Saw a friend for lunch; we meet
To talk of health and aging.
A cozy booth; we schmooze and eat,
Our changes up for gauging.
The negatives of age contrast
With pics of a vacation
So beautiful that they surpassed
Our senior state fixation.
Until at last, we split the bill,
The credit cards extended.
We signed our names and knew the drill;
Our lovely meal had ended.
I folded my receipt in two
And in the bag I carry,
I stuffed it, like I always do,
So very ordinary.
We said goodbye and headed out,
Where home for us both beckoned.
About the check, I had a doubt;
I’ll look at home, I reckoned.
An hour later, no receipt
Appeared, despite my searching.
I sadly must admit defeat,
A getting old besmirching.
There is a pleasure in the wayward wood;
unmapped, where none have been or stood;
To revel in a reckless romp on a rampant shore.
To mingle with the Universe, with chaos in its core.
Please sir! Shake me, but never a stir.
Keep my flavors apart, avoid the blended blur;
for the glass remembers what has passed before,
and wants to shake me up, for once and ever more.
Mingling begins when friends refuse
to dance together, or to cuddle or schmooze.
The fracture hums, the doorway is left ajar,
inviting others in to outshine the star.
The sacred shun, while the silly can mix so readily,
wanting to see, and be seen, out there so steadily;
joining in, and dancing with everyone,
full of verve and fervor, playing in the sun.
Mingling loosens the taut, tense edges of self,
no longer locked away like bookends on a shelf.
We find that joining in does not split us apart,
but twines the threads of inclusion around the heart.
Shaken and softly poured, but never stirred,
the self converges, confluent; it's never blurred.
Becoming a course, and an unique ingredient,
that has a discrete taste, immediate and expedient.
Each month a craft fair,
is held at Pyree Fields in the open air.
All the local crafters are there,
proudly showing off their homemade fare.
Behind each stall, a pair of eyes stares,
hoping you will buy some of their wares,
or better still, admire their works and cares,
in making things, every devoted crafter shares.
Step right up to the craft fair.
Baskets, blankets, knitted ware.
Soaps that smell like orchard rains.
Scarves crocheted from woolen skeins.
Leather belts, and rings of brass.
Goblets and bowls of colored glass.
Jams from berries, wild and tart.
Paintings brushed with love of heart.
Patchwork quilts and scarves of dreams.
Homemade fudge, sweets and ice-creams.
Pottery crockery with glazes that swirl.
Wind-chimes and vanes, ribbons that twirl.
Wooden goblets and bowls, timber-scented schmooze.
Wax candles set, in solemn rows, pining like pews.
All around, the crowds have streamed,
past stalls half-baked and well esteemed.
With every artist standing up so tall,
So sure their work outshines them all.
So let's not disappoint them!
Join in Folks! Cheers!
Like cherry blossoms in the spring
the leaves of autumn loosely cling
upon the drab, dark brownish bark
creating contrasts, stunning, stark.
As autumn leaves descend in droves
upon the earth like manna loaves
they blanket her with a patchwork quilt
like muddy waters settle silt.
The autumn leaves of various hues
oh, how they, our senses schmooze.
The yellow, brown, orange, and red
delight our sight before they’re shed.
Who would believe that dying leaves
could such enchanting magic cleave.
What a parable! Beauty in death,
'Tis how God views His saints’ last breath.
A course-correction knife was plunged too late.
A smile was still, upon her lips, that date.
Clueless, for most of life, the cherries, green.
Her shoulder-bluffs and high-peak cheeks are seen.
She stands five feet, barely a statue-bold.
Appears quite warm with bundled arms of gold.
A pointed thumb at chest level. A charm
Bracelet does shake with silver-fake alarm.
The lyrics play a lycra-schmooze with stretch.
Uncanny walking cane, amidst homestretch.
A slide puzzle, her wrinkles crash and burn.
Only then, girl, a happenstance upturn.
A giving tree, with scathing sack of seed.
The dandiest scatters of yellow weed.
A field not quite a rose, with weaker stems.
A chosen path amidst headstones - few gems.
But remembered, oh yes. Her name engraved
and youthful picture set. ‘Tis what she craved.
pink paragon
renders no features;
a buoyant olive
shouldered above florid wings.
golden halo, open ring.
nature’s schmooze, profound.
deeply saturated midnight
in the labyrinth of the deep.
peacock blush of fancied feathers.
the heart beats
a magnanimous red,
emphatically so,
with corona seeds
like rays of the sun.
Max’s angel in surround sensation
would overwhelm the flesh.
the scent of peak, kaleidoscopic climax, meridian elocution -
an euphoric Eden.
Razzmatazz is jazz beyond roots and blues.
Razzle-dazzle kaleidoscope of hues.
Music and dance with multi-color moves.
Its pizzazz and cool schmooze amuses.
It fizzes glitz and glamour in views.
Which delight even the sanest muses,
To write poems no reader refuses,
To be dazzled, frazzled by its uses
Of words come to play with no excuses.
Work
I tap and I fiddle
I type and reply
For people-machines;
Have developed an eye
I make and repair
I schmooze and I laugh
There's a time I have made
The occasional gaff
But I hope that my presence
In the whirl of it all
Is stable and calming
In the midst of the squall
Of the storm in the workplace
Where friction exists
That I smooth out the wrinkles,
That my face kinda fits
I hope that where Spirit
Is lacking in reams
I can channel some love
In bright flowing streams
To bring hope and fulfillment
A sense we belong
That there's more than the grind
As we bumble along
I hope I'll be missed
Once erased from this circuit
And my daily devotion
Has been totally worth it
For now I'm content
As I tightrope this circus
For my heart knows I'm here
For much higher a purpose
Jinjagoliath
24th February 2023
When things go wrong, I never sulk or sing the blues.
I'd rather go shopping for a brand-new pair of shoes,
or treat myself to a gigantic banana split at Molly Moos.
I'll not give up that treat no matter who might accuse
me of gaining weight. I don't care about their views.
Sometimes, when I'm alone I call a friend to schmooze
about so many things taking place in the world news.
Hardships, hatred, and wars that only serve to confuse
me. I fear a nuclear bomb threat even if it's just a ruse.
How we can tame the ire of mongers, I have no clues,
but this much I know, we must find a way to diffuse
the greedy need of those whose vitriol does not amuse
peacemakers who know how much there is to lose.
"Lawdy mercy, I's frustrated," wrote Langston Hughes.
A line that would bring a frown to the face of my muse,
so, I'm tempted to do it just to watch her blow a fuse.
October 5, 2022 ~ Single Stanza Monorhyme Contest
Hosted by L Milton Hankins
In July mosquitoes fly
And hummingbirds are humming.
Bees will buzz and all because
They don’t know fall is coming.
Weeks remain so none complain
That summer zips by quickly.
School is out and kids, no doubt,
Don’t mind when skin is prickly.
Folks will schmooze at barbecues
And drink like no tomorrow.
Through their sweat, they all forget
These days are just to borrow.
B elieving in a muse meant to amuse
R ecites his verses leaving clues
I mpetuous no time for schmooze
A ficionado of smooth rhythm and blues
N obody alive could fill Brian’s shoes
S avory contests are his prized specialty
T allies judging without awarding penalty
R hyme or free verse, sweet or salty
A bove all Brian will never tire
N o one more prolific proclaims the town crier
D rumroll please for the sire we most admire
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on January 6, 2021 for contest CAPTURE THE ESSENCE sponsored by MARGARITA LILLICO - RANKED 8TH
She was a cute little girl with orange dancing shoes.
Those dancing shoes had rhinestone eyes that could schmooze.
Her name was Willa May, and she had a bear that was purple.
He begged her to name him King Bear Krabby McMurple.
Of course she did, because she was in charge of her bed.
Which is where he sat watching Willa May paint her doll red.
At night they would cuddle up and go into a deep fun sleep.
Dream adventures took them all over the world in a big yellow jeep.
They drove to Africa, Hawaii, the Atlantic Ocean, and Timbuktu.
They saw parrots in the jungle. One of them a brilliant azure blue.
They tasted Belgium chocolates when in Europe, so delicious too!
They travelled the world over and over in their hazy nightly hue.
Mommy and Daddy sometimes went them if they decided to let them in.
They went swimming with the dolphins, and the sharks loaned them a fin.
They loved their dreamy dreamtime, they took naps each Saturday.
The rest of the time, they hung together, skating, biking, and had bubble play.
I loosen my belt and remove my shoes
So, dear, what's going on in the news
They blocked the streets; tore down statues
No surprise there; of what were they accused
The protestors, nothing; but the statues held leftist views
What? What are you saying, dear? Now I'm confused
Honey, it seems that a staunch abolitionist was the first one abused
Huh? An abolitionist? For what was his statue so cruelly used
I don't know. He organized a militia to fight slavery; he was super-enthused
-- Oh, yeah. Hans Christian Heg; maybe one of those religious yahoos
Then that explains that!... Darling I'd really like to continue to schmooze --
But I promised the girls I'd help topple Arethusa of Syracuse...
Notes: Hans Christian Heg's statue was, indeed decapitated today in
Madison, Wisconsin. His 'crime:' He was an abolitionist who organized
a group of Wisconsinites into a Union militia in order to fight against
slavery in the Civil War... Go figure!
Arethusa was a naiad nymph of the sacred Greek colony of Syracuse.
Virgil felt that she inspired pastoral poetry. (Like the above... lol).
They were higher than kites that day.
Was it hard drugs or was it booze?
I stayed away for I had fear.
And I hope that this was okay.
In my mind one was rather dear.
No I am not trying to schmooze.
That attitude you’d better lose.
They stayed together Mac and Jack.
Making comments and laughing hard.
Made fun of the family bard.
So I would never help them now.
For cousins they are not a wow.
Left them at that picnic table.
Underneath that giant cable.
Last time I saw cousins of mine
They were trying to make beer fine.
They’d built themselves a little still.
Mac Cuz was in his underwear.
They drank until they’d had their fill.
So have you seen this crazy pair?
A Big NO to God
Some take great pride in declaring God dead.
What are the thoughts in
their godless heads?
A world where infanticide is perfectly alright.
And "choice"is a word, that makes evil, right?
Where Rabbis are shot dead in the street?
And a Christian poem, their eyes will not meet.
And love and world peace are their hue and cry.
Yet, they can't understand why, the violence, asking,
"why, oh why?"
Brainwashed in our society to think guns kill people.
You never find these folks in a synagogue nor under
a steeple.
Don't you know it's fine today, to attack the police?
And the working man, well, he must be fleeced!
It's perfectly OK to do whatever you choose!
Their close friends only, with them, do they want to
schmooze.
Chasing animal and tree rights, yes that's their religion.
And so, Almighty God, is crushed to a smidgen!
December 26, 2019
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