When you try to solve your problems
with the swing of an angry fist
that cannot be unswung
nor the damage caused undone
regret will sidle up
hollow out your belly
and set your mind awhirl
conveying very clearly
that what you should have done
was take a breath or two
go back a bit in time
to when that fist
would not have swung
to when Boots
raised from just a puppy
relied on your protection
and came to you for comfort
unclench that angry fist
and remember how it felt
when Boots was in your lap
and you used that unclenched fist
to gently stroke his warmth
as he lazily stretched and yawned.
Categories:
sidle up, anger,
Form: Prose Poetry
My father passed a few years back, and he keeps appearing in my dreams, always on the same street and roughly the same dialogue. The poem/story has no real format. Just my feelings on it. Thanks!
Silent Street
On streets where past and present collide, holograms ride delta waves
You sidle up, gate light and easy, mid conversation
I Parse the rhetoric for glimmers of acceptance
But again benign, drivel muddles the way
The one sided blather on photography labors uncontested
Your catalogue, a thorough exhibition of you
Fitting. Buried emotions etched in celluloid
Reveling in silent shame, feeling a camaraderie
of sorts
Time is short, so silent I stay
Ears hinged for signs of accountability
A modicum of responsibility
And so I wait...
The pipe store beckons, it's almost time
Fading into the night he says We'll meet up later
I know we will. So Maybe, next time.
Till then, in silent space, I standalone. Apologies unrendered.
Categories:
sidle up, anger, bereavement, death, depression,
Form: Free verse
he was pouring at the happening and usually there is a fair amount of disdain for the enthusiasts
who like to sidle up to sample the snacks, libations and what have you goodies.
he was a wisp of fair blond - a hippy kid.
he asked me if I would like him to crack my can of brew
I told him that this was not necessary
I looked at some stuff and listened to some other stuff
trying to maintain a bit of elbow room
while the crowds swirled and yammered
biding some time before refill and then I went back for another and he
cracked this one for me and said "cheers"
I drank it down and went for a walk down the street
I did not want to appear to be too gluttonous so I gave it some minutes
when I resurfaced in the crowded room and foraged thru the groups back to my man
he smiled and said "I grabbed this one at the bottom so that its chilled and now it needs to be shotgunned".
I laughed and retorted with double thumbs up
Impressed that this cat accurately assessed my quench and provided a
responsive and congenial atmosphere in one that can be rather unpleasant and clannish
my man had it
and I salute him for it
the damn hippy dippy
had it
kindness
Categories:
sidle up, innocence,
Form: Narrative
She is wearing fuchsia, he told me.
It was easy to see her now.
No wonder he was smitten.
She had a confidence that uplifted the garden.
The other flowers paled in comparison.
I am shy, he told me. I cannot do this!
You are a bee, I said sternly. She is expecting you.
He made a couple of attempts to sidle up, but failed.
You do it, he told me. I’m not ready.
I rolled my eyes.
Why do monarchs always have to lead the way?
Is it only in this garden or is it every garden?
When I got closer I veered off.
Also intimidated.
I had never seen a blossom this lovely.
Categories:
sidle up, flower, garden,
Form: Free verse
Robins sing joyfully to the morning sun,
hidden behind the pale white summer flowers,
up in that old basswood tree out back
Splish splash splish
sounds of the sprinkler
water the now lush green grass
smells of freshly popped popcorn
fragrantly blow in the warm west wind
reminding me that today is the farmer's market.
I head on over and I'm instantly overwhelmed
by vibrant deep red vine-ripe tomatoes
an abundance of yellow and white bi-color corn
bright bushels of green sweet peepers,
(I'm definitely stuffing some tonight).
there are dark purple plums
Macintosh and Granny Smith apples
and my favorite,
delicious, mouth watering, succulent peaches.
That's when I see her
her long dark hazel hair
brushing her exposed smooth shoulder
standing right there
picking out that perfect peach
I sidle up and ask her how she knows
how she knows which one is ripe
she grabs my hand ( I nearly faint)
and shows me how to grip one
squeezing just right
not too soft
not to tight
flirting and exploring
laughing and enjoying
the first of many smiles
lasting throughout that night
Categories:
sidle up, love,
Form: Free verse
Side Order of Regret
by Odin Roark
Some walk the banks of rivers and shore,
Back alleys and deserted parks,
Seeking,
Or
Escaping.
Such are the questions of eyes pondering
The night people of one’s fantasies;
Those entities wiser perhaps
Than some are willing to enfold as reality.
Alone,
Stars and moonless nights
Engulf everyday tolerance,
Embellishing fear and question
With hunger for the un-illuminated.
The open-all-night neon engulfs.
The lost sidle up to decision’s banquet table.
Cold plates on the left.
Hot on the right.
All white.
All right.
The chef of dreams hovers
“Bet you remember 25 cent beer,
Pearl onions,
Pickles,
And the God-awful olives.
Well,
This ain’t a White Horse Bar,
So enjoy.
You earned it,
Even though
You acknowledge survival
As an unearned trophy.”
That’s how it might go.
Those who traverse Stygian gloom,
Happening upon their midnight-sun smörgåsbord diner,
Where alter ego
Finally stops,
Smells the coffee
And prepares to admit,
“Hold that side order of regret.
Having almost everything does just fine.”
Categories:
sidle up, success,
Form: Free verse