It is easier now to peek behind closed doors
the walls are down, stomped into the ground by some
they post what they had for breakfast, supper and lunch
take photographs of themselves sixty times a day
and post fifty-eight of them, it helps us to see
they do not have a life
I admire the people who tried social media for a bit
then realized it is not for them and ran off to live their lives.
The ones who stick around to brag, complain or whine I wonder about.
Do they not have a support group of real people, relatives or friends?
One person I know spends between four to eight hours a day on one
of these social sites.
I cannot imagine spending forty minutes a day here.
It is not that interesting or exciting
certainly dissatisfying compared to meeting friends for lunch
or hosting a Halloween party or washing dishes.
I feel that some of these people have been caught up in
these “imaginary” relationships, allowing real friendships
and relationships die.
he had to have routines
I saw no value in that
He brought over his car
I danced on the hood, thought I was all that.
We had different ideas
He felt people were a challenge of course.
I was friends with the entire town,
knew the names of their dogs, rabbits and horse.
we were ill-suited everyone said.
Opposites, but neither of us especially well-bred.
That was fifty-eight years ago and we are still together.
Neurodivergence has worked for us in all kinds of weather.
My sister broke her C-2 which is part of your neck up high
She wore a brace for three months, then she had surgery
Surgery was to ensure that she might not have a wheelchair for life
There was no guarantee that it would be successful, but she has faith.
She put her neck into the hands of a highly skilled surgeon.
Dr. Kawasaki has an excellent reputation, and he fixed her up.
The C-2 is as high in the back as your nose is in the front.
As you can imagine, this was serious.
The physical therapist was worried when she saw sister’s file.
It was fifty-eight pages long. She wondered what she could do to help.
My sister walked in, and the P.T. kept a straight face for eight weeks.
Before she walked out the last time, the P.T. was honest with her.
When you walked in here, I was shocked, she told her.
I have been a P.T. for thirty-two years.
Anyone with a broken C-2 I have met was in a wheelchair or on a respirator.
The others ones are dead. You are a walking miracle.
My sister is completely healed now, and there is no pain.
I cannot say we believe in the power of God any more
But we certainly respect His decision to make her one of His miracles.
1. To Fly
My father was an admiral, and so
I joined the Navy. Back in fifty-eight
to be a pilot seemed the way to go:
ship-sailors were committed to a crate.
Scrub decks? Paint rusting gunwales? That’s a ‘no’.
The Skyhawk was my weapon (and my fate!)
2. Rubicon Crossing
Some nations follow rainbows, I am told:
we thought, in Vietnam, ‘search and destroy’
would lead us to our fabled pot of gold.
For years we tried it, but it brought no joy:
we lost our nerve, and switched to ‘clear and hold’.
Saigon endured the selfsame end as Troy.
3. Brainwash
The Hanoi Hilton. Yes, I was a guest.
They found my father was a VIP,
and left off hurting me. Impressed,
they wanted to restore my liberty.
But if I left my buddies, I’d detest
myself. I turned them down. That’s decency!
4. Frozen Side of the Sun
Should politicians simply sing the song?
A woman voter told me, in the hall,
Obama was a Muslim. I said, “Wrong!”
I guess I lost her vote. I made the call
I knew was the correct one. I was strong.
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.
I was a late arrival
born in nineteen fifty-eight,
during the folk revival.
As a kid, music was survival.
Records then sounded great
on a platter or a plate,
like Peter, Paul, and Mary,
and Puff on a seventy-eight.
Later, having no place to go
and no one to meet,
Mr. Tambourine man would show
a wonder I did not know.
In my consciousness, he took a seat,
I listened o'er and o'er.
I put it on repeat -
something worth living for.
Chase dreams, he would entreat.
How I remember, in the park,
I heard my first live electric guitar.
At the sound of that spark,
something in me, no longer dark,
like fusion in a star,
with electricity instilled,
from where I was, it took me far.
Everything inside me thrilled.
That was only just the start.
There are too many bands to name,
who created musical art
to expand the mind and heart,
no two of them the same,
like the Airplane and Grateful Dead,
peace and love, they would proclaim,
and those sentiments would spread.
When he left us, he left us too soon.
He starred in 13 episodes of "Tycoon".
It was a day that all of his fans were sure to hate.
Christopher left us at the young age of fifty-eight.
He starred in "The Distracted Preacher" and "The Boy Friend".
Many people were surprised when his life came to an end.
In addition to being an actor, Gable was a ballet dancer.
This talented man lost his life in 1998 because of cancer.
He starred as "Sharaz Jek" when he starred in Doctor Who.
Christopher was a special individual and that's certainly true.
[Dedicated to Christopher Gable (1940-1998) who died on October 23, 1998]
The worst nadir in my young years
that brings me still to shed sad tears;
while I was pregnant- months to wait-
September, nineteen fifty-eight.
My new friend's child was six weeks old,
and for a while, left me to hold
and watch her for an hour or two
while she ran errands that were due.
I fed and rocked her sound to sleep;
with love, my arms around her keep.
When Mom returned, she quickly went;
no signs of heartache- felt or sent.
Come morning, we woke from a scream-
and thought perhaps, Mom had a dream!
But no! Such horror took our breath!
Her baby passed- classed as crib death!
I could not comfort my dear friend;
her miracle came to an end.
Just like myself, so filled with mirth-
she'd waited for the thrill of birth.
Now, sixty-five years since that day-
this hurt within won't go away.
Though from that base, we all did part-
still feel my friend's pain in my heart.
More Idiom Humor
Miracle Man
1/23/2024
Some days I just wake up feeling of low self esteem,
I survey the night’s happenings and almost scream.
Other days I feel “dumber than a barrel of hair”,
asking myself this question, Does anyone care?
I’m feeling “as useless as two wagons in a one horse town”.
and, of course it’s the news that has given me my frown.
Sometimes I feel the need of a little morale booster,
but that would be “like putting socks on a rooster”.
I dare not wake Sweetie so I’m “as quiet as a meadow mouse”,
“Because she can start a fight in an empty house”.
I’ll ask what’s for breakfast when I’m craving food,
I can tell by her stare, if “She’s in a horn tossing mood”.
She responds with, “Whatever floats your boat,” smurf,
now I’m left “as confused as a goat on astroTurf”.
After fifty-eight years I’ve grown used to her “naggin”
now, “It’s just about time to put our chairs in the wagon”.
At our advanced age very little induces a laugh,
but my sweetie knows, “if I’ve got a biscuit, she’s got half.”
If you enter through
The rusty back gate
Messily labeled 105 and
Walk thirty steps to your right,
You will come across
A beaten path
Overgrown with forgotten weeds
And the remnant leaves of autumn.
But twenty steps into the forest,
A maple tree stands alone amongst thorny bushes.
And if you stray here from the path
Fifty-eight steps through the branches,
Listen closely.
For you can hear the hinges
Of a small wooden door
Leading to the home of an elf
Where she returns from her gathering,
Bakes acorn-pie,
And uses buttons to set the table.
If you stay silent
Little pixies
With insect-like wings–
Some with the wings of a bee
Or wings of the teal dragonfly–
Flutter between leaves,
Collecting soft foliage
To sew clothing
In their homes within the trees.
Keep your eyes peeled,
And you may see a gnome
Walking up a hill in the distance
Peeking under logs and bushes
Searching for his squirrel companion.
Then you blink,
And they are gone.
A summer day in 'fifty eight
when providence found me a mate
Neither of us knew ,what was then to be
from passion, love was brought forth to me
Attraction's magnet drew us together
nothing was ever,our love to sever
In memory that day still glows bright
&she is the same, love at first sight
That summer day in 'fifty eight
when providence found me a mate
Neither of us knew ,what was then to be
passion& love,was brought forth from me
Attraction's magnet drew us together
nothing, ever,our love to sever
In memory that day still glows bright
she, remains, that first love in my sight
Still my February valentine
her constant love stays mine..mine..mine
There’s a panda tap dancing in hobnails
There’s an octopus mixing up cocktails
A bush kangaroo
Blows on a kazoo
While the band are all tadpoles or pond-snails
A gorilla is dancing the tango
With a chimp who’s still holding a mango
The chimp wins the crown
For getting on down
To the lambada and the fandango
At the bar there’s a drunk alligator
And he’s fancies a croc who’s the waiter
With so many teeth
He knew there’d be grief
So he’s seeing a pelican later
Well the peacock so prim and resplendent
Gave his coat to the cloakroom attendant
Chicks don’t check him out
Because he’s without
His plumage on which he’s dependant
Then the moose said it soon will be nine
Please finish your beer or your wine
It’s eight fifty-eight
His key’s in the gate
So try not to leave any sign
There's a pen near the big rabbit hutch
With a sign saying please do not touch
A young lad from Goring
Said Pandas are boring
They don’t seem to do very much
Plastic for garment hopeful Mc Guyver
Privileged upbringing Mum funded Uni
Drooping arms self described Survivor
Sends selfies working store security
Each week forgot which time we'd set to meet
Busy cuddling cat in his hoarders house
Box obstructed rooms, pet fur pile retreat
Expensive half hour at strip club aroused
Deep thought Duncan sombre long faced hellos
Told off at new job for being morose
Six year psychiatrist compiled his woes
Used a lot of glue trying to make clothes!
Fifty eight, next door mother truest friend
Asserts he's recognised among top ten
31st January
Duncan in denial
Eight Years Old
I’m eight years old, nearly nine
But I’ll never get there
There’s not enough time
I’m a delinquent youth
Trapped in an old body
I’d still love a trainset
Though I am a fuddy duddy.
Clothes at Christmas, but
I feel slightly miffed
I wanted a gadget
For my Christmas gift.
New headphones, or
A new guitar, set of drums
You’re right it’s really bazaar.
My wife understands
She married a boy
Who has grey hair
And prefers a toy
I’m sixty-six next month
It seems unreal
Fifty-eight years older
Than I feel
David Cox 02/01/2023
rich fertile tree with brown-turning wrinkled leaves
surrounded by your own fruitful bounty
many rounded orbs with teeth marks in them
do Kansas deer have teeth?
begin to count them as I rake them up
one apple, two apples, three apples, four
lose count at fifty-eight or sixty-eight, unsure
it is going to be a hard winter I tell my husband,
sorting these apples is a mess.
some are barely salvageable, squishy and overused
there are few without defects, but I do not blame the tree
she does the best she can, every year
this year she surpassed herself
living up to prediction of Farmer’s almanac
winter will be colder and nastier than usual
which explains this unforeseen number of apples in October
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