The black walnut we planted is thriving,
even our honeylocust has survived.
A silver maple with six stems switching
every which way, is first to flower, last
to lose leaves. Couple of Norway maples
to string my hammock between. A knock-kneed
sugar maple, made for shade, and a young
bitternut hickory to replace the maple
when root rot takes it out. A white pine grew
like a weed, blocked the neighbor’s view but trees
make better neighbors than people. A river
birch that sweeps its branches like a girl
on a bicycle flying over the roof.
Bittersweet attacks a quaking aspen,
pursuing prey, and an unruly quince
attracts cardinals, rabbits, juncos and jays.
Two crab apples with magenta blossoms
illuminate our Spring and a red spruce
so tall you don’t notice it at all because
the foliage starts high above dead limbs
I keep uncut for wildlife cover.
Hemlocks and oaks where deer lay down their bones.
I’ve thought of adopting a yellow poplar
in memory of Dad, for the wet flat
where the silver maple's doing fine but
tulips need warm, well-drained soil, so no.
Chilling with G3
[Verse 1]
Stocking my choices, let’s get it rolling,
Stocking the flavors, I’m feeling golden.
Gawking at options, can’t let ‘me pass,
Balking at prices, good times come fast.
Do NOT mock me, I know my vibe,
Sipping on flavor, let’s enjoy the ride.
[Chorus]
Stocking, stalking, always on the go,
Gawking and balking, that how we flow,
Hot drinks in hand, we’re living it free,
Raise you can high, come vibe with G3.
[Verse 2}
In this cool fridge, I’m finding my treat,
Hot shot of Tea Tree, cannot take a seat,
There’s a charm when I am rolling with G3,
Party in a can, just come see me.
Chilling right here, feeling the heat,
Sipping back slow, this life is sweet.
[Chorus]
[Outro]
Sipping that cold brew, night fades to dawn,
Cheers to the party, we keep moving on!
mummy girl grew out of Farmer Bill’s pumpkin patch
For the rest of us, she was an invincible, humorous match
She sat among the pumpkins and put us down in a batch
A horrible little October gift, she was, and she could snatch.
She had claws that reached out and grabbed us by the toes.
She threw us down, and laughed at our skinned kneed woes
Mummy girl was getting bigger, so were her arms and her nose.
We cleared out of there, running through the corn rows.
At the table of resistance.
On which fragile plates rest.
It's like an endless stream of tasty Kaitenzushi.
Hissing and fizzing life way.
Should you over indulge, on one too many plates.
You will end up bloated and stuck in space.
For what you resist, persists.
Thus resisting floating with a medium.
Given the temple of your body.
Adjust the right amount of calibrated meals.
Adding only what you need to the never emptying plates.
That could be processed in one seeing and seating.
If you find yourself in lost Vegas.
You could just enjoy the unique smells.
Or You could chew chew chew through every meal.
Or You could just drop your entire tray.
Too much resistance will make you a dull bulb.
So lessen the load by learning lessons in all seasons.
Yet at table of resistance one might not kneed light.
To say Itadakimasu.
Little legs
Turned inward
Walking plain
A bit wayward
...I move
Tripping feet
Knock kneed
Out of order
Can never lead
...forward
Slow pace
Wonky run
Eventually there
But never done
...I appear
Last chosen
Obligation, restraint
Odd man out
Weak, faint
...exhausted
Warriors lost
Strong men gone
Little ole me
The one pressing on
...It's just the way I walk
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-06-2026
Make an idol of,
by worshiping &
adoring as godlike.
Heart beats rapidly,
sporadically whenever near
it skips.
To beautify furthermore would be
divine intervention,
nothing compares.
Weak-kneed & star-struck
paralyzed with love,
in an enamored state of presence.
~ 3-Syllable Footle ~
Eagles dared
Chiefs just stared
Mahomes stopped
By Hurts topped
Kelce contained
Few yards gained
Coach Reid kneed
~ Three-peat greed
Don’t kick my shin
Lest I grin and
Your chin gets kneed.
Don’t touch the ball
Not at all or
The call will come.
Don’t pass the line
Tis a crime, you’ll
Do time for this.
Don’t hog the ball
Share with all and
Stand tall for team!
When the sun had melted straw
to gold
and dawn had shimmered,
out of its platinum dream-mask,
then the lank kneed heron
allowed itself to blink once,
however,
the darting minnows
were too small to care much -
they knew the tall still bird,
had no use for scraps of silver foil.
O what a time we had,
we had a time of it didn't we,
you in your stripy flouncy dress
and pink kneed splendor,
and I dragging a foot behind you,
as callow and unrisen as
a half-baked pudding.
We between us
had the blindly brilliant knowledge,
of everything not worth knowing.
We had textbooks and crayons,
to color bluer an already blue sky.
Our heads held high,
in the fancy hats of headlong youth.
God, I loved the smell of you,
not your dabs of perfume,
but the buttercup musk of you.
That afternoon I played rugby,
while you watched your bruised hero,
galumph and totter all over a muddy field.
God was kind to us wasn’t he,
he made every chicken dinner sunny-side-up,
he tinted our eyes with a simple wonder
for a while,
didn’t he?
Can I love you again, just for a moment,
love us both in this dumb poem,
that I hope speaks for everyone
at least once.
There is fake blood on congressional walls,
the outraged rage on
though they are all unclear
about whatever.
Beyond our shores
apocalyptic war gallops on four horses.
A river of blood flows to the sea.
Are there marmalade sandwiches for tea
or only a thinly buttered bread
and wilted cucumber?
Back from the conflict
reporters warn of storms
on the home front,
but we who kneed our knees,
to facilitate, hating to disturb
the already perturbed,
await with bated breath
for the big bang and the death
of reason forever.
00
"veni vidi weak kneed"
i came
i saw
she conquered
The kerfuffle began
when the K&K's concocted
a plan to be special
beyond breakfast.
To be silent, written,
but never heard
was simply absurd.
Penned in by N's
K's lovely voice
was kybosched
knifed,
knuckle-dusted
knocked, kneed
when kneeling prone.
Denied any
free expression speech
from the grassy knoll.
Why must this be so?
K's are sick and tired of being
bullied by N's!
To forever have to remain silent whenever followed
by an 'N' at the start of the word.
It's not right for knight, knot, knowledge and knob
to know they must have a hidden silent
bed-fellow at the bedhead,
The boss neutered to mere
nothingness and meaningless no-less.
It's not right to be demanded in Scrabble and rambling
scribbles, dabble and scrawls,
but muted silent in the babble of spoken recalls
of verse spoken aloud or recited in the reader's head.
Let there be a voice for Special K's.
That's what we say!
In this moment, choosing release
We thus give birth to freedom's seed
Doing nothing, as we unfreeze
Head and heart allow love to lead
God’s love and light is our soul's need
With no cravings left to appease
Yielding neither to fear nor greed
In this moment, choosing release
This life's a gift, from God on lease
And with His laws, having agreed
Praying to Him, to bless us please
We thus give birth to freedom's seed
Flowing gently, our will we cede
Devout, standing firm like the trees
Our heart is pure, where bliss beats breed
Doing nothing, as we unfreeze
Love in love with love holds the keys
Our soul's ascent soon gathers speed
We feel bliss amplitude increase
Head and heart allow love to lead
Oh hermit, voice of conscience heed
Gentling thought, load on heart decrease
We’re living light, why act weak kneed
God within enables with ease
In this moment
07-March-2023
I will tell you a sorrowful tale of an ancient time
when the turning years carved grooves into vinyl,
a time that changed everything and nothing.
He was a lad, a stripling, knobble kneed and roughly handled.
A youth with a common history told a thousand times
in any slum-clamped town.
A cultural weather mellowed him,
it gave the young a way to be poets, cynics, heedless pundits.
Rainbow children beguiled; they wed their minds
to a street corner weed, past its vows between them.
Then it was that mop haired songsters
again stirred his angry blood; he defied ruler and book,
forsook the hierarchies of the hard boiled,
long hair grew into words that shook as he danced
defying the soft shells of faceless egg men.
The boy drifted, still raw-boned, still trapped
by the rats in his head. Jail house beckoned;
bars griped his knuckles tight.
One night he became a storm in a windowless room.
They held his body down, beat it black and blue.
All he could think of as fists pounded broken ribs,
was if he yet lived, he would write it all out one day
yet still leave out the bad parts.
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