No idea just what they’re for –
But when I’m held, they touch the floor;
Dad then moves them each in turn
As if there’s something I should learn.
They certainly have a lot of toes,
When I can count, I’ll let you know;
But I can reach them each to wiggle,
Tickling me enough to giggle.
And though I’m chillin’ on my back,
I sense there’s something that I lack,
Can’t wait for whatever may come next –
As life’s comprised of tiny steps.
Dear Future Generations,
The candle did not know whether to snuff herself out
Or begin dancing around the cemetery and give a shout
She knew she was not going to join her cousin, on walk-about
But other than that, she had a vague sense of doubt
Who do you think you are? Asked the snippy porcupine.
He was still pouting when she said he could not make her “mine”.
Candle walked off, did not give him a backward glance or time.
She was late for a date with a count who fed her lime.
The paintbrush in the corner who was conjuring graffiti
Rolled his eyes at these two, their conversations were needy
He pretended he did not care, but he had his eye on little candle too
She walked off swinging her fancy ways in the fog of the blue.
The candle had no idea how attractive she was; that is for sure.
Or how innocent, for she was white, young, kind and bridal pure.
If she had known how the handsome young paintbrush felt about her
She might have given him attention, for he was a gentleman for sure.
I have no idea why I am not a man
I have always wanted to be one
The boys could yell out answers in class
I got slammed to the floor for yelling them out
I despise things women are supposed to like.
Cleaning, cooking, dusting, moping, vacuuming
I will not do them; they are redundant and boring
I have no idea why I am not a man
I had an idea for a poem
You must trust me - it was great.
I would love to share it with you,
But it left on an outbound freight.
Snail travels to Japan in the fanciest way
We see him traveling, he’s cutesy today
He is wearing a camera around his neck.
He stops to give the emperor a genuflect.
His hat is from Australia, his eyeglasses from the wild.
He scoots around old men, he picks up a lady bug child.
We flowers surround him, admiring his ensemble of beauty.
It is our Japanese privilege, not our tradition or duty.
she likes the solitude of her morning walk
loving the striped skies of the gorgeous horizon
having no idea she is being stalked
or that this is her last day
He thought
He knew her,
In hindsight,
He really
Had no idea.
Man of la Mancha
Has no idea I am a dragon
He thinks I am a dog
With a tail that is a’wagg’n.
His sidekick Panza knows
But does not give it away.
I love spending time with them.
They know how to laugh and play.
Lilian invited us to her recital
she was a quintessential tomboy
We could not imagine her in a skirt
Or as a dancer
We attended anyway, for she was our friend.
We had always seen her in bulky sweats.
We had no idea she was light on her feet
or that she could look girly.
The prima donna was a whirlwind of activity
she looked like a bonfire, popping in oranges and yellows
Glitzy sparks appeared to leap from her tulle skirt.
We were mesmerized, was that Lilian?
She held us captive with her beauty.
We would never see her as a lumpy tomboy again.
Now that we had seen her as a dancer.
She was exquisite, the quintessential ballerina!
She had no idea how sultry she was
Thinking as a mother of two, she was average
She was a rare beauty, inside and out.
Her skin was almost as soft as their baby’s skin.
Her husband could barely look away.
She was his undoing, his princess, his goddess.
How had he ever landed a woman like this?
She gave him a knowing smile, and he fell apart as usual.
Camouflage me quickly the fowl yelled as he landed.
Did not know who he was, but we ran out with paints - blue and red.
Can we colorize your feathers asked our leader, Mrs. Banded.
Do what you must to keep me away from the broiler, he said.
What are you talking about? Asked our naïve chicks of yellow.
With one warning look, he shushed his mouth, a wiser fellow.
What did he mean, dad? My chicks asked me that night.
I have no idea, I told them. I tucked them in, their eyes big and bright.
I want them to stay young and innocent as long as I can.
There will be plenty of time to ruin their dreams, agreed Mr sandman.
is it misguided pride
when in every way
I want you
to take me
possess me
claim what is yours
all the while refusing
to hand myself over
like some cheap prize
at a country fair
everybody plays a game
abiding by the rules
concocted in their head
when do we realize
that some games
have no winners
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
She gives me her ideas, none of them mine.
I nod my head, but my soul is dancing in time.
The hippie wagon is coming for me today.
With a smile and a wave I yell hip hip hooray!
She is a member of a political party I abhor.
But this does not keep her away from my door.
She hates liberals, she tells me, and I keep quiet.
She sees the hippie wagon; I think it’s a riot!
But why would you go with those people? She asks, a bit dippy.
She has no idea but others know I am totally a hundred percent hippie.
I give her the peace sign as they carry me away.
Seeing her astonished face has kind of made my day!
did the floor
had supper
also...tested some oldt candle lamps
andt....now
fueling thoughts on
tme
and...ancient greek ideas
that in some ways
were about 'being'
as a geometry
of times leftovers
'manifesting'...as environ andt us
stans sand
Ballerina envy in a rhino’s body
I toast one high, drinking up my toddy.
Others probably think I was always old like this.
I give them a wink and blow them a kiss.
They are horrified, seeing an old crone sitting here.
Having no idea that I was once young, sexy and dear.
I smack my lips and make loud sounds of the crazy.
At least when I get carted off, they can’t call me lazy.
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