The Botany Of Awe is inspiring,
wild in scent and with an intrepid hue.
All day and night with a mind inquiring,
petals should not be unnatural blue.
Buds germinate producing solid roots,
yet from the beginning they long to fly.
In no other dream are there substitutes,
euphoria leaves my heartbeat on high.
Images dropping right out of daydreams
every piece is colored and fits just right.
Pulling aspects from incredible schemes,
soft meadows sit neon in the moonlight.
Beaded stars and flowers full of comets,
magic feels about as good as it gets.
With two compasses,
I navigate the waters,
asking myself why
my friendship compass points North,
while my lovers piece points South.
To be authentic
is so very difficult.
Why do I accept
impostures and substitutes
in both myself and others?
After two marriages,
a lifetime of reflection,
alas, to be here,
admitting that I'm clueless,
or I'm just afraid of love.
Part One: What I Love
After seven decades I am satisfied
with the me I see, the inner self is beautified,
wounds of youth have healed well
and every scar to no longer dwell,
they were absorbed by tears I cried~
I write the words by which I tell
stories rich and maybe plied,
but absolutely bona fide!
Part Two: What I Regret
I admit I used to runaround,
party and carouse until I ran aground
against days-long blackouts
and poor decision fade-outs,
knowing my next stop was a grave mound~
Momma said the only way out
was for me to turnaround,
and become a sober devout.
Part Three: What I Hope
I have no grandiose plans for the future
because the future is unsure,
the present becomes my habitat
and I have no desire for idle chit chat,
time grows short, there is no cure
to stop death’s scat* whereat~
I will sing the words allure,
and dance upon the welcome mat.
* scat: singing jazz; the singer substitutes nonsense syllables for the words of the song and tries to sound like a musical instrument
To my Quarterback,
We are first round draft picks, starters, ready to get off the bench and begin a new season.
We have tackled many problems in our lives and in our previous relationships, but we will not penalize each other from what happened in the past. Yes, there were some fouls in our past, some incomplete passes and some unnecessary roughness, but we don’t have to put our guards up for defense. This time around, we both are on offense.
The difference this time is that God is our Coach.
Therefore, there will be no blocked kicks, no onside kicks, no running offside, no personal fouls, no pass interference and no substitutes.
You threw the perfect pass (your heart), and no one was around, which left me wide open to receive it. I caught it and secured it gracefully.
I wasn’t going to fumble this one. I ran it in and that day we scored a touchdown.
You sweetheart are indeed a perfect catch.
You and I together are now on our way to the Championship, for we are undefeated!
Love Always,
Your Wide Receiver
You are the pounding thunder in my chest,
Like a drum corps, with every word you speak.
And when I see your smile, there is true rest
And when my eyes meet yours, my knees grow weak.
There is a missing piece in every soul
Filled only by that one, sublimest love.
There are no substitutes to fill this hole
Only you, hold the place I ‘ve oft dreamt of.
Come to me beloved, entwine our hearts!
Be forever near me, spin close beside
And sew a lifetime tether from the start
That shall not fray, divinely stitched inside.
Let us live a tight-knit life, full of awe;
A three-cord bond of you and me and God.
I thought to bring you
a rose...but roses, short lived
dry, and fall petally away --
I thought to bring you a
manufactured heart: made of
chocolate or silk
but substitutes for you
have always been wrong
from the start
so, I showed up empty handed
and the dog and cat
tore me apart....
If you’re older and somehow not dying,
Yet live with dementia or worse,
Prepare to be hit with some lying
Before your last ride in a hearse.
This strategy’s gaining approval
As nursing homes struggle to cope
With patients whose memory removal
Deprives them of reasons to hope.
So little white lies are suggested
Like, “Your husband will visit real soon”
Since the truth often can’t be digested
And no time will be quite opportune.
Or, “Let’s visit the nursery; maybe
You’ll help rock your child to sleep,”
Where a doll substitutes for the baby
Which remains where the memories keep.
If deception brings comfort, I wonder
Why, to me, it just doesn’t feel right
Reaching into one’s psyche to plunder
What the mind has kept tucked out of sight.
Cacoethes as infatuation
visited me mostly in my youth.
Those deep yearnings fed my soul
with the lyrics of melancholy love songs
that revolved on my record player’s
turntable as I, in my callow days,
lay in bed drowning in my fantasies
of unobtainable desires.
Cacoethes as cravings
found me also as the obsessions
that were literally fed me as food.
Too easily was I led
by edible longings -
but I was not feeding real hunger.
Rather – I was hungering
to feed an empty heart.
Eventually I learned to control
my cravings for the sweet and the salty,
and old longings of infatuation
long ago fled from me.
Any void I feel today
I fill with cacoethe substitutes
mostly harmless and rarely unhealthful
as I move my pen again and again
over paper.
Whether whiskey or water
What should it matter
The point is we oughta
be toasting each other
Though the East is a Beast
and the West is unblessed …
May we this year refrain
from inflicting such pain
Turn to gentler pursuits
find for war substitutes
Forget complicated spells,
That require obscure ingredients,
That have no safe substitutes,
When a pair of helping hands,
That can magically halve the workload,
That can massage away the meanest headache.
And a set of listening airs,
That can hear what is unsaid,
That can pick up the slightest note of harmony.
And a voice that speaks volumes,
That is low in decibels,
That speaks from the heart,
Are the only three ingredients,
That are needed to create a spell to remember,
That leaves no sticky residues,
And can be easily brought together at short notice.
Our playgrounds have faded
swings stilled, sandboxes unfilled
Where are the shovels and pails ~
replaced by profits and sales
There’s no substitute for life.
I find myself,
seduced by yearnings.
I’m flourishing here,
contemplating sin.
I’ve nothing to do
when I’ve nothing but time.
I’m reusing solitudes -
they’ve become ragged.
What’s the answer then?
Should I seal my girly heart,
engage in uncaring kisses
like it’s ‘casual friday’ -
connive brief excitements
- just to feel a pulse?
Gone are days of eyeball contact
When we used to meet in person
A warm embrace and a handshake
Laughter and light conversation
Now our sanity is at stake
Inundated with messages
Good mornings and words of wisdom
Methinks people are now lazy
Having nothing better to do
I confess it drives me crazy
Blinking substitutes not thinking
Whilst expressing our heart’s emote
Or while playing a game of chess
Originality’s passe
So I guess we’ll make do with less
RECOGNITIONS
simple
memoranda
of
an
appreciation
of
the
acknowledged
single mindedness
so
evident
in
self conscious
realizations
& detailed
exressions
of
understanding
eyecatching
motifs
disintegrate
elegant
vulnerable
&
numerous
sensitive
substitutes
the
influential
comment
to
illuminate
a
reposte
yet
so
inadequate
The holiday’s at sunset
So the afternoon before
Is time for eating food
We won’t be eating anymore.
No bread or beer or pasta -
Not a bagel for a week!
I’ve been doing this since childhood,
So there’ll be no need to sneak.
It’s bizarre - I’m not religious
But tradition reigns supreme
And restricting what you eat is not
As hard as it might seem.
Of course, we use some substitutes
For cooking and to bake
And there are lots of recipes
For foods that we can make.
Tonight there will be matzoh balls
In soup to start our feast,
With 8 more days of special meals
Until we are released.
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