baking soda

while cutting hot serrano peppers for soup
she also cut her finger
not for the soup, it just happened

the soup was good but her finger burned
painfully hot because she
had worked it around in pepper juice

eating with on hand
she kept her irritated hand
in a kettle of water on the table

water didn't help and it looked novel
i didn't ask her to pass anything

later she found relief
by rubbing it with baking soda

the next evening i used my fingers to sprinkle
ground chili peppers on my food, then rubbed my eye
i was going blind or die trying

she told me - put baking soda on it, baking soda
i considered putting my head in a plastic bag
with baking soda in it
instead i rinsed my eye with water and it worked
or i would have tried soda pop

she knew the time

to discover for yourself
is usually best
to hear it told
one does not believe it

there was one girl
a friend of mine
always and ever
she knew the time

when we were kids
i somehow found out
time was one thing
she knew about

she knew the moment
to start for school
how long the chicken baked
and when to remove the cookies from the oven

she looked quite ordinary
as appearances count
her grades were just average
so teachers did not suspect

never tardy for a class
nor late for supper
or tuned in late for a favorite tv show
she ran the clock for high school basketballs games

if she rose before the end of class
then the bell was off
she woke precisely at six
without alarm or other tricks

she knew the time
when to shower
and the hour when to dine
the minute too soon
and the second too late
remember the time we did that?
"yes, 9:15 in fact!"

when she was grown
and on her own
many were the hours
she spent alone
for appointments she was never late

she knew each minute
and the seconds in it
a gift or a curse
for better or for worse

new year's eve when others
watched the times square ball
she didn't have to look at all

alas she died at 32
yet still i'm sure she knew ahead
at which hour they would find her dead

precious junk

my precious junk is all mine
and it's senseless to get rid of it
no one wants these accumulated pseudo treasures
and i sure as hell won't have a sale so some knucklehead
can wander up, scratch their fat butt and ask,
will you take a dollar for it?
get the hell out of here!
i 'm keeping it all, every bit
living with it and loving it
Silas Marner was on to something

when i'm dead let who ever is left deal with it
sell it or dig a ditch and throw it in
but for now, these keep sakes are memories of a lifetime
i am surrounded by the clutter
so i must love it all
where it is
lined up and piled high
i'll walk around it when i have to
once in a while i notice something in particular, smile and wonder
what is it and where in the hell did that come from?
when i am gone and they have to sift through all this crap
they'll say with pride
at least he never collected Beanie Babies

frog countin'

5 or 2 to 4
like the old Chicago song 25 or 6 to 4
only i'm talkin' green now

frog counting is difficult under the best of situations
there were five
remember big frog? he was a grinner
then it rained
and then there were two

a day passed and we counted three
another day or rain and we go to four
big frog hit the highway
no doubt about it
mating season for the big guy

the young ones that remain probably were born in the pond
and have another year to go before they take wings
so we have four cuties
(two may be a courtin'
they're always sitting together)

duck

I'm working here. This is new font. I figure this year we have a work in progress. If I can make it work, I'll keep it, but I might have to switch to a regular site so a particular entry can be more easily found. The other day I was searching for something I had written January fifteenth. It took a long time to find it. If I could put things in alphabetically . . . ah well, we'll see what happens.
The following entry is a bit serious, but isn't life.


a short walk from where we now live
i got to a spot that reminded me
my older brother used to hunt ducks
right here when he was young
here by this tree
now it's practically in the middle of town

he took me out hunting once
to a marsh somewhere
he knew where to go
for some reason a few ducks flew in
shortly after we got there
came low right over us
it was an ambush

yelled at me to get it, shoot it, get it
shoot! shoot!
and i shot

blew that sucker to smithereens
saw it explode, tumble and drop dead
practically at my feet
it took the full force of the shotgun blast right in the chest
i heard the thump when it hit the earth
the mallard wasn't pretty anymore
laying there it looked like a wadded up rag

and i knew that was it for me
i'm sorry it happened
and would never do it again

after college i joined the navy
cause i was going to get drafted
and went in enlisted
didn't want to be an officer
was afraid i'd like it
i led the choir in boot camp
and worked as a journalist for four years
still play the piano
guns aren't for me

in a rose bush

in a rose bush up the side
of our house is a nest
where a robin sits on eggs

the other adult returns
passes food to the sitter
as the soon to be family

takes turns warming the eggs
discouraging blackbird invaders
while waiting for the children

south river

with just enough clearing in the brush
to make it to the river's edge
i sit by the water
thinking of son and daughter
and, my, how they grew

it could be june, at least it's warm
and this tired old rowboat is mine
to paddle a little way from shore
to drift away into time gone before
i feel the sun on my back

as the tiny water bugs circle
small animals and insects move in the thicket
and with nothing that matters
my every new thought scatters
it sure is a nice sunny day

i played at this place before
saw carp jump and ducks fly over
in this land i knew most of
i'm now just a ghost of
old memories on south river

a shoulder to cry on

a shoulder to cry on
i saw that and thought how beautiful
oh wow

then, send me the pillow you dream on
and while you're at it
i could also use a dozen eggs

just pack everything in a box
make sure it doesn't get all crushed
you'll have to deliver it yourself

cause if you mail it
our mailman will drop it a few times
and kick it all over the lawn

then that'll be the end of
our true love story

each day

learn more and work diligently
avoid haste and waste
stay calm

live in honor
give and accept compliments
stay fit

peace is the way
love is the answer
in truth you survive

pond 3

the pond is an irregular ten by fourteen feet
i put it in about ten years ago
it must be getting ripe

the fish are happy
they number about 20
they go under the lily pads and plants
in the middle of the deep end

the five frogs seem content
five? what is happening?
big frog sat in the middle
four smaller frogs hung around the sides

last year big Herb liked
the sound of my push mower
and often accompanied my mowing
"herb, herb, herb"
that's how he got his name
the call sounds like the
pluck of a loose banjo string

ohio has 15 frog species
ours are the family ranidae
and they look like uh, kinda green frogs with some yellow?

they travel in the rain
big storm coming in tonight
and unless they can dig under the wooden fence
they must be using the driveway

skip rope song

went with mary to the country
the sun was shining there
then down behind the cow barn
for a little dairy air

one for each of us

she told me
to get out
one of each for both of us
i looked over my shoulder at her
wondered if she were kidding

three vitamins bottles
six pills
this is easy
two pills from each bottle
maybe this poem is already over

i picked up the first bottle
and tried to remember when i first opened a pill bottle
maybe i was reading comics then
and got distracted

when did they start these funny tops?
isn't the fact it is a pill bottle enough?
do they have to make the bottles tricky to open?
can't parents put pill bottles
where kids can't get them?
what happened to "no"?

oh, yeah
i was countin' pills
one for each of us
i mean, one from each bottle
make that two from each bottle
don't confuse me

done

morse code

in the days when i was a
ham radio operator i liked
the Morse Code best and spent my time
sending and receiving dots and dashes

send out a call to anyone who
was standing by out there
and someone replies
then a conversation began

some hams used big rigs
large antennas and fifteen hundred watts of power
or illegally more and could shake passing car windows
mine was the basic unit
a light bulbs worth of power

from Northern California i talked to
Antarctica with my one hundred watts
once i made contact with a guy in Philadelphia
who was using a rain gutter as an antenna
and ten watts of power

it's strange that you know
if you like the other person
just as quickly as when
talking to a stranger face to face
there is never any doubt
you get along with the other, or don't
not by what they say, just by
how they send the dots and dashes



Of course, even poets have a point of view, and as
with Morse Code, you can read the person in there
cause we can't hide ourselves, although we think we do.

meri cut the grass

meri cut the grass then worked
in her garden while i sat
on the stone step
and watched some
drinking a soda pop

she does good work
sweats some, and i am ready
to hop right up and help her
but then the heat is telling me to watch a bit more
just then the library calls

kim said they have a book
for meri and i, it sounded like a trick
so i asked if it was one book
she laughed and said no
so then it is books we have!

i happily replied i'd do something about that
she told me there was no rush
we have until next monday, so i sat back down
thinking - now, today is only wednesday
of course we'd be in before next monday

did she think we'd come running
or was she being kind
or is that what they do at the library
call people on the telephone?
well, hats off to everybody!

wind's work

who watches the wind's work
sorting through a row of bushes
plucking dry leaves
i do
follow the swirl
see the swath as it's winding

there are indicators for life
signs that point the direction to follow
pathfinder

a something on the sidewalk
where is the tiny cause for concern
overlooked in haste?

a trip on the stairs
a dab of sleeve and mustard
an offhand thought turned remark
the song on the radio
how do accidents happen?

mark your words as they go by
point into the wind
stay alert and be keen to listen

don't save up for life
like rain in a bucket for water on a fire

the setup is now while the joke
may be years down the road
don't forget to laugh when the time comes

dust on the counter
a veiled layer of disuse
clues are a sidestep
to the rhythms of life

get up

609, 611, 614 a.m.
how many times i've seen
those same red numbers
day after day
what do you know, what do you say
it is an abrupt start from dream
to dawn on another day

what does it all mean?
that is the question of all time
look around, it is the same
familiar, home, sweet . . .
as i stretch out of bed
shake the cob webs outta my head
waking slowly
getting showered and dressed i catch
a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wonder
should i cut my hair or let it grow?

what is this stuff
do i really like dry cereal making noises
make a note: why doesn't it play music?
now, what do i need to take with
oh, don't forget my keys
then, out the door
wait, did i lock it?
i did

three peas

three peas balanced
on the blade of a butter knife
one is you
one is me
one is eternity

thunder in the pass

yonder there's a net
over the pond
much of it
elevated a few feet
waving just enough and
flashin' like a star

so, long before sundown
blue heron came flappin' in
sauntered right alongside
lookin' for trouble

caught him gazin' round over the rocks
like they was tombstones
but he twitched, got nervous
didn't like the looks of it
then up and left town

big frog is there
sitting on the side
on a rock above the water
puffed up on a lotta pride
kinda grinnin'
and the fish are swimming again
feeling safe
practically dancing

peace has been restored
just plain yup

a bite

of poems
i thought a thousand would do
though time has passed
i'm still not through

i could load you up
pour out my treasured best
you'd be stacked high in aces
with too much to digest

one at a time is better
so if you stumble through and snatch a few
that'll do
like the bird that occasionally
flies in an open window
who should have paid more attention
to catching insects
may find something to nibble
if he doesn't panic
and the cat doesn't find him first

perhaps some other day
there'll be a thought right for you
not too much, a line or two
even a bird flying with mouth open
is hoping, and sometimes catches a few

poetry lesson

on poetry
know the rules
there are no other rules

start writing and then finish
or just do part
then do some more later

editing is importance
sews spelling
an rhymes good

whether you start each line
with big or small letters
is to the authors perverse discretion
so i heard
but you hear a lot of contradiction

now go for the throat
oh, and read what you wrote
too cheek four ears

i found it useful to title poems
with names coming from the heart
so as they stack up
you can still tell them apart