Hypersonic
Flight school embrace divison.
Day dreaming night vision.
Junior choir boss falling.
Question the rain.
Rays ascending.
Optimistic.
Rivers of joy from my buddy.
He is the mystic.
Wanting jade blades to make the snow bleed.
Under moon and stars I miss my best friend Jesus.
He appears in my dreams.
Anna returns Tuesdays or Wednesdays
Yearning to connect with my best friend Jesus.
Yeshua meets me in my dreams he is with me every second though people never know it.
Dream walker, day sustainer, machine maker.
Every day simple every lounging
Street walking memory explorer
Wavy chips doom avowed dragons aging star fields engaging.
Mondays are always blue
Tuesdays proved to be so too
never can find a way
to make it safely through
Wednesdays came and they went
now all the money's spent
yet wouldn't you know
it never even made a dent
Thursdays became a bust
and Fridays I just can't trust
they always let me down
leave me in the dust
Saturdays are shadow play
what more can I say
the less said the better
best forgotten anyway
but Sunday I look forward to
it's my day of rest
my salvation too
the one I love the best
tho' twenty-four seven's
OK for some
I'll get by
with twenty-four one
The merry widow’s marvelous mincemeat melody
Was gradually heard around three by the old oak tree
Honestly said Bert, the bumblebee, is this the Grand Prix?
Miraculously, there was a royal red revelry
A chickadee landed on the right knee of Diana Dee
Making her a friend in furious practicality
Old oak tree receded into the loving forest canopy
Forming a deliberate, desired universal solid symmetry
Would you like a chewy chickpea Lee asked widow and me.
I heard hyena-like laughter from Leroy, the red-butted monkey
Rolling them in warm tortillas is the chef’s secret recipe
Flamboyant frog huffed away, jingling her copper jewelry
The rest of us stared, which we do on Wednesdays, habitually
Being yourself and making no apology is the key said monkey
The faeries made themselves tinier, they were in fact now wee
Lovely monorhyme in progress, guessed my observant cousin Vee
I must agree said my boss, the pompous persnickety Mr. McGee
The rhymes are rather delightful, and frankly, there are plenty.
Diane’s dog Charlie is her baby; more than her son ever was.
He likes me better than Stewart did too, she tells me.
Charlie’s therapy appointments are on Monday.
On Tuesdays he has his nails groomed or his teeth flossed.
Wednesdays are open for luncheon engagements with other pups.
He gives me a break on Thursdays, Diane tells us. It’s my free day.
Friday’s are for Charlie’s aerobic and line dancing.
Saturdays he has yoga.
What’s Charlie’s Sunday schedule? I ask her.
Diane looks surprised that I asked.
We go to church in color-coordinated clothing.
I take him in a little matching case.
I should have guessed.
The things I paid for…
Like the feeling of swinging on my swingset.
It only cost a dandelion.
With seeds so harmless.
I was in high school.
I could have been happy.
If I played baseball, I would run from base to base.
But I prefer home.
I could have finished that essay.
But they say Wednesdays are a time for rest.
I still managed to graduate high school.
These days, I don't think I’d be able to tell you how.
I remember driving for the first time.
The tank was full.
Art class would have been 200 dollars.
If I had taken them.
If someone offered to pay for my vacation?
I would say it was too late.
At 25, there’s nothing that will help depression.
I’ll sit on the couch, trying to break even.
I think that kid in third grade still owes me five dollars.
I get mad about those things sometimes.
The things I paid for.
Mean nothing.
Will you love me when I’m old
Even if I’m not as pretty or bold
Despite dementia will you still trust
Never mind December warm is our love
Engage me with your ebony eyes
Sauté my heart with red hot replies
Doting you are my red satin valentine
Amethyst is the art you paint in my mind
You are seasoned sexy smart and kind
Stay as you are chocolate lover of mine
every wednesday i think of you
first it was the day we hung out
the genuine love we shared
how it all felt so real
when you held me in your arms and kissed my forehead
the second was when you vanished
you were forced to leave
it wasn’t what you want, we both know that
but you’re supposed to
the third was the day when i broke
because of you my heart is shattered
i can’t get out of bed because of what you did
now i’ll stay stuck on wednesday because we can’t be
i hope in the future, i’ll die on a wednesday
so that in my head and in my heart and in the ground, we’ll be together finally
Sit-upons that we wove together.
The troop activity. How many spots
will remember me?
The wicker basket and picnic blanket
woven into the amphitheatre. We,
my hubby and I,
cozied up, listened to Amy Grant.
My towel, with the Caribbean islands,
sinking in the warm sand, waiting
for my salt-sea body to rest.
My familiar easy chair,
the grandkids are always
welcome to share.
The pews that retain glory and praise
on Sundays and Wednesdays.
The split-level stairs,
carpeted teal,
where I oft sit and watch
somersaults
and converse with a houseful.
There are the horses,
that lent their backs,
brought me to greater heights -
walked me on the Cozumel beach,
‘round Yukon’s emerald lake,
and one that wanted to dive off a cliff,
“whoa…no!” I took control.
On my childhood bed,
so close to my sister-cousin.
We laughed and shared -
now it's only in my memory.
The yellow bus, -
my hopes and dreams were sown
within its polyester seats.
So many places where I sat,
brimming above or below the surface.
So many places we stay and go.
We squat, recline, attack.
Went on a little vacation
And plans we had proposed
We couldn’t do because
On certain days, some things were closed.
On Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays
Many restaurants and stores,
Plus museums. shows and galleries
Posted signs upon their doors.
Please stop by again on Thursday
Or the weekend; we’ll be here!
Were they short-staffed? I’m not certain
But to us, it was quite clear
That some businesses don’t need to wait
For customers to show
And perhaps on early weekdays
We’re not welcome; good to know.
I'm sending some angel glow
Cause I want some light to flow
On your day and make it shine
So your Wednesdays really fine
They were stopping everyone;
made us answer their questionnaires.
We were told that there were
no right or wrong answers,
but weeks later - a letter.
Apparently the socially correct
had a beef with me.
A ham sandwich had recently been indicted
and jailed.
One of the questions I replied to
smelled slightly off,
seditious salami flavored sins
had been detected.
A tuna casserole had declared independence
from rainy Wednesdays.
Now the fridge is being audited,
there's something fishy in the air,
and the cops are hiding in my rose bushes
taking recipe notes.
I have complained to Yelp.
My mother went door to door on a daily basis
Collecting money for Mr. Sim’s wife’s funeral flowers
or for a present for Tad and Betty’s newborn baby girl
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother hung her clothes out on a line
Where they turned stiff as a desktop in the wind
The other neighbor ladies ran out at the same time to talk to her
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother baked pies, cakes and cookies in the morning.
In summer she gardened– snapping peas and shucking corn.
In winter she brought out the watermelon jelly she made in summer
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother gave her time to the church on Wednesdays and Sundays
She was one of four ladies in charge of all of the funeral dinners
Because no one else would step up and do it like they would
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother was the quintessential volunteer.
She was our room mother every year at school.
Because if I did not volunteer her, my identical twin would.
I hope I will volunteer time and talents like my mother always did.
In the morning, putting on pants, its gangling legs
become entangled with mine.
It has thrown pillows on the floor again.
It has made a permanent dent in the recliner seat.
Leafing through notebooks of old poems,
I find more evidence of its hand sabotaging my life.
It stalks me in Target like a thrifty wife,
while my thrifty wife controls it with remote eyes.
It is older than me, fatter and less agile.
It sends ornaments crashing to the floor as I pass.
On rainy Wednesdays it will shrink itself
into a small hump-backed mood.
Tonight I suspect it will drink too much.
Yesterday evening it trod on my spectacles.
It will be sorry tomorrow morning,
but I am done with all of its excuses.
On the Other Side
David J Walker
Incantations dealt
Beneath a silent breath
Claiming life
Dealing death
Subscribe to unseen
Magazines
Opened only at the first
Stroke of Wednesdays midnight
Antidotes offered at
First light
Work on faith and faith alone
Tell me when we are home
And I will open my eyes again
On the other side
of course there are absurd mornings
for example this one where the rain gives in
the sun shines displayed
and it's almost may
can i keep the weapons
collect the traps
is the security of solid wednesdays
I already knew that we would be saved
when the mall next door closed
but my old neighbor is still bloodthirsty
insulting the janitor
there is something proverbial with these two
a cruel clash between generations
as for me, I stopped being a rebel
I don't press all the elevator buttons anymore
now I almost separate the dry waste from the organic
I greet everyone falsely
and with the guide half loose
I walk my fierce dog.
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