from the news
A tomato met a non-tuber plant
sweet music
a birth to what is known
as potatoes, these days also called fries
Just think if the tomato had not
been so unfaithful trying it on with
any passing plant
What would our diet be like
without the beloved spud
I read this in a paper that extols the free press
With the mild hand of exceptions
These days, the paper has fallen on hard times
and had sold out to real estate
not the two-up and one bathroom
houses in the millionaire class, after all
One has to show class
This morning, an article about jellyfish, that
In my youth, there were plentiful along the coast
of Norway, some of them stung
Now we have to go to the Outer Hebrides to
Find one in shallow pools
What I took away from the morning paper
was of potatoes, tomatoes, and the selling
of posh houses
When the tie dyes break out.
I try not to shout.
T-shirts, all my size.
How they turn out is a surprise.
Out in the yard.
Making a mess isn’t hard.
All sorts of splatter.
Patterns and colors that matter.
In the washing machine.
Awaits a treasure to be seen.
With hands still stained.
Fun patterns causing my eyes to be strained.
The brightness came out well.
Trying it on is swell.
The tie dye is all used.
But money in my account is ready to be abused.
To start the process again.
I will make shirts as gifts so we all win!
Certain she’s sleeping he slides out of bed
collecting his discarded clothing
quietly donning them
slipping away silently like a specter
cautiously opening and closing the door
hoping the hinges don’t squeak
the floorboards don’t creak
Slowly sauntering down the stairs
conscious of where his feet fall
for he dare not switch on the light
listening for the bell on the collar of the cat
she introduced him to
after inviting him inside like a vampire
who must be granted permission
to pass over one's threshold
Exiting out the back into the night
every word he’d said rendered a lie
each gesture of affection fake
a carefully crafted illusion
though for a few fleeting moments
he thought he might mean them this time
In the end she was only another shoe
he shoved his foot into trying it on for size
to see how it would feel
Arriving home before sunrise
he has a bourbon and soda from the bar
before retiring to his own empty bed
celebrating another successful escape
from anything real
I have stepped
into a shadow.
I am trying it on for size,
taking it in here,
letting it out there,
lifting the hem.
The task complete,
I smooth a crease,
adjust the lamp,
and flick some
leftover darkness
into a corner.
First published in Alba: A Journal of Short Poetry, Issue 35, Winter 2021
They kick God out of classrooms
And evil walks right in
Innocents are led to slaughter
Before their lives can even begin
Our jaws drop from the shock
We are appalled by such a crime,
But we voted for laws to kick god out
To usher in such times
I remember morning prayers in class
And a hymn or two we'd sing
We would join hands around the flagpole
A give thanks for the grace he brings.
This nation was founded on godly principals
And his blessings poured out each day
But we grew up trying it on our own
And look at the troubles that come our way.
You dont have to believe me
And keep turning your head away
But the proof is happening before our eyes
And gets worse each passing day
Theres now a number of innocent children,
Who are sitting before Gods throne
And hes wrapping his love around them
Because this world has let them go.
How much suffering must we endure
What will it take to make things right
We must allow God to rule our lives
Til evil is banished from our sight.
We can blame it on the monsters
Or some will curse God for what was done
But we should look real hard at our own direction
If this battle is truly to be won
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