Short Coifed Poems

your smart hat and coifed 
charcoal brows your blue
questions about how I’m 
moving through the day
have me in hand 
reminiscing
making me want you
and reminiscing
more and more...

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Me thinks
Pink is her favorite color
In which she is
So elegantly dressed.
She is the grand dame, in
Pink sweater,
Pink skirt
Pink coat
Pink hose
Pale shoes
And pink pearls clipped in her
Perfectly coifed
Champagne colored hair
And diamonds in her smile.


(this is so true, I saw this lady (a stranger to me)
twice in one day...the poem had to be written...no,
I never saw her again to give it to her...2003...

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The malls are decorated
And happy voices sing.
It's Christmas in the Northwest,
Let all the churchbells ring.
We haul out our umbrellas
And put our slickers on.
We dash between the showers
To get our shopping done.
There are Santas on each corner
As perfect gifts we chase.
We sacrifice our coifed hairdos,
A smile on every face.
It's Christmas in the Northwest
From mountain top to vale.
The raindrops won't deter us
From one more Christmas sale.


won 4th place...

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Manhattan hi-rise nestles
a yawning head-in-the-clouds woman
ready for another consumptive day.
Shod in Choo's, coifed in beige
arising from a long slender nape,
she leaves her nest
after a wave to Amin, her Bichon Frise.
Down-to-the-lobby sashay,
swinging a Gucci full of plastic,
belies an air of loneliness
as she walks to a waiting limousine.
Always caged, the smile is frozen
beneath a botoxed brow.
And the point of it all?
Well, for this life ...
there isn't one....

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