In the mornings, building staff,
Equipped with long green hoses,
Wash sidewalks down, attentive to
What lurks beneath their noses.
Most often, it’s what’s left behind
By dogs which poo or piddle,
With owners who, despite the law,
Obey it very little.
Though yesterday, a homeless man
Sprawled on the sidewalk, sleeping.
Though he was dry, surrounding him,
Was proof of clean-up keeping.
Aside from where he lay, the street
Was wet from recent hosing,
A kindness from the worker,
Or at least what I’m supposing.
I’ve sometimes gotten spritzed a bit,
An accidental spraying,
But I was touched to see this dose
Of empathy displaying.
ebony skunk waddled through our dog door yesterday afternoon
don’t worry said husband, he will probably leave very soon
instead, he invited in guests, two monkeys and a baboon
they decided to stay with us during the latest monsoon
the dogs did not care for the skunk, chased him up the hallway
he gave me a grin, that said “don’t worry, I will fix this right away”.
I knew what It meant and dove under a dresser where I planned to stay.
My husband was looking for cover too, along with our neighbor May.
Skunk spritzed them with an aroma that made my face turn blue.
no worries. I needed a tomato bath, it was long overdue.
the monkeys and baboon were in the kitchen eating crackers at two.
they were stale, but who cares? I wanted to get away from this zoo.
A woodpecker pecked on our siding
And likely, won’t listen to chiding.
He left a few holes
Beyond our controls
In a place where we’re partly residing.
An expert came by for assessing
The damage where Woody’d been messing.
He spritzed with a spray
But could not really say
Why he’d pecked there, without simply guessing.
Our house by huge trees is surrounded,
So I am completely confounded
As to why all that wood
Wouldn’t seem just as good
As the siding on which he had pounded.
The tinted walls’ filled with paintings -
Max, Bull, Fanch, Chen and Noah.
The mantel, shelves, tabletops cleared
to be lemon-dusted and windex-spritzed.
Company’s coming. Lots to be done.
Blinds brushed, windows squeegeed,
cobwebs cleared, Blue-teal rug vacuumed -
prepare for our grandsons’ two week visit.
The saddest task - relinquishing my books.
Of course the boys are all worth it. Home
will be filled with laughter, arguing, tablets,
wrestling, rewards, cooking, two more boys.
Four grandsons and grandma against the world.
In my midst a sea chief, defender of mankind,
strength of God and then there’s “fifth.” These
are the boys to men that surround me - proud.
Company’s coming, not rest, nor peace nor quiet.
The floors, walls, doors, sheets, pots and pans
will be amused and explored. TV and tablets,
feet out the door - to parks, golf, church and more.
6/6/2022
Translucent turquoise tide pools
soft shimmer on the sand,
mirrors for vain seagulls,
bathtubs for crusty crabs.
The tide slap lapping on the beach,
cavorting up and down the shore
with sounds of gentle laughter
mixing tumbling rocks and broken shells.
Adrift along a fantasy,
stretched out upon the sand;
my mind a merry fishhook
baiting dreams like fishermen.
Above, the sky’s bright powder puff
has rouged my cheeks like shells,
spritzed freckles across my nose,
brown spray amid the swells.
Days like these cannot be bought
nor pursued as treasured store;
you stumble on them, mindlessly,
whether rich or whether poor.
A gift to lift your hefty load,
from life’s harsh grind, reprieve;
lay back, let salt sea breezes blow
and feel your stress unwind.
Copyright, May 1, 2022
Each year she went through a ritual
preparing for his big night
she had been given strict orders as to how
to ignite his passions just right
the perfume was spritzed soft and light
the negligee warn low and tight
but this year when the knock arrived at the door
indicating his arrival ,
she sang, "Good times are a " comin "
until she heard a big thump,
he died, just before his big hump.
Yearlong, we have waited,
yearning for vacation,
yet like nomads we dwell,
yon from city life, spritzed
yellow frisking through firs,
yielding to swift trail bends,
young, sleeping in bunkbeds.
6-13-2021
Y Plieades
A deep resigned sigh, was felt throughout the aquamarine sky
When Raw Purity Faerie finally sat down for the evening,
Releasing sprinkled twinkles of magic, into the never-land of souls
Of her forest trees and buddies. She did not know when to say no.
Owl and fox gathered other mystical forest creatures, to barricade
The paths in, and the paths up, so she could have a bit of peace.
She had been working full out for six days straight, even Luna
Was sad to see her retain her awake self. She needed to rejuvenate.
Raw Purity Faerie planned to rest but a minute; there were so many
Who counted on her, as she was the savior of the forest creatures
Sandman instantly spritzed her eyelids, and she was in another realm
Where other faeries rallied around and nurtured her. It was bliss.
Little yellow bottle,
Yield to me your fumes,
Speak of my triumphs,
My failures,
My joy,
My sorrow.
Speak of the man
I once hoped to woo;
Speak of sleepless nights
Spent buried under a million quilts,
My face shoved into
A pillow spritzed
With the soft scent of your perfume.
Speak of me,
Of my wrists and my chest,
Of my hair and my thighs.
Speak of every goddamned thing
I did to hide myself
When vanilla just made me
Into a scented whore.
Her man was woven into love spell
By another woman, not of her smell.
Bewitchery, she will not tolerate
To the perfumery she’ll calculate.
Apothecary had the perfect answer
An exotic earthy whiff from vetiver!
Happy she was her man found her erotic -
But, alas, it was only episodic!
She spritzed the air with essence of rose petal -
Then a reminiscence of the betrayal!
Love and romance the attar generated
Very soon enough it evaporated.
Memorable scent of basil she wore next,
Pleasurable things her man not to forget,
In vain, it was she who cannot forget -
In her mind fresh the err her man had make,
Scent of her rival made her green with envy,
Scent of betrayal made her very angry,
Desperate but hopeful, she went to a lone edifice;
Temperate and humble, the scent of water brought her peace.
7/14/14
My husband tried to kill the germs
That lurk within our space.
He bought a spray-top Lysol and
He spritzed around the place.
Now germs are rather clever things –
Invisible and sly;
You never know exactly where
Their tiny bodies lie.
They like to float up in the air
And cling to walls and sinks.
I have no faith a spray will work,
Despite what Lysol thinks.
The label shouts out loud and clear
That ninety-nine percent
Of virus and bacteria
Will leave – that’s the intent.
But what about the germs that hide,
Avoiding all that mist?
And yes, there is that one percent
That’s likely to resist.
There’s really not much you can do
When germs invade your nest –
Drink fluids, wash your hands and yes –
Get lots and lots of rest.
As far as Lysol, what the heck,
It doesn’t hurt to spray.
Perhaps it will convince some germs
It’s time they went away.
I went to the beach
For my vitamin sea
To drink in the zing
Of an orange setting sun
As it spritzed liquid gold
Onto zesty shimmering sand
© Brenda V northeast 6th January 2012
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