reading my Rome book...the one i wrote for ten years, and never published. I'll see how much concentration I have left to work on it. Today is a cold, but soft winter day.

at last, January has turned cold

no snow yet, not like it should be.

 not as i remember those times when

 we used our sleds everyday, school was out

just about.  on the hill right in town, speeding down; 

through the woods to get there. 

we followed the snow falls bidding

 ... made tracks so others could find the paths,

for crossing walking ways ... in blanketed white

pounded down with footprints,

morning through night

... in January, crispy

washington terror

  saw the disturbance on TV;

as close as i wanted to be.

agony to see how real trump is,

that people willingly follow him,

emulate his example.

 

at home, away from crowds

and covid19 

all is fine for me,

are we in a book or a movie?

life goes backward,

the clock of it,

and you don't know it.

when your sleeping

hours tick off backward ...

not always, but oh, yes they do,

while you're not looking.

how can it do that?

 

Do I have to soak my poems in secret lotion and leave them tucked up somewhere on the floor of the car? I don't think so.

 

so basically

when you're out and about

i want you on the same page,

no game changers, okay ?

to tell the truth

here's the takaway

keep your eye on the ball

got that? get that.

notes on what i'll write

it starts this way ...

i hear the poem idea in my head; not quite.

sometime during the night 

it goes tick, tick, tick

i'll look over quick

then forget what i said.

consequently, what i'd write.

 

good morning, Wonderful.

could you hand me that pen

no telling when ...

by scratching out this idea

i will truly begin.

happy new year

i read and slept by the usual time. thought i heard noise of cheers but it was only ten last night. l read the news now to see what happened. this morning it seems the usual outside: silent, okay. 

now afternoon and it rains.

next part - other side

 The other side of the globe where it is summerish,  weather warm, walking around without coats ... good for you. I thought of you today. it was direct thinking of you. enjoy your warm days. here it is cold, above freezing during the daytime, but cold enough i need to decide which hat will I wear every time I go out. so now, this is real thinking of you from me here. 

 next on my mind 

is using capitalization of letters.

even in paragraph form

i prefer to do as with my poetry: 

names, titles, what i choose ... not 

grammatical order. doesn't make sense. 

seems to read and write easily for me. 

thought i'd say.

event gyro

 

she hung it by a string from the ceiling.

gave a spin; it flashed in a sparkle of sun; 

wow. beautiful to see.

after a while i pointed, "it's slowing up."

she shook her head and said, "we're all slowing up."

that time i nodded. she deserves an award for observation.

at long last the decoration slowly came to a stop

and began spinning back the other way.

i wish i could do that.

monday is practically a carnival ... am i kidding?

 all right, after a heavy snow day

 light rain has been falling.

 are you okay with that? snow is leaving. 

now it's warmer and January is a week away.

let's joyously throw away this old year

and begin a good year with new weather shall we?

Quit falling, stay quiet

 fields are under white wonder.

the sky's the color of a week-old snow drift. 

in the forecast rain is brewing

 to wash away the freshly fallen 

mounds of powder stewing

 if not today, maybe tomorrow.

reagardless, have a nice day

until the rain man gets here

and washes everything away.

holiday all over

 we design the fest, mark it out,

then act as if the calendar happened by itself ; 

we won't claim responsibly. 

pack your memory bag ...

remember the best of times.

music too, pull that out and remember

when it sure was sweet. 

 doesn't matter which tunes you recall ...  any will do,

  while you go around carrying more viruses 

within you than stars in the sky.  

  load up the reindeer

 

disagreeable

 

American girl cries to grandmother

on the phone. wants to go home.

got four months in jail at Cayman island

for breaking the Covid19 quarantine.

a different year end

winding down in warmer weather..

the year...winding or un-winding

 what is going on, this is new.

most every speck of snow has melted.

 and people go on like all is normal.

what can we do? kinda late to think about it.

a fight continues

 struggling into the weekend.

no birds, no animals. not around today.

it is completely quiet today.

there is no problem reading my head. my ideas.

i desire to write some good words, and fear to proceed.

yesterday I read my journals of trips to Mexico, Costa Rica and Italy.

fun to recall, return, live again.  should i reprint all, make more work of it?

right now i am taking it easy, getting through rough times.

keep going simply, i am.

Wiser light

no bucket fulls. we're going easy now.

 a dab at a time.

always lights have something to do with  snow loading days. It Seems snow is on the way. They say. But hey, but we're out of the big fall. measure up.

the coast east will feast on it, the white cold wet.

I look now and it seems sleepy out here.

out there, you know.

hey, it's pretty. and sleepy.

Biden my time

mask up,

way to go;

tie one on

this time for Joe.

Better days

Ohio winter is light, not yet effective.

only Covid 19 is pronounced.

January will begin another world

as trump is on his way away.

yea, i looked harder

 sleep packed with dream.

more than sand lining the shore.

my mind wandered in extreme

so much to explore.  can you feel it, Christmas.  on the way is the holiday, and it is quiet

with people staying at home.  mostly alone and thinking.  covid is about.   at least it is not freezing.  there,

something good to enjoy.  go eat a cookie.

In my memory

 it could squish between my toes

 warm days i walked barefoot

through a puddle

summer outing

The others, joni mitchell, paul simon,

I read and hear about.

many others times, songs are brief.

years in Rome, days to come. Meals.

Other cities, around talking. 

Pictures in my memory.

ballooned and floating

 watching poems, impressed, concerned

overcome with, battle along my way,

you go easy, you know you should.

roads are slippery when

 it's me in the way.

you wave briskly for me to see you.

it could have been, distraction,

took away concentrationfor a second.

objective in sight. 

slow down to be extra careful.

no matter how long it takes i'll wait.

football watchin' i saw

 

 i first saw him many years ago,

 for years i've seen him ... on TV.

thin, sturdy, blonde, neat-combed hair.

of apparent Scandinavian descent, i'd say.

he's with a football team, that's why i see him.

once in a while during a game they show him on the sidelines;

always looking attentive ... concerned.

probably a head coach of the NFL team  watch.

i know this guy's name for nothing.

i saw him on Monday night Football this week.

 

for thirty years or more i've seen him occasionally.

so i know him better than he knows me, naturally.

for sure we both get along where we belong ... on the sidelines.

and work it out

 

and work it out

hey Debra; Jack and Meridith

from way far away after Sausalito

and Rome, now Oberlin, Ohio

spark a hoppin' hello

back to times with Henry, Joanne and the rest of us.

cause you led us hoppin' true

you did and we stayed in step

you're still in our brain

December got here

 December got here. so did the snow,

knee deep white, more than i've seen for years.

today is Wednesday, last night snow came down

heavily.  today it's 41 degrees, we have no snow tires,

can we get out and back in . 

oh yes, she did,  all went well. 

she made it out and back.

now two weeks later.

it is no snow, warmer

 another day is Thursday , sunny.

blue sky with gentle, now wind, wispy clouds.

snow storms are gone, 

the temperature is over freezing. 

looking out to stillness.

 

poem for now

 

(check the time) 1:44, close the door, 

now, this is what a poem is for ...

to give you rhyme, most every time, not always ...

and good sense? hmm, you decide.

 

and poetry has meter, ... like a parking meter only you never put quarters in.

it won't expire and you won't get a ticket.

and scheme ... what a dream. 

 today's theme acceptance and encouragement ...

please accept my poem, i encourage you to write your own.

i was asked to write you a poem for today.

what is the poem about? HAH. my poems are so short i 'd divulge too much if i mention it.

 

here's my poem:

a crowd of poets is a sad thing, there's no denying;

we'll spend time holding hands when we''re not crying.

i'm not lying. 

 the life of a poet is difficult, complicated.
making notes sorting words, stacking cards; we're poets in isolation,

 doing it alone ...

the sound of one dog barking

oh, here to the corner ... no parking.

there is hunger in the United States and Covid 19

... this poem distracted you for a moment ...

    like rainbow colors, in fluffy clouds

early morning train

 

slid the window open after three
dreamed clouds again until five-thirty
when, from long beyond
i heard the whistle say - i am train

calling low in light rain,
sweet voice, milk and thunder
clawing on wings of steel,
lonely is the night, strong, sure

swinging through, blasting,
rolling heavy on quick-wheel feet
powering around, long through, then out of town,
murmur lonely; cutting night stillness, like blades on ice

iron maiden go, into first morning light
familiar friend, shaking windows with your power,
i smiled, low in bed, covered my head
slept another hour.

     this is the third time i've published this poem; 

     i like it and i'm working on it.

 

beyond midnight

 sleeping, thinking, rolling dream.

half and half, back again,

not too early, not too late.

i want to hear the tapping rain drops.

nearly see forgotten faces of friends i knew.

longing to see my friends again.

yeah, a cup of coffee and thirty minutes

can do wonders for friendships.

chestnuts found by the reservoir

While in Norwhere we drove to the lake several times, sometimes for her to walk the mile or so, loop around, then sometime to gather nuts.  A line of chestnut trees were on our way out of the park. It took us a year or two to notice them, then we began timing the season to pick chestnuts when they dropped.

kept the nuts in the freezer.  The  squirrels like them. We gathered them by the lake; nuts not squirrels. today I finally ate one, three.  They are two years old, not fresh. tasty as a nut should be. chestnuts. Now i know them. Open your heart and you can too.

a crowd of poets

 

a crowd of poets is a sad thing, 

there's no denying;

 we'll spend time holding hands 

when we're not crying.

 

no bus, no tickets, no need

 

 sure i miss the bus rides;

 i'm not in Rome where i need to figure where to ride,

where to stop, how far to walk. 

i tell you, i miss looking out the home window, 

seeing the locals pass by,

while thinking it out, planning every bus i'll take. 

how far to the next change.

stores i need to stop at along the way. 

makes it easier if i have a plan before picking the route.

pick me up again, bring me back.

and how is it i run into friends

in the middle of the city?