Sunday, June 16, 2019

the rose

watch it everyday,
summer on the way.
sweet rose on the vine,
flower so divine.


i remember the dive
we called the canon ball.
off the pier we'd go.
yelling all the way down.
what summers were for.
one of us made the greatest splash.
yeah, we had fun in competition

Saturday, June 15, 2019

water down

got up, made my bed, 
showered soapy, water, rinse.
as i parted my head, my hair in the middle,
over my shoulder the electronic calendar read,
clearly a synthetic voice said: "congratulations,
you've made it to another Saturday;
coincidentally, a free rolling weekend,
absolute-mentally disengaged,
with liberty and justice for many,
and ten straight days of rain forecast." What?
"with no humps or little boats in the stream;
thought it best to get it out of the way and tell you clean,
going to rain, keep raining. rain some more.
which size oars do you wish?
for sure keep going and
float to the right."

Friday, June 14, 2019


flows the creek in constant motion,
smooth ripples ferry to the ocean

Thursday, June 13, 2019

seconds before sundown

river gulls soar toward the lake
crossing low overhead as last low rays
flash white bellies and orange beaks
golden in the final light of setting sun.

the picture in these words nab the blink and sheen
of a few seconds gliding, brilliant light,
gleam like polished steel, fencers thrusting
before the background, sorrowful autumn gray sky.

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

door broke

had breakfast at our usual place out in the country.
sat way up front, few people there.
i went to the restroom, then couldn't get out.
the door knob wouldn't open the door.
after thinking two minutes i
knocked on the door six or eight times,
a waitress heard me knocking and let me out.
she said she just happened by,
i said she should tell someone the door is broken.
i don't think she thought about it again.
back at our table, finished my coffee,

ten minutes passed, i was watching,
no one went to the restroom.
we paid our bill and left.
as we were a few miles down the road i wondered

who's trapped in there now?


Went to the country, had eggs and toast, then gravy on potatoes..too much and ate most of it. Sometimes...yeah, well sometimes I don't follow my good intentions.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

June sun

outside the country store few sounds this morning,  a car, a shopper, distant birds, chickens. the slight metal rattle when a guy goes by on his bicycle, he smiles and waves as he passes. not much else going on; good June sun heating still air, been enough rain lately, fields are green. smells of summer all over.

the above is modern formatting, below my traditional beat poetry method. am i going into a period of change.  i'm not sure if that is a question.

outside the country store
few sounds this morning,
a car, a shopper,
distant birds, chickens.
the slight metal rattle when 
a guy goes by on his bicycle, 
he smiles and waves as he passes.
not much else going on;
good June sun heating still air,
been enough rain lately, fields are green,
smells of summer all over. 

Monday, June 10, 2019

cash in

call the talk show woman Ellen.
i need a right turn in my life.
the point is: my blog
hasn't made me a fortune.
but, wait a minute; hold it right there.
keep your hands where i can see 'em.
you see, my blog costs nothing,
and got me here, technically speaking.
is easy to operate,
quite fascinating:
so you want to buy my blog?
only one drawback...
got my teeth in it,
don't know if i can let go, sweetheart..

Sunday, June 09, 2019

a song of it

ask around a while, you'll see,
not completely, but often;
June slides in as the favorite.
i'm thinking good weather 
after the months waiting to get here.
relax in that chair, the one you know and love.
coffee is ready, or take the tea.
sugar or no, as you prefer.
that's clouds rolling in.
and your father,
talking water here, i like water...
a dip in the pool, some rain or the ocean,
float along. find the melody,
make a song of it.
soft and yeah, a song you feel.
words you need, when you desire.
soft and yeah.
from the heart.

Saturday, June 08, 2019

apples near the wall

seven years ago she planted,
had an idea, bought them young 
from Mark the plant seller.
put in two apple trees,
twigs they were.
near the wall.
a good idea. espalier.
beautiful from the beginning.
how time evolves.
seasons roll through.
the one on the left produces apples,
the other does not,
she trims them
attempts to get the other to bloom.
will time change this

blur brings mail

our female mail person is
shorter than yours;
head down walking,
moves along in a flash,
zipping by.
i've yelled hello when she put mail in our box,
she never acknowledges me.
maybe her ears are plugged into something.
an unabridged version of Moby Dick?
or hot music?
i'll never know.
she never sees me when i wave
won't leave her cookies this Christmas
like the old days.
instead i'll tape a note on the mail box:
"the whale kills Ahab."
not true, i wrote something silly,
i think we're on the end of the mail route.
the mail person wants to
finish work, go home,
listen to music, read a book.

Thursday, June 06, 2019


my grandaughter, Kaylan, wraps
high school; cap and gown.
now, to encounter the world.

Wednesday, June 05, 2019

Dog's a bother

my daughter's dog weighs
as much as i do,
nearly, and has big feet.
he stepped on my arm,
punctured it.
he jumps around and is happy.
i like the dog, but now avoid him.
he stayed home when
i ate pasta in an italian restaurent
last night.
melanzana, ricota salata like, dry cheese
and rigatoni alla norma.
this morning i ate it cold.
a dream like breakfast.
It will be sunny and warm.
this is temecula,
southern california.
many people, i can say that again.
not especially easy going.
i bet even the menonites
walk around
with an edge on.

Monday, June 03, 2019

been water

been sky
water falling regularly,
wet mornings we've seen.
sleep through the most of it.
downpours, shake the roof, that sort.

then pauses we'd have;
some days none.
none pauses. kept raining.

factually speaking,
we haven't seen a regular month,
kind we had and knew before
for a bit, for  a country while.
that's truth of the matter.
don't know if records broke,
but sounds like i got impressed.
did enough...yup.

Sunday, June 02, 2019

like a bomb

rapid expansion of the air
surrounding the lightening bolt at
1:43 this morning caused thunder
to echo a full minute as it continued the
sound on to Michigan or Pennsylvania.
i awoke a minute before,
had my senses when the explosion occurred.
vibrated the town,
sounded like a bomb.
an incredible boom.

Saturday, June 01, 2019

rifle me up some breakfast

the piano stumbled to a halt like a fallen horse.
the room got quiet.
she walked over, pad and pen ready,
with a lift of her eye
shot me the glance
i didn't pause, i let her have it:
2 up, rye toast;
i sat still, mouth closed after that.
she asked, no potatoes, bacon or pie?
i held the reins tight, my coach on course.
coffee me, please.
"What about fresh, smoking, cherry pie
warm out of the oven?"
she gave me that smile she was known for,
and nodded.
"not today, Mandy. as curly your hair,
as bright is your smile,
i'm holding...i'll play these, thank you."
and the piano started up again,
chatter all over, plates clinked,
chairs squeaked and movement
burst out everywhere.

Friday, May 31, 2019

hospital lobby

in the lobby i met another jack,
a hospital volunteer, he began talking to me;
explained, because he hit his head
and can't remember names, his wife left him.
i told Jack he'd probably remember my name.
(i wanted him to feel better so i didn't tell him
he probably wouldn't remember my face.)
every few minutes he told me about banging his head
while having fun playing the Rascals and the Turtles on his phone.
i wanted to read my book but he
held the music coming out of his phoneclose to my face.
i pulled back to focus my eyes on the phone,
but he said there was nothing to read on the phone.
i had to listen to the music.
he asked if i liked the rascals and the turtles
and i said "i think i did fifty years ago,  i don't remember."
Jack said they are his favorite groups.
they still are.
he saw them in concert.

only three of us were in the lobby.
a thin, slight, 20 year old roofer
moved closer to us to be nearer the festivities.
he wore old, worn, jeans,
no socks or shoes.
i first noticed him because he had, "no shirt?"
said he "got soaked."
a half-hour before it rained a storm's worth in five minutes.
i told him we were both named jack and asked his name,
i don't remember his name,
maybe the other jack does.
i asked why he's in hospital.
said, "a lump on my knee is getting larger...
insurance expires in two days."

Thursday, May 30, 2019

seasonal winds

500 reports of tornadoes in the last thirty days in the U.S.
i hope my Kansas family ducked trouble.
yesterday Ohio had 4 tornadoes...
we've 64 to 75 Fahrenheit cool.
another thing: i have to look up
how to spell Fahrenheit every time.
it is the practically silent first h i forget about.
now the more i say it, it louder it gets.
Fah-ren-heit. Fah, Fah, Fahrenheit.
still cool, talking weather,
running out of May.
run, run, running is no problem, uh spelling.
also, summer will get here, just saying.
and, think two h's in Fahrenheit.

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

tension for the fans

a cold rainy night
went to bed early
heard in the morning
indians squeezed by boston

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

broken protocol

trains, as i've previously mentioned,
sound off when passing  through our town:
the sequence you hear is a
long, long, short long.
i've heard the train go by all my life,
today six shorts, a pause, 2 shorts
reviving the old time: shave and a haircut, two bits.
someone thought this funny,
a celebration of Memorial Day;
an offense to train protocol.
never heard it before,
hope i never do again.
i'm serious about trains.

Monday, May 27, 2019

a coffee aday

when i today sure searched finding
how coffee from drinking
is positine or negathon.
then reviewed my life and pal coffee,
to sit and have a cup.
to know by remembering seemed better than google,
as amn't in the state of complete burn out
from too much coffee, for sure.
get ready for this.
for can find not finding
no coffee they say,
no sleep, harm, harming
no cream so that's an okay.
no fat here, just a buzz;
knock yourself out.

Sunday, May 26, 2019


oh, coffee, please yes, starting with coffee.
thank you. nice to see you.
is this seat taken? well, heh heh,
yes, i'm sitting here.
you're my what?
i mean, no kidding...
sure i do.
that's right. i wouldn't forget.
you've got that look about you.
say, while we're talking,
you know i received emails about new books,
you know how many?
right, nod your head, mega plenty. plentissimo.
titles more than i can handle
coffee i can handle, you were ready weren't you.
thank you.
sure i know you.

rhythm and rhyme
poems take time.
no doubt, take them out,
shake 'em like a rug.
until they shine.
going to make it mine,
before i give it away.

Friday, May 24, 2019

if cows could talk to me

if cows could talk to me
that would be interesting;
don't have one,
haven't seen one face to face for a while
just thinking of the eyes,
one large eye on each side
big and brown. looking,
nearly thinking of something, the cow.
calm, for the most part.
depends, mostly.
apparently content.

began my day

began my day
knee deep in Facebook,
to see who is doing what hey?
what do you say, go out to eat?
she give the nod.
then off to our favorite haunt.
roads away.

we glide into place.
full of quiet talk.
it's humming,
plates, forks and coffee pouring.
steaming hungry, you'd think so
by the way i order breakfast;
double fisted all is resolved.
pancakes in syrup and butter.

to home going when passing
a field of yellow flowers,
pointing says she to look.
a blur we go by.
feeling fresh morning it's the coffee i remember.

I have done to satisfaction when taken to a point near confusion. Did you manage?

Thursday, May 23, 2019

until then

in a while i'll close my eyes,
until then
tell me again...
so in my room late at night

with the window open...
trains passing in the distance,
i hear the music from nearby homes
alive on summer nights,

voices of people and their melodies
come to me over fields,

i'll think of nights that could be magic;
and with music playing fall asleep.

Annie said...
In the quiet of the night, every sound is memorable, and something about the cadence and imagery of your poem is both melancholy and peaceful at the same time. Wishing you magic.
from Monday, July 09, 2012

Monday, May 20, 2019

chase gave

we rolled out yesterday
to see our young friend;
Chase Castle, with a recent bachelor degree
in keyboard performance from Baldwin Wallace,
soon to work on a doctor of philosophy,
has given concerts in eleven states.
last night played organ concert at
St. Peter Lutheran Church, Norwalk, Ohio.
76 people were in audience.
didn't punch tickets, the number in the crowd
is my guess; one young couple among elders.
chase played the keyboard in the balcony.
all watched on jumbotron.
as he reeled off an hour of solemn songs.
one sing along had the crowd metaphorically
eating out of his hands.
at the finale all applauded heartily. i never heard cheering
in a church before, but all in attendance were ready.

Sunday, May 19, 2019

eyebrows are

eyebrows are so
you can look startled
curious, interested,
or angry.

eyelids are for winking
and closing out light
the part of the night
when you're sleeping.

crying is for babies
and feeling better, after.

From July 2016. 

Saturday, May 18, 2019

donny boy

have a goat, his name is don.
doesn't mind if i get on
and ride like the wind.

he plays horse, of course.
and i'm cowboy.
jumping fences. in the wind.
jumping fences in the wind.

any old morning.
or middle of the night,
running full in starlight.
jumping fences in the wind,
jumping fences in the wind.

Friday, May 17, 2019


this morning 9:15 an explosion.
the house shook with the boom.
that's the essence of this poem.
noteworthy: power's gone.
a puff of smoke cleared half a block away.
all is silent, also worth note.
city workers walking by out front
said a transformer blew, they pointed.
here no need to heat or cool.
as weather's in the middle,
neither hot nor cold.
patience is required and all will be fine.
city workers are on the job.
meanwhile our coffee is made and cooling.
we'll soon be up and running.
i made this note.
while keeping an eye out.
you never can tell.

Thursday, May 16, 2019

sun angle in may

the angle of the morning sun
perfect and bright
like the moon last night,
just right.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019


to cleveland, wasn't my plan.
have to follow the program,
actually don't have to,
but pieces fall together smother
excuse me, smoother,
together smoother when
my part of the program
is handled as written,
as set out, as expected by others
who depend on me.
besides, my insurance covers me.
so there it is.
now you want roses added
and make this a love poem?
darling, here they are, metaphorically.
program complete.

Monday, May 13, 2019

sky moans

not a patch of blue
only a slowly rotating blanket of darkness
whispering wet morn.
day after day storms hang close.
the last bumped north, growling.
now in line to catch more
it drips the roof hello.
rainy days, we know you.
no need to go out to feel water.
won't plant vegetables today,
better inside, dry
seeing through foggy windows.
look at the puddles, 
hear tapping on the roof.

Sunday, May 12, 2019

directionally clear

got out my ship compass 
to check.
with paper, pen, tape.
i labeled from the center.
north is the refrigerator,
that way, south is the rocking chair.
so we can head around knowing
where we are and how to get there.
totally directionally clear.