Long Tidying Poems
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Last year I wrote of serendipity…how out of nowhere…in a snap
when we least expect it…life…can drop a blessing in our lap.
Yesterday was Milt’s memorial service…to our son Bryan he was a good friend.
Since the service was in Asheville, North Carolina…we could not attend.
The service began at 2:00 P.M. so to honor the friendship they had built
at 2:00 P.M. we stopped for a moment to remember…and say a prayer for Milt.
Everyone who knew Milt loved him…and since we both felt the same
as a lasting tribute to him we’re having a tree planted in his name.
We learned from Bryan who attended the service that Milt had always been drawn
to the teachings and the writings of the author Kahlil Gibran.
Skip ahead to last evening…I was tidying up the bookstore…making sure everything was neat
when a book flew off the shelf…and landed face down at my feet.
I had already finished tidying and all the customers had gone.
When I picked up the book and turned it over…
it was The Prophet…by Kahlil Gibran!
Skip farther ahead to this morning (I go in early to clean the store)
when I see this bookmark about trees lying in front of me on the floor.
I knew this bookmark wasn’t there when I closed the store last night….
and the moment that I saw it…I smiled at the sight.
I can only imagine Milt had a hand in this book and bookmark finding their way to me…
as a way of saying how he enjoyed Bryan’s friendship
and to say thank you for planting him a tree.
Oh! I bought the book and the bookmark…thinking they are divinely haunted..
and I’ll be handing them off to Bryan the next time we see him…
because I think that’s what Milt would have wanted.
So thank you Milt for a little serendipity…how you out of nowhere…in a snap
when I certainly wasn’t expecting it…you dropped two blessings in my lap.
Sunday, June twentieth
thousand nineteen at eleven fifty
at 11:31 Post Meridian
Eastern Standard Time
will find Earth's North Pole tilted
closest toward sun. This demarcates
most daylight hours of the year for
people living the northern hemisphere.
Just shy of high noon sun (less than
twelve hours from drafting these lines)
nearest star in solar system reaches
highest point in the sky.
Hence hasty intent to beat buzzer sound
dashing off riding figurative one seahorse
open sleigh madly awk cross cyber sea,
aye rudder sally forth (slogging thru
virtual flotsam and jetsam) with poetic
obeisance paid to average size ball of
Earth, wind and fire, my out of this
world quasi stellar benediction, since
Earthlings traveled thru space/time
continuum circa Stonehenge, or perhaps
bajillion years ago, when predecessors
of present day primates (coon sitter terribly
less a bomb bin hubble), versus twenty first
century *****sapiens predilection for total
mortal kombat graphically spiraling downward
zeroing (kamikaze like), analogy drawn,
viz subjective mathematical roulette curves,
albeit hypotrochoids and epitrochoids staining
countless grains of sand, count them yourself,
yielding result (somewhere very loosely
approximating 7.5 x 1018, or seven quintillion,
five hundred quadrillion grains.
Such minutiae less significant within the realm
of present day *****sapiens, whose lives less
linkedin with phenomena affecting life on this
oblate spheroid, (which could come to a crashing
halt predicated on burgeoning human population
jeopardizing sustainable planet presuming
industrial paradigm prevails, thence man/
woman kind will unwittingly trumpet, and
or sound claxon (ex post facto), while
warming temperatures melt glaciers,
asper huge popsicles drowning
multitudinous habitats courtesy of
violent meteorologic cataclysms, where
Noah ark will be big enough to save majority
of creatures, and (wherein no art of the deal)
savvy enough to wall off sky high tidal
Katrina and the waves, then nature will (make
a killing) relishing tidying Atlas sized tureen
Up
in the sky
i saw a clock one
time lost in time when
had i any time to spare my
time would be timeless forever
i used to spend my time like pocket
change time after time there was no time for
time had i made time when time was free i might
be freed of time's tyranny
the words of the prophets
are written on the subway
walls... i will use my time
looking up building up
wising up growing up
listening up tidying up
speaking up owning up
signing up teaming up
lifting up dreaming up
wrapping up till my time
on earth is like the sky:
Up
written Apr 1980
revised Apr 2023
PEACE ON EARTH
Peter paints the deep blue sky,
as if at the rise of creation.
He brushes the circumference
of a brand new world.
With tears, Max moves his sweeping
brush, as if tidying up the base
of the gifted Statue of Liberty.
Her height rises into the heavens.
Peter gives depth to the earth.
Bodies of water and continents,
brought to life. The bottom third
of the canvas displays the stars
and stripes of the American flag,
carpet-like - the world’s welcome.
Each star, meticulously placed,
sparkling around our beloved planet.
Before the artist signs his masterpiece,
with simply - MAX,
Lady Liberty’s torch glows like the sun,
over New York City. This artist who
saved her from her deteriorating fate,
who painted each fallen fireman -
gifting their families with painted portraits.
Max, born in Germany, raised in China.
Max, a patriot of the United States.
Max, a gentle man, sweet and kind.
He turns around and waves,
he shook my hand. His brushstrokes
inhabit the Statue of Liberty.
He stands ten feet tall,
even with withering bones.
A class act, all displayed in his lovely painting,
Peace On Earth.
9/17/2017
Enter Your Own Competition
Sponsor: Cecilia Hopkins-Drewer
My Competition: Celebration Of Art
Art: Peter Max’s Peace On Earth
Criterion hoping to achieve: Bring to life a painting of an old or new master artist.
Peter Max is an American artist known for using bright colors in his work. Max synthesized the "Summer of Love" into artworks from canvas to mugs, clocks, scarves, clothes, and cruise ships. Reference: Wikipedia
approximating 7.5 x 1018, or seven quintillion,
five hundred quadrillion grains. This estimation
courtesy of Gwendolyn Powell, High School
from Presentation of Mary Academy (2018
graduating class) responding to an inquiry posted
on website https://www.quora.com/How-many-
grains-of-sand-are-there-on-Earth-and-how-many-
stars-are-there-in-the-universe Answered
April 15, 2018.
Such minutiae less significant within the realm
of present day *****sapiens, whose lives less
linkedin with phenomena affecting life on this
oblate spheroid, (which could come to a crashing
halt predicated on burgeoning human population
jeopardizing sustainable planet presuming
industrial paradigm prevails, thence man/
woman kind will unwittingly trumpet, and
or sound claxon (ex post facto), while
warming temperatures melt glaciers,
asper huge popsicles drowning
multitudinous habitats courtesy of
violent meteorologic cataclysms, where
Noah ark will be big enough to save majority
of creatures, and (wherein no art of the deal)
savvy enough to wall off sky high tidal
Katrina and the waves, then nature will (make
a killing) relishing tidying Atlas sized tureen
if necessary applying pledged finishing touches
repurposing third rock for another species slated
to inherit pseudo tabula rasa after Campbells,
and broth hers detox polluted primordial soup
i.e. once cleansed of poisons, thus...I condense
my Green New Deal spiel!
In my special child’s room, delightfully cozy
There watches Smidgeburner, his ape stuffed toy, cuddly fuzzy
Alongside prettisome guru, chimpanzee Betzy
Donning a hat declaring “God does not bless the lazy!”
Then Smidgeburner, a.k.a Smidge becomes busy
Tidying the bed-zoo against being messy
Guru Betzy supervises, never bossy
Smiling, she commends, “Wow; room’s not lousy!”
While cleaning, Smidge feels tired and dizzy
Turning jovial mood into a sickening frenzy...
Betzy counsels, “Working well never makes one crazy”
So she hums a tune that invites good air, soothingly breezy.
As Smidgeburner rests in their secured haven, warmly grassy
Betzy, the loving lovely guardian, is not anymore uneasy.
Concluding the monkey-tale, I hug my boy who’s now drowsy
Thanking God* for pacifying his spasm epilepsy.
*2Chronicles 5:13 …praising and thanking the LORD; …For he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever.
March 13, 2019
1st place, "The Smidget Puggily and Her Prettisome Guru" Poetry Contest Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 3/27/2019.
So many irksome dilemmas in life can be cured by simple solutions.
All are not necessarily fixed by the latest technological revolutions.
To remedy the many vicissitudes that rain down upon myself,
I grab that handy box of lowly baking soda reposing upon the shelf!
This simple, innocent looking stuff is good for many uses,
Including easing the pain of little kneesies that easily bruises.
'Tis useful for sweetening reeking walking shoes and garbage cans,
For shining silver and rejuvenating blackened pots and pans!
Even my inscrutable cat begins to purr a mile "purr" minute,
When I freshen his litter box by sprinkling baking soda in it.
If my auto picks up that scourge of the road, the dreaded tar,
Baking soda is just the thing for tidying up the car!
Why should I pay a plumber to unplug the clogged-up drain,
When a dollop of baking soda will the same results obtain?
It can be used as a toothpaste for making choppers look smarter,
Whitening them and controlling that nefarious tartar!
I've found that after my all too frequent sprees of gluttony,
That only a dose of baking soda relieves my gastric agony.
Its use for indigestion docs would discourage or even squelch.
Fiddle Faddle! I find instant relief in one humongous belch!
Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone
This was the first time I’d laid eyes on your final resting place
In front of me stood a grey granite slab covered in emerald moss
Green ivy clung to the stone and snaked round the nearby yew tree
It was evident your grave had not been visited for many many years
In fact, until ten days ago I didn’t know you existed …
A family secret kept hidden from me by my elderly ‘mother’
It wasn’t until her recent death I discovered the real truth
At the will reading the lawyer presented me with an envelope
Spidery handwriting revealed that my real mother died in childbirth
I discovered that I’d been adopted; my real name was Sara James
Seeing my original birth certificate for the first time was a huge shock
Now I know the reason I felt that I never belonged
With my raven hair and pale skin I looked very different from my sister Beth
I’d been told I looked like my great aunt and I’d never queried this
Now I stand in front of the plot where my real mother is buried
I spend an hour weeding, tidying and cleaning the gravestone
Rivers of tears run down my face when I finally reveal the inscription
Carved in the decaying stone I read
Ellen James - died 17th April 1953 aged 33
Fell asleep with her tiny angel
Susan James - died 17th April 1953 born sleeping
Family secrets kept hidden in the graveyard
Sobbing bitter tears I kneel down and leave a red rose
For my mother and my twin sister that until today I never knew existed
Fictional write for Camouflage me a Poem Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings
Theme 1 chosen - Mossy vines served as camouflage for a decaying headstone
08~04~16
in Monticello
finished rice field works
we ate dinner with droopy bodies
Raised tired and aching body
I saw father to see the beehive
I went to follow to help to solve
and then
touched two
stepped one
In the eight hives that fell forward
When a swarm of bees attacked
shouted, "the hive had fallen"
limping one aching leg
He came running
towards to hives
Bees started stinging in the face
I ran away down the hill
After a few hits,
I quietly head towards the beehive
let's get closer to that place
My father was tidying up the beehive
Come down and wash clothes
bees poured out of the clothes
come into the room
The wife pulles out the stingers
got stuck in her father-in-law.
worrying
watching this scene from the beginning
my son Abraham whispered
"even though
grandfather in such a dangerous situation
Running away... you're a unfilial child."
and Grandmom said, stroking Grandson's head
"Abraham, I didn't even come close."
The whole family laughed
As if breaking the whole town
except for me.
Time crawled silently on soft paws.
After years of anxious waiting,
Our little nest became alive,
With childish pranks and prattles
Two adorable boys ran round playfully,
Making our silent nest ring with noise.
Still remember those hectic days,
When my hands were so full
From tidying the house to keeping ready
Their school uniforms washed and ironed.
Helping them with their homework,
Packing tiffin, clearing the mess,
And being off to office for work.
By evening, came back dead tired,
For another round of mechanical cooking,
Queries like “are these the only snacks to eat?”
“Where is my workbook” et al make one truly mad.
Life wasn’t easy, with struggles rife.
During those years, how I longed,
For a little rest and quiet,
But at the same time, frolicking in the beauty
Of dreams built around our kids
Time speeded away so quick.
The boys grew very fast and flew away,
From the shelter of their comfort (?) zone
To far off places for study and later for work.
The house is back to silence once again.
Now how I long for the good old hectic days.
Memories sprout like pale shrubs,
In a famished backyard!
Our life is now immobilized in a coma of stillness.
On lonely evenings sitting in our empty nest,
We wait intent for their phone calls.
Often our hearts are set ablaze,
At the prospect of their coming home.
Parenthood is nothing but loving and losing!
May.7.2023
Empty Nest Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Cooper Etheridge