I really didn't need to go
But I found a reason to leave
I got in the car, put her in drive
To shop at Stuff Mart
...just a little bit
I didn't want the whole
A piece of the pie would do
What they left were crumbs
The part unnecessary for pleasure
...just crumbs, really
Don't bother to get up
I can still walk and get around
Your requests must be met
While mine can remain, unfound
...just...for...a bit
No, I am not a victim
I left that way long ago
I grew a pair, manned up
Realizing the cost for care
...just...justice would NOT be served
I decided a hug was too much
I decided consideration a debt
Reciprocity demands service
And I, well, I am unwilling to pay
...so, I JUST...stay
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-24-2026
Simply absurd
Heard the news
Snotty residents
On pedants pews
Clear precedents
Vice do choose
Drive us potty
In arty farty mews
Latte & biscotti
With dotty views
Party always grotty
Spice will lose
A slutty hotty
Putty in her hand
Seedy queues
For smutty totty
Or bit of botty
Plenty of booze
A nutty hinterland
Hear our boos
Us well manned
Against this ruse
So underhand
With their coups
Good times banned
Westminster eschews
In pubs can't stand
Everyone poo poos
That's what's planned
If papers peruse
Chaos canned
Soho's Blues
YOUNG
Young and strong and full of vigor
So proud to answer the call
Crisp new uniform
Standing sharp and tall
Solemn with intent
To serve for one and all
His country and comrades
He bravely manned the wall
To stand against the bitter foe
And endure war’s awful squall
With valor and service true
Til the fateful fall
Then home again and still young
But only full of rigor
Dismally dashing, clashing cankering, sunken ravines
Braved the batterings of the black, heaving sea
Seized upon the cyclical stream ‘lined ‘long the wind
Yonder b’yond the decrepit hail,
Nailing mine knees upon this hill.
I sang by a bygone cheer, a childish chortle
Honed where, and whence
Mine woes wade with homeward hopes.
Now, where one dare awoke,
a-top such the slope
To sing a song that shall beat at the bulkheads,
of the boats borne below
A sonnet sung to arise with the seeds of the soil
Arise as a rose
Manned with the majesty, the masculinity,
Of the man within me.
So to see the afflicting affections,
Of the sanctity without me.
So to see and reel in the eel,
Of un-static enthusiasm.
So to know, mine might may deem me,
Not the man within me,
A dastardly indelicate dame.
11//5//2026
Red light
Shining bright
Such the sight
Twirling bright
After a toothless fight
Sticks and pucks
What's a Canuck?
Many asked
Listening to the Islander perform winning tasks
Potvin was the man
In demand
Waiting for John Sterling’s winning command
“Islander Goal, Islander Goal”
Coming from the ice that was cold
Trophy lifted, five times in a row
While Rangers bowl
Throwing strikes
John Sterling manned WMCA’s mike
Replacing Simone
Who was hanging up his phone
Wanting to hear
Nassau Veteran’s cheer
Near
Hofstra where the Jets train
And never complained
Since Broadway Joe
Headed to a Hollywood show
Knees were saying, “time to go”
Sadly, Stanley Cup was too violent for regular routine TV
And that is why we appreciate John Sterling’s decree
When Trottier did his thing
And Chico was the goalie King
Who was there?
John Sterling’s enthusiastic flair
Bringing victories home
For those alone
Enjoying the Cinco mayo championship run
Entertaining and fun
My heart was manned for you.
But I could not be your Boo.
All you care about is cash.
Your words have given me negative rash.
When I'm stronger you will not be my Boo.
Days of poet motivate calm compassion.
Sheer injustice evident—every turnpike
manned by soldiers’ wild unfamiliar passion
planned around harsh Strike.
Summonsed lamb to slaughter, but still respecting
burning bush—obedience lit by daydream,
Ares now advance with his pride, suspecting
alter in regime.
Bending truth to suit the occasion’s essence,
whispers coil in shadows of veiled renitence.
Glow of waters lap at the swirling valence.
Ebbing of sentience.
Psappho wept—her dream has dispersed as token.
Rose-fingered moon’s face will exceed all starlight.*
Silence now descends tableau muffled, Brocken
Spectre of moonlight.
Some say the muscles that cause a frown,
Number the Seventy-Five in this here Sasol town;
To twinkle and beam needs a trio-think o' that!
Which heavy load weighs on spirit down?
You carry WRATH,that deadly sin,I swear,
A heavy burden upon your face to bear;
Your PRIDE prevents a buddy from giving aid,
You let that ANGER fester in the air.
ENVY of others' calm a deeper rut does dig,
You nurture tempers that are all too big;
While GLUTTONY of rage and bitter thoughts,
Makes of your soul a withered,broken twig.
Oh, seek ,seek a true friend's ear,a loyal kinsman's hand,
A professional,and pay him, who helps to understand
The bitter fire that rages in your heart,
Before the moody blues lays waste your peaceful land.
For though the SLOTH of seeking help seems grand,
The cost is great,not easy to withstand;
A lighter load with just a smile is found
Than Seventy-Five by raging anger manned.
Manned missiles in a queue,?Each big as a prehistoric creature,?Lined up for a lowkey suicidal mission.
I fly so many times-?I don’t know which one will be the last.?Should I finally buy into the reassuring safety claims-?Marketing ploys boasting longevity of service??Nineteen years of going places,?Says a cheapy flight.?No class system could save Titanic;?Would I be so lucky to stump fate?
The airline food-?Promises, with no exaggeration,?It will be there for us-?Throughout the ups and downs of life and beyond.
But turbulence comes unannounced,?Like a bumpy bus ride.?A thousand other rough patches later,?Still stirs up anxiety and TV dinners within.
I think I got away this time.?The tyres light celebratory sparks?upon meeting the ground.?And we, realists who don’t experience happiness-?Ever even once,?Overanalyse ourselves into painful exhaustion.
One day a year to mark a sacrifice profound
One day a year to visit the ground
One day a year for the bugle to sound
One day a year a nation’s memory is found
Hardly enough for the terrible cost
Hardly enough for the lives that were lost
One day a year for the flags to adorn
One day a year the fallen to mourn
One day a year that honors our fallen
One day a year the nation is all in
Hardly enough for those left behind
Hardly enough is just being kind
Each day of the year they manned the wall
Each day of the year they served through it all
Each day of the year standing brave and tall
Each day of the year until the final fall
One day of the year to remember the valor
Hardly enough when measured by the pallor
Of the faces who bled and the families who suffer
So one day a year
One day a year
One day a year
Is hardly enough for
Duty
Honor
Sacrifice
Remember it all and never forget
For one day a year is all that they get
Ornery welcomed
Persnickety aboard
Stubborn manned the wheel
Mischief infiltrated
Nooks and crannies
Teamwork sank
~ the ship piecemeal
I wake up at midnight
To the sound of a summer storm,
The breeze upon my face
Feels so gentle and so warm.
Then I'm looking down on
An endless , clear mountain stream . . .
Drifting through the raindrops in a dream.
There were books I had read,
High upon a distant shelf;
Written by family
Though there's nothing of myself.
Words paint the histories,
Yet I'm far from ev'ry scene . . .
Drifting through the raindrops in a dream.
The last song echoes soft,
From a long abandoned stage;
Voices are now silenced,
They'd come from another age.
Still I have heard their words
Which came gently and serene . . .
Drifting through the raindrops in a dream.
Waves lap at the shorelines,
Washing footprints from the sand;
Lighthouses on the hills
Are no longer being manned.
Underneath the moonlight
Sailing ships can still be seen . . .
Drifting through the raindrops in a dream.
Round and round in circles
Going back to where I've been,
Caught reliving my life
Over and over again.
I'm forever searching
For whatever all this means . . .
As I drift through the raindrops in my dreams.
No more conversation we said what we said
No need to continue something that’s dead
Drinking coronas smoking weed infused with diamonds
Moving on and moving up and the noose tightens
Didn’t matter the hand i was dealt I always held on to my card
Saw I was a wrong
Looked in the mirror and manned up took care of my kids
Look Back
They said the ****s hard
I think hell is like a midnight grocery store.
Shelves filled with burning crucifixes and pestilence.
Bloody-black water up to the necks of Half-souls.
Groping mindlessly in the dark...
Searching for God in brackish hopelessness.
Flint and wooden carts colliding-
Black water biters abound.
The checkout line is a turnstile.
Manned by faceless, dripping things.
Wielding holy punchers.
Eternally pocking your debit card soul.
While howling Who's Next!
democracy is
like mobocracy or like
gangocracy ~ folks
conservatives are
like preservatives ~ packaged
seasoned condiments
green party nature's
most guarded percentages ~
dimes quarters and halves
national org. of
women ~ beauty contest is
the bow wow n-o-w club
peace corp manned front lines
hyped to show peace sign with hands
~ fingers ... two not one
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