZZA by Oohyo
Le Breakfast Club de Paris by Gabrielle Chiararo
Done well,
another’s
terse form to dwell
on druthers.
Oh so short and sweet,
(too long just smothers)
concise, complete,
it casts the briefest spell.
----------
There are several variations on a Varselle, but this one is done as syllables and using the rhyming scheme. 2a:3b:4a:3b:5c:5b:4c:6a
I think I am nineteen some days, twelve others.
Seventy is no biggie, but if I had my druthers…
I would not have arthritis in both of my knees.
I tell my daughters to grab everything that they sees.
With gusto and enthusiasm for they may fall apart.
They think I am kidding, but being seventy is an art.
Keep your positivity and do something fun every day.
Who knows how long you have to be merry and gay.
The trick is to live ever moment with pizzazz.
dance in the chorus line of life with razz-a-ma-tazz.
Oh, the 2024 U.S. Presidential election race,
as I ponder on it with my head's empty space.
Our nation is so out of joint,
our political differences at a breaking point,
with name calling rife in online blogs,
I would rather listen to bellowing bullfrogs.
Republicans, Democrats, Independents,
liberal, moderate, conservative, it's malevolent,
people attacking each other,
well, if I had my druthers,
I'd nominate my hound dog mix, Beau
for President,
he'd legislate from a canine-run government.
He makes more sense than a lot of people do,
the inept Secret Service can pick up his poo.
In three months this election mess will come
to us voters so weary,
I think many of us will be bleary.
Keep your nerves steady,
and get the popcorn ready. ~
Overheard a couple elderly gents
Discuss artificial intelligence
One said to the other
If I had my druthers
‘Twould be on the ballot for President
Sweet sentiments stir softly between lovers
Whispering winds woo the weeping willow’s limb
Love and warmth linger between the crisp covers
No longer walking along death’s scary rim
Moonlight moments in midnight’s dewy druthers
Silken strands of starlight illuminate him
Sonnet of love in romantic language spun
Tapestry of lovers, two hearts beat as one
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