I learned to smile with grit in my teeth,
as I watched the waves, come in, and go out.
They made a hollow in the sand,
left behind when the tide rushed out.
For whom is this hole?
I dip in the hole to swim, treading water,
kicking just enough, to keep
my nose and head,
just above the water, breathing.
To whom does this head belong?
I walk in the footprints left in the sand
by someone walking at dawn,
avoiding the long steps made
by a jogger running on their toes.
By whom were these prints made?
I call out to the gulls and terns
that pass by, calling their cries out to me.
They look back puzzled, that anyone
could be so rude, to imitate them.
To whom were these calls made?
The wind is strong and so instant,
It blows sand and spray in my face.
It mats my hair, stings my eyes,
and coats my whole body with salt.
From whom does this salt-shaker belong?
I throw a ball into the surf for a dog,
that came up with ball in its mouth.
It crashed valiantly through the waves,
returning half choked with sand grit stuck
between its teeth, and tongue lagging to one side.
For whom did I throw this ball?
She had feet that danced the fanciest dances
He stared as they created magic up and down the floor
He had never seen such feet.
He was entranced, enthralled, excited
She enthused, inspired and empowered him.
He began to dance.
“I must have had too much to drink,” the old lady said.
She was the only one still sitting at the table.
“That damned salt shaker is dancing”
9/17/2023
At times, we simply just do not think!
We just adore other poets and their ink?
Have you taken time, looking into your soul?
Read your own poetry, discover poetic gold!
You must fall in love with your life and self.
Before a truthful line of poetry, will be felt.
Otherwise, they are just simply lines on paper.
About as impressive as an empty, salt shaker.
Being you, fully, without a hint of reservation.
Touching others, lighting souls with sensation!
Written April 14, 2017
It's easy to fall in love
Even easier to break apart
I've been trying for six long years
To mend this broken heart
You used to talk to me so sweet
My biggest fan in the bleacher seats
From the rose bush to the baseball bat
Why'd you have to go and be like that
Why don't you just be like John Wayne
Why'd you go and have to die
Why don't you just be like John Wayne
Even he cried sometimes
Life never looked so bleak
Than the day you left me
It's easy to forgive sometimes
But this ain't one of those times
Sticks and stones may break my bones
Glass houses are all I've known
From the salt shaker to the baseball bat
Why'd you have to go and be like that
Why don't you just be like John Wayne
Why'd you go and have to die
Why don't you just be like John Wayne
Even he cried sometimes
There was a time when words were derived,
not slovenly crafted with prefixes.
When drain meant to let the water out.
When cast from window, meant to throw it out.
That was before the arrival of de- words
De-water means to drain, why not just drain the water out?
Defenestration is de- French for, throwing someone or something from a window
Deforestation is chopping down the trees
Decoupling is divorce, or detachment of carriage from engine.
Demystify is to remove the spook.
Departmentalise is to open the gates on open day to the silos.
Depolarise is inclusion .
Depigmentation is to bleach or whiten.
Desensitise is to get over, your touchy self.
Desalinate is to go easy on the salt-shaker.
Detoxify is to flush and cleanse.
Desertification is to water the parched fields.
Dehumanise is the demise of individuality.
Demise is goodbyes.
Come On,
Let's End the De-s
De-End
is a dusty rippled salt shaker,
an old working girl
found busy or on a stroll,
in a brothel house
my grandmother said
was often around,
when people sold
what they could to survive.
See her in the morning,
and her body
is an empty bottle
of sweet red wine,
bought cheap,
kept to deny the rough time.
You say now,
she was once round
and smooth as a glass egg
with a rose,
blooming in her breast.
This woman you knew
carried in her purse
a working poet
and a bronze genie lamp,
in case the days moved slow.
This woman you knew,
displayed a blue-purple dragon
she couldn’t let go
you knew, once were her husbands,
when his father died in his presence,
and while he loved drugs.
This woman you remember
you called a treasure
a face, a rainbow, a toy necklace.
This woman you sensed,
reached for you, during moments
when rainfall increased
sparrows flew by, and her home
a sand-feathered dream catcher.
Now nobody cares to admire anymore.
I do not eat salt, she says haughtily
Making me want to pour a salt shaker into my mouth
I appease myself by devouring a family sized bag of potato chips
Unsalted? Ha! Right!
Chocolate does not agree with me, she says in a superior way.
I pick up the twelve pound box and set it by my recliner
Ready to eat each and every piece while I watch
one of my favorite movies. I do not deprive myself.
I am watching my weight, she says.
Making me laugh and feel I have one-upped her
as she weighs less than eighty-nine pounds
and has no boobs thanks to no salt and no chocolate.
What a catastrophic place
There's no up or down in this space
To see it is a multitude of discombobulated grace
There are papers piled high upon my desk
The only thing others see is a god-awful mess
No organized way to tell anyone else I guess
But I know where everything is
Last month's bills and this week's word quiz
By golly I think I'm a real organizational whiz
There are ten stacks of folders with stuff coming out
There are books to read, a salt shaker, my cat's old collar no doubt
Yesterday's pizza still standing proud on top of magazines from a local boy scout
This is my true countenance I know
A freelance genius always willing to show
The importance of going the extra mile just to keep things all in a row
November 22, 2019
Strand Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
When Grandmother Kangaroo goes for a visit,
She takes twenty teacakes, and old alarm clocks.
Her pouch could contain a tiara exquisite,
Mint toothpaste, her quilting, and pink jagged rocks.
She's never without her big key chain and cough drops.
There's even a salt shaker for when she cooks.
When Grandma the kangaroo goes for a long stop,
There's glasses for reading; she takes along books!
The mischievous things you often did,
like taking the salt shaker and loosening the lid
It was only a matter of time before you got it good
so you had to get away with as much as you could
Pulling the sheets from the bed and making a tent
Swinging on the curtains until the rod bent
Blaming your sister for writing on the wall
though she couldn't spell yet and was only a foot tall
Unplugging the alarm clock so you could miss school
Overflowing the tub to make a swimming pool
Did you ever show out in the grocery store
then when you got home run and lock the door
You'd either get caught or someone would snitch
Then your legs would get it...that's right the switch!!
when my body is done
put me in an oven
and bury my ashes in a
sea salt shaker
scatter me sparingly
as you would
a fine condiment
in a recipe
into your daily life
during its preparation
so that
we may add the flavor
and the texture
of the past
when it is all gone
you
can refill
the sea salt shaker
Sometimes a need for added salt
Can be a good meal's only fault.
I am so glad that I am able
To have salt shaker on my table.
I'd rather chew on dry asphalt
Than finest meat devoid of salt.
And if that meal ends with a treat
It satisfies my yen for sweet.
I got my taste for salt from Papa
And one for sweets from my dear Mama.
Think of yourself as a grain of salt
in Gods, filled with love salt shaker
Salt he adds to his eternal soup
enhancing with love he savors
There are a very few grains
close up to the top
They,the innocent ones
are the first to drop
Also many others
in this big ole salt shaker
Poured to the exact place
to be used by our creator
Yet,some stubborn grains
still clinging to the sides
In disbelief that it was He
who created their simple lives
If you feel that you've been moved,
at any moment by our creator
Think of these loving grains of salt,
being shaken for the love he savors
Dan Kearley:10-9-12
Who's going to fill up the salt shaker
And put the toilet paper back on the roll?
Who's going to end this story?
Or will it "forever" go untold?
Who's going to fold their clothes
and pick up paper off the floor?
Who's gonna act surprised
When mama "ain't" here no more!
Life is full of many colors
Gorgeous Yellow suitcase
Several Red daisies
One Black diamond
Warm Lavender blanket
Comfortable Orange dress
Irritating Blue screen
Many White stars
Bouncy Green ball
Soft Teal pillow
Reflective Gold frame
Full Maroon Moon
Desirable Pink shoes
Uncommon Tan letter
Dark Ashen shadow
Beautiful Chartreuse bottle
Unique Purple artwork
Delicious Ivory melon
Needed Brown thread
Heated Mustard tub
Long Silver scarf
Painful Aqua tattoo
Pretty Peach coasters
Useable Grey salt shaker
Wonderful Multi-colored piñata
A heart which is full of color
Sings its masterfulness to all
Russell Sivey
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