I did not sing today.
I walked long,
But there was no song
As I went about my way.
I did not talk today.
There was no friend
With smile to lend
And kind thought steered my way.
I did not write today.
I thought long and hard,
But there was no card
No parchment held its sway.
I did not laugh today.
Save a wry response
To a random thought
On my wandering pondering way.
I did not sup this eve.
No bounteous grace
No warm embrace
No consort at my sleeve.
But I count the day not lost
For the careworn and the cost.
For the steps on every journey
Be they light or weight uncertain
Must be taken...
Lest they bring the final curtain to the Day.
llama arrives in the tea room all polished and puffed up
putting on airs, as if she is almost too chic to dine or sup
persnickety, pampered, and proud of her new sophisticated look.
She looks like she has just written an uppity etiquette book.
We try to ignore her, maybe she can find another table in which to dine.
Scoot over, says my empathetic cousin. I roll my eyes and say “fine.”
Llama is batting her fake eyelashes and flashing her high heel shoes.
I pointedly do not speak to her until I remember she owes us dues
Lucifer rebels, war ensues
Igniting evil’s deadly fuse.
Evil assails, Michael prevails
Satan’s revolt in heaven fails.
Cast down to earth, and filled with rage
His war with God, on man he’ll wage.
The rebel heart that his being filled
In human hearts he will instill.
Mission achieved by cunning ruse
Igniting evil’s deadly fuse.
Paradise lost, from Eden tossed
Death is the price man’s sin did cost.
Sin like a cancer suffused man’s mind
Evil blossomed, of every kind.
Wickedness so ruined God’s plan
That He was sorry He made man.
At the right time, God sent His Son
On Easter’s morn, the fight was won.
Lucifer’s reign was dealt a blow
God’s love for man was now on show.
The reign of sin will one day end
When God again, His Son will send.
This time to judge the quick and dead
And destroy sinners and their Head.
God’s fire will burn the wicked up
They spurned His bid with them to sup.
In place of sin, God’s love will reign
Eternal life His saints will gain.
Too much is enough when one is full up
Had plenty to eat and plenty to sup
When feeling bloated
Tummy’s explosive
Cough loud and say sorry for the hiccup.
If by chance you should have become legless
Aim for the best, to not feeling reckless
It's not ladylike
A sure fated vice
You may find that you have become feckless.
up the hill
so I can see you
tootle-ha
and wielding
your smile from dawn to twilight
waving tootle-loo
in valley
I can touch your flesh
eat you up
with you sup
my buttercup of moonshine
no need to move lips
in your arms
can hear chest beating
and the roar
of the sea
as your lips slip between shells
and the sun melts me
up on top
you look down at me
I’m the town
we’re grounded
you are the undying wind
of love’s moan and sigh
I am lost in a desert without love
and I'm hoping for a sign from above.
Oh, to be saved by a refreshing sup
of clear water from a cool loving cup,
but my chances look despairing and dire,
and soon Lord, I believe I will expire.
In front of me, I see an oasis,
but do my eyes deceive without basis?
Will its love be my long-lost salvation
or just my naive imagination?
Chad, a lopsided bird had a shoulder that popped up
The other one held him down when he went to sup
Why am I so asymmetrical? He asked his birdy daddy.
No idea, his dad said. Want to be my caddy?
His dad was a golfer, and symmetrical too.
His mother was teensy lopsided, her name was Lu.
His sister was symmetrical like their dad.
I guess I could carry your clubs, said lopsided Chad.
box store drills were eighty dollars and up
we stopped and priced them on our way to sup
Guess I will order one on Amazon, husband finally said
We got one for fifty, and she is pretty – pink and red.
In the Mouth of Desire
touching me
your lips, your tongue
chalice
filled with sweet fruit
we’re no longer friends
when we sup
lovers
once again
we can’t
get enough
sucking grapes
nibbling red apples
tender, the nape of neck
at
eureka’s urging
Hot coffee
black coffee
really has the means
when I sup but half a cup
to make me feel
quite full of beans
only one requirement tho'
no decaf if you please
and altho' born in Kenya
where the coffee grows
why it's called
'a cup of Joe'
I'm sure I do not know
but
hot coffee
black coffee
is the best ammo
when I do a mug or two
to give me the right
get up and go
Tho' right-handed
instruments the two do play
yet one is downside up
left-handed musicians both are they
or seem to sup
from a similar southpaw cup
and if you follow the trail of crumbs
they lead to Jimi
the Starr of guitar
and stick to Ringo
the Hendrix of drums
Fog over the inlet
until water and air waltz together.
colds ears muffled by the dank air.
Grebes and Coots colonize this tributary.
The ocean is close
you can feel the tidal pull of it
the immensity of it,
even through the thick haze
it seems to tug at my small boat.
I hear now, the distant screaking
of coastal gulls.
Trawling fingers in the dark water
mellifluent coils pluck and pull.
Later, sitting in the cabin
I wonder why I did not push
further out from the estuary
advancing towards
the deep sound of the breakers.
I yawn, sup some hot tea from a mug,
smile,
comfortable,
that's the reason -
way too comfortable.
Early mornin dew dripp'd flower
Rosy Red awaits the hour
Lifts her bloom and greets the day
To sup the misty mornin rays
She fawns upon the golden hue
Swaddled in the mantled blue
Till sunny orb quits daytime skies
To veil its face from longing eyes
So Rosy Red doth nod her bloom
And bide her time in shadowed gloom
To dream the dreams that only may
Wish anew the break of day
The Spanish with whom I sup
asked me, so I did:
“eat sea beasties – look it up!”
Chocos, yes, there are,
and there’s calamar:
los del mar?
Squid.
No man can ever understand,
There's Spring Cleaning across this land,
Miss Mop and Clean waves her hand,
Snoring is his male band,
Not to worry, no time to sup,
Gals want to sparkle up,
One shelf at a time,
Spray and Wipe sublime,
Fresh is the cupboard smell,
Charity bags cast their spell,
All tidy now, so it seems,
Polished the dog, he gleams,
Must detox this brain,
Wasting thoughts quite inane,
Declutter world still revolving,
Spring Cleaning is evolving!
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