Long Sadie Poems
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It is easy to forget that in the main we die only seven times more slowly than our dogs.
Jim Harrison (1937 - 2016) - The Road Home
First Bobo, a cocker spaniel,
I remember only from pictures.
He ran way before we moved
to Canada when I was four.
Second Kizzie, a cockapoo, Mom got
when the family moved to Texas.
I only saw her on holidays and such
as I stayed in Canada. She lived
long and was with the folks when they
retired to British Columbia and was
into her teens before they put her down.
Third Sadie, 3/4 Newfie - 1/4 Bernese,
a big black dog, with a big appetite
for apples from a special tree and
the socks our daughter, a toddler
cast off around the house.
I still chuckle remembering
the scattered remnants lining
the farm lane that spring.
She was over ten, and in pain
when we put her down.
Her ashes remain in an urn in the garage.
Fourth Rizzo, a fencejump cross of
Gordon Setter and Belgian Shepherd,
my wife and daughter got him from
a friend, while I was off on a canoe trip.
A headstrong dog who would take off after
a scent or car to return when he pleased.
On leash, he'd almost pull you off your feet.
With age, he grew territorial and
after the third biting incident, I took
him to the vet to be put down.
But she gave him to an older lady
with a fenced yard who put thirty
pounds on him and he lived to
fourteen or fifteen.
Fifth Hailey, who was five when
we got her from the shelter.
A Border Collie - Shepherd cross
and definitely our daughter's dog.
She'd bounce foxlike through the fields
and on evening beach walks, loved
to fetch sticks we'd toss into the waves.
She was over fifteen and failing when
we put her down, days before
our daughter's wedding.
No urn this time.
Sixth Xena, a Shepherd-Collie cross
and beyond doubt a princess
but more sweetheart than warrior.
She has the canine equivalent
of ADD and a bark first policy
when something new appears
and will retrieve sticks or balls
until your arm falls off .
At over eight, she's running strong.
Seventh, Sam, a mostly Shepherd mix,
she's our most 'rescue' rescue dog,
smart, loyal and obedient
a wantobe lap dog with a feral streak.
She responds in kind to aggressive
dogs and we muzzle her on walks.
Now five she'll be with us for a
good while to continue the tally.
written too late for the contest, but wanted to post it anyway....
I had one of the most wonderful mom's any human being could have...she lives with me now - with decreasing dementia.., I answer her constant repetitive questions,
listen sadly to all of her accusations, but always have a hug and smile for her. The progression of alzheimer's is very difficult to watch and deal with...and I hope one day they may find a cure for it....
What a lovely bouquet of flowers sitting on the dresser top,
The sweet scent of lavender- who sent them? I thought,
Should get up and feed that spoiled cat before I go,
Got dressed, grabbed the TV remote, and made a cup of jo-
Think I’ll get the paper first- should be laying by the door,
Have to read what’s new today- I picked it off the floor,
That cat is never here, always wandering and staying out,
Think I’ll make a cup of coffee, now what’s all this about?
Why is my TV on? I never watch it ‘til late at night,
Electricity must be shorting out – something’s just not right,
Going to call the landlord, she’ll get some nasty words from me,
“Hello …Sadie...I’m just fine - come over, I’d like some company”
Knock, knock – who’s pounding on the door so early? Why Sadie come on in,
I was just thinking about you - my dearest, closest friend,
Oh, thank you much, I see you put some flowers on my table,
You’re sorry about what…who got run over …god no, not Sable!
Sadie, my heart’s broken – I’m angry - I feel I’m going to die,
Now, now dear, please stop it, tell me, why is it you cry?
Wait until my little cat comes back – she’ll bring you lots of cheer,
Here’s some tissue for your eyes, I haven’t seen you for a year-
Let me make you a cup of tea, we’ll sit a while and chat,
Damn thieves! They’ve taken everything – hope you like your coffee black!
That TV is way too loud , it blurs my thoughts and head,
Did I tell you about my cat? Gone so long, I think - by someone else she’s fed-,
Hang on a minute, the phone’s ringing down in the hall,
Put the TV on if you want– you can watch Lucille Ball-
HEY, YOU THERE!!! How dare you come in without knocking first,
I don’t need anything from you – last time you took my purse –
Of course I know who you are, are you trying to make an ass out of me?
I didn’t come off the banana boat – darling, would you like a cup of tea?
I once met a waiter in Berlin.
A tall man with blonde hair,
a long scar above his eye,
I knew his name only to be Jurgen.
Following coffee one fine day I asked this man,
“Do you know where I can go to find a splash of life?”
He replied with a smile,
“I'm sorry I'm not the best for that, perhaps you should speak to my wife.”
And with that he called over a very pretty lady,
as he summoned her he told me that her name was Sadie.
I looked at her and said,
“Oh my gosh miss but you are quite amazing...
please excuse me for my amount of gazing.”
She told me not to worry,
it was neither here nor there.
But that I should find my way to the edge of town,
practically to the brink of nowhere.
I looked at her confused and I said,
“What miss should I travel so far to see?”
She looked at Jurgen, then back my way, and simply said,
“I guess you'll just have to trust me.”
So I paid for my coffee,
then I started out.
Not knowing where I was going,
my head full of doubt.
I walked past the stores,
and the city shops.
I reached the country farms,
their lands brimming with crops.
I walked so far in fact my legs began to falter,
I cursed Sadie and her cryptic words
as I traveled halfway to Gibraltar.
Then just as the sun was about to tuck itself behind the horizon for this night,
I saw what I believed to be the most awe-inspiring sight.
Maybe it was the glister of her blue eyes against the stony mountains behind her en masse,
or perhaps it was the shade of her beautiful auburn hair atop the chartreuse grass.
Whatever it was I was smitten from the start.
I knew it to be true,
I knew it deep within my heart.
She smiled at me with all her warmth and said,
“Well hi there handsome, what brings you way out here?”
I said,
“You know, at first I wasn't sure, but now it's very clear.”
It's been twenty years since I married her,
that little splash of mine.
We moved to the city and I became a waiter,
not always,
but just from time to time.
Now on days when patrons ask me
just where should they begin.
I smile and say,
“It starts by speaking to my wife,
instead of drinking coffee in the cafes of Berlin.”
January 7, 2016
Paternal grandmother's headstone - Beth David, Elmont, Long Island
Shaindel (Sadie), variant of Shana Harris
died May 13th, 1959 exquisitely chiseled
alphanumeric characters legibly engraved
sepulchral casket entombing lovely bones
deoxyribonucleic acid repurposed into me
Matthew Scott Harris patronymic protector,
when I die taking family surname to netherland
who unwittingly named his youngest daughter
after his recently deceased father's mother.
Mortality encompasses subsequent cremation
never mind death of yours truly unbeknownst
mine soul will migrate towards deceased kith
kindred folks only known courtesy genealogy
descendents called Eastern Europe homeland
upon landing at Ellis Island émigrés hugged
immigration officials and illegibly scribbled
unpronounceable/ unreadable birth names
subsequently adopting common shorthand.
Chromosomes reconstituted genetic material
gifted from forebears ecstatic immigrants apt
to be regaled by relatives hustling newcomers
into fast paced frenzy, the latter gesticulating
at cityscape marveling over hubbub jabbering
babble synchronized in tandem with hawkers
and vendors selling, peddling comestibles,
gewgaws, papers, et cetera predating buyer
beware analogous to innocents abroad say
by George an American in Paris humming
Rhapsody in Blue.
Agog regarding novel sights never seen within
father/mother land, viz supposed New World
blitzkrieg eventually quieted, relegated, shelved...
analogous by Dickens perusing tchotchkes
commonly found within olde curiosity shop,
yet no matter acclimatization arose espying
eye opening merchandise, the dirt poor status
regarding bloodlines a couple generations ago
immediate deterrent experienced by Aaron
Harris (papa's father) as a boy, who provided
for his family, their hardscrabble existence
only somewhat alleviated thru hook and crook.
Please pardon poetic license usurped,
especially slight exaggeration of penury
promulgated concerning up by bootstraps
scenario evinced by paternal grandfather
after he attained and emerged out boyhood,
though destitution imprinted thru his infancy
until growing up hardened qua hard school
of knocks limiting him to eighth grade education.
Good news came my way today February 21, 2021 courtesy late father
Papa - purportedly named
after paternal grandmother
Sadie, her mom's Yiddish name
Basia Brana (or Brandla),
she took two B letters and
found American boys' names
that kind of echoed
her mother's names in letters
and sounds too: Boyce Brandon).
Conversation with eldest sibling
apprised me of entitlement
heading this endeavor with poetic ring,
plus she (same sister) emailed
specifics, a financial life raft
I will devotedly and blessedly cling.
Gratuity his (General Electric)
life insurance policy
totaling $37,063.00
divided three ways
bequeathed to yours truly
and my two non-twisted sisters.
Aforementioned dollar figure
divided three ways equals
12,354.3333333,
which tidy sum
could help me
alleviate outstanding
credit card debt.
Upon acquiring allotted dividend
tattered credit history I will mend
eldest daughter would commend
no rhyme nor reason accrual twist
of fate unfortunately happened
impossible mission to comprehend
how yours truly became deadened
abominable hand to mouth existence
turned scofflaw criminally hardened
not really but makes for good legend.
Figurative dark shadow ameliorate
I must, cuz unpaid charges create
unnecessary uneasiness and emasculate
like invisible fetters tellingly generate
principal abuzz with interest initiate
tingling goosebumps think back,
when Iraq invaded Kuwait.
Whatever portion remains after bank
receives their due, inherited windfall
(lemme please me earnest and frank)
metaphorically teetering on pull lank
lesson learned while marriage doth tank
hence joint account activated between
yours truly and wife crocheting machine
eventually a future blanket methinks green
backs could be pocketed, especially
since legal tender equals slim pickings,
which hoop fully Spartan existence lean
years can be supplanted with obscene
wealth (cryptic words) hinting
play philanthropist so the missus
and her consort can live splendid
like king and queen,
else we may consider enlisting
contraband to acquire
laundered moolah crisp and clean.
When it comes to making friends from the South, it's like everybody's welcomed in their
communities. But when it comes to being with a bunch of attractive Southern belles, that's
so awesome. she's got plenty of style and a lot of beauty to have blossomed. A Southern
belle is as attractive and beautiful as any other woman in America, especially that of a
white-Caucasian girl from the West coast or the Midwest or any other girl possible. What's so great about these
Southern belles is that of her soft skin and her beautiful smile. And if this Southern
belle was a blonde or a brunette, I'd tell her how awesome she looks and I'd declare my
love for her. These Southern belles have made the south very interesting and it makes a
guy wanting to go down there to have been with her. Of course these belles are religious
and whatnot, but that doesn't stop us guys from telling them how beautiful they look,
trying to impress these girls from the South. And when dating a beautiful Southern belle,
it's like going to a Sadie Hawkins dance in either Birmingham, Alabama, Biloxi,
Mississippi, Savannah, Georgia, or Cameron, North Carolina. Everybody's going to get a lot
of Southern hospitality in these parts of America and the city guys and the country girls
will be having one heck of a good time. It seems that the young women from the South
really have a thing for us city guys and stuff. And for when I begin to date a Caucasian
Southern girl, it will be like love at first sight. Not only do most guys each have a
thing for a bunch of attractive Southern girls, I also have a thing for Southern girls,
especially the ones from Alabama, Louisiana, Missouri, and Tennessee. Now I know why I love all beautiful,
attractive Southern girls; they're beautiful and pretty, especially that of a bleach
blonde belle. And if this relationship works out with a Southern belle, that would be
great for us city guys.
Greetings from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
today March 1st, 2021
I dashed (off the enclosed poem) yay
while safely secured within
white horse open sleigh
after reading following
pray lemme know if ye uttered oy vey.
Profound insights divulged
during our most recent family zoom
Approximately seven hundred
and fifty four months since exiting womb,
yours truly (sole son
of late Boyce Brandon -
yes she named him
after paternal grandmother
Sadie, her mom's Yiddish name
Basia Brana or Brandla)
me currently ensconced within unit B44
analogous to catacomb
amid Highland Manor Apartments
I dwell - our livingsocial hole in the wall
among grateful dead residents
facility likened to metaphorical tomb
each stone individually moved one at a time
courtesy hearty and hale archeologists
resident to *Qom
(a city in northwestern Iran -
place of pilgrimage for Shiite Muslims)
to imbibe on spiritual succor
and become comfortably numb
acquiring appropriate trailing appellation,
yes a USDA, FDA, B Corp... and
Pink Floyd approved nom de plume,
which feeble poetic brainstorm
begat within mine
sixty plus shades of gray matter,
which exhaustive mental effort
induced silent but deadly ka-boom
one Matthew Scott Harris
rent asunder vaporized to smithereens,
hence each his personal possessions
cherished as prized heirloom
no trace left behind
regarding pulverized lovely bones,
nevertheless burnt offerings
specialists did painstakingly exhume
where Ashkenazi temple will bloom.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
*My humblest apology for lame rhyme
with previous word similar to crypt
yours truly deserted and he gypped
thee while crawling
across Sahara during nighttime
dehydration subsequently
found me tight lipped
I called Uber, but could not get a lyft.
We sat in clusters, on couches, giggling at the antics of the wild ones, the PP’s.
Aka popular peers, who were dancing with self confidence that oozed into the walls.
The PP’s were gyrating to folksongs, flinging each other over furniture, laughing also.
Their laughs made our laughs sound muted and staid until we had a bit more liquor.
Suddenly we were up dancing, part of the PP’s. No, better than the PP’s because….
Our extrovert-ism had dissipated; we were now glib and extravagant, glitzy and glamorous.
My best girls were kicking their feet into the air with a natural loss of inhibition.
I was the highest kicker of all, felt like a Rockette at Music Hall, only prettier.
Some guy laughed and pointed to our group of dancing Barbies. I smiled big time.
Flashing him my best “who gives a cranium” look, for my cranium was now dancing.
I had turned fluid, my appendages were flipping and flopping. I was unleashed.
A wild fox in the middle of a barely lit cavern of wild foxes. There had never been such a party.
Best party I ever attended, someone said in my ear. It was my friend Sadie.
She was totally utterly unabashedly in the world of Alice; and this was the tea party.
The mad hatter was the next person to catch my eye. I threw back my head like a pony.
Dancing so hard, that my heels made the clopping sounds of a seventeen hand high stallion.
If I never attended another party as long as I lived, it would be okay now.
For I was fifteen, and this party of all parties, made me feel joyful and pretty.
These feelings were terrific. This party gave me enough enthusiasm to last for the rest of my life.
A Cheshire cat was grinning at me from the couch. I gave him a flippant happy wave.
Written 12-6-2020
Contest: Party Folk Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
He begs to know "what is that smoke,
it smells like burning human skin?
and then he begins to choke
and was there to witness the madness begin
i can see him
a tattered tot in tattered cotton slacks
a child wounded, worried, weary and hurt
wearing a withered old white undershirt
soiled with the spoils of a sacrilege
a child who doesn't understand too much
yet is there to watch speciousness, sorrow and such
things he would rather not comprehend
such as atrocities no man alive can defend
and then his stare finds the ink upon his forearm
a boy who, tragically, came upon harm
a wrist with numbers in blue which belied a bastard's betrayal
inked numbers needled into his flesh
in a place where madness, murder and mahem came to mesh
a tattoo for a tatttered child
meant to separate
to humiliate
and to berate
with an unsanctified sign of hate
for hate he did
he hated the men who threw him slop
the same men who sodomized him with a mop
and made a child hop to it
whilst they doled out water at if it were liquid diamonds
sparingly
uncaringly
daringly
daring the boy unto death
but what, he wonders, happened to Ms. Sadie,
a very sweet Jewish lady
the one who used to teach him in Hebrew school
suddenly the shool had a different rule
and a different principal and or principle
one whose final solution was a sinful abomination
and a pock upon the flesh he ordered to be inked with numbers
like the little boy with a tattoo clad in tatters
and as for me nothing but his hardship matters
i can see him all too clearly
looking so youthful and wise
i envision him missing the ones who loved him dearly
and his ending to no one came as a surprise
when a tattered young youth with tattoos finally dies
(c) 2012.....PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
I dreamed last night it was so peaceful and so calm. Alanna was there I've missed her since she's been gone. We walked in a forest where the ground was covered in leaves. She told me of her new home to beautiful to believe. She ask me to stop crying that she's always at my side. That not for one second has she left me since she died. She said that there's a place that's been dark inside my heart. She needs me to fix it and showed me where to start. As she held my hand she said your hurting and I know. But you won't find any peace until you let me go. As I started crying she said just know I'm always here. She was pointing at my heart what it holds is always real. We sit beneath a tree that offered us some shade. She said you must be strong and stop being afraid. God has showed me tomorrow and all it holds for you. He see's you with my sister's and all is so brand new. He told me that your falling and soon will lose your way. That's why I'm here so I can help you up today. Don't be sad that I've gone and let my memory start to fade. As you face each tomorrow it'll be the foundation you had made. Soon we'll be together as she slipped out of my hand. God has you momma that's always been his plan. As I wiped the tears that had fallen from my eyes. I awoke from my dream as she whispered I love you please don't cry. I sat up in my bed I quickly grabbed my chest. As i gave it all to God so my baby can finally rest.
sadie raine