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.

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."

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.

tension for the fans

a cold rainy night

went to bed early

heard in the morning

indians squeezed by boston

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.

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.

poeming

I.

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.

II

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.

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?

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

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.

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. 

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.

explosion

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.

sun angle in may

the angle of the morning sun

perfect and bright

like the moon last night,

just right.

onward

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.

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.

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.

ode for deer

near the quiet town, New Haven,

three deer, to one side,

off the road

in tall grass, pause.

calmly look our way.

preeminent creatures.

standing without movement,
their beauty

took my breath away.

helpers

the birds help with a poem

they are the live souls.

sure plants are living,

but don't hop on my fence,

can't practically dance.

then let me give a salute to plants

that can be seen growing

day by day

and become flowers

bursting into joyful color

or produce fruits or vegetables

that need only salt or oil

to sure taste good,

provide nutrition;

their down side is

they never tweet.

This is my lost poem of 8 May. Diane, thank you. You copied this and sent a compliment. I lost it and thus you brought it back to live again. I am most grateful.

short line

had a poem lined up,
one, yesterday's.
short line.
where did it go?

i know i had one.
for may 8,
no idea where it went.
so, i say good day

to that what i wrote.
where? can't tell.
no idea what happened.
evidently it didn't float.

lost, though i searched around;
carefully, took my time.
seems i trashed a good one
into the sea of delightful rhyme.

warm again

you know, one day it will be warm again.

another thing,  i'll get my stuff in order.

wait, i'd like more coffee...

please.

// you want a refill?//

did i say that? i meant that.

//here comes//

thanks...and there she goes.

so i said, a lot is out of place.

i have to put stuff away,

things should be where they belong.

they don't go automatically...

too bad.

one day cars will drive themselves,

they say. automatically.

can they build me a garage?

the cars, i mean. i wonder.

//... //

she glared at me.

i'm serious.

//drink your coffee...sip it.

oh, by the way, the good news is

one day it will be warm again.//

onions

carefully eyeing  the circumference of the garden.
having given thought to where summer sun
will best caress the lovelies.

kicked ideas in my head, lost track, came back.
decided exactly where they would thrive.
imagined skin reds and purples of the honey's to be
while patiently waiting
this developing warm spring day.
now: when under arrival the beacon of noon sun 

small bulbs, called sets,

are lovingly pushed one at a time

into invitingly soft, fertilized, prepared soil;

to be watered and sunned,

day after warm day,

growing continuously,

sweet, large, savory and wonderful.
yes,of course there is waiting involved,
but time steps forward.
summer will take a hold.
in a hurrah velvety onions will be.

Race for the Roses

The race was this weekend.

Today we drove in the country

to the Mennonite store.

Wanted to ask if Chuck was here

Meri reminded me, "There is no Saint Chuck,

Mark is his name." I didn't see him,

so I asked the girl in the bonnet

working the counter

who she bet on

in the Kentucky Derby.

come on

i don't remember other years with rain so much.

or all this gray instead of blue.

waiting change again; warm up some.

clear skies, come on home.

what i

what i dreamed i remember.

can't put into words.

it's on the tip of my head, tongue.

ready to make me smile.

the change

here is

the change i've been waiting.

warm today they say,

oh, we're ready.

then on the menu for this afternoon,

a shake 'em up thunderstorm.
we'll work through it,

bear with it.

take what we get.

stopped in Milan, she got coffee,

i had a cheese filled donut,

hey, i chewed it slowly.

she shared her coffee.

still waiting for rain,

and it's warm out, nearly hot.

dogs walking, geese honking,

the park at the reservoir.

breeze blowing; call it wind kicking up.

making circles of last fall's leaves.

man it stirs the trees,

runs ripples on the water.

i hear a train away.

going to rain at three, they say...

a big one, already half past the hour.

checked the radar, storm's running west.

maybe later we'll catch it.

now we're out of it. warm, that's it.

even steven

can you call it,

the game, the card, the number, the winner:

heads or tails?

are you guessing or do you know?

want to tell me how?

can i do it?

predicting with an edge

does you every well?

what can be the difficulty?

is the answer floating in space somewhere?

do you recommend it for under eighteen?

is it better i forget about it?

due

thick clouds, bright,

light gray morning,

easy we go ahead

winding out of April.

May planting time will be welcome.

there's going to be more flowers this year;

i need the color to remind me of the good times.

seems a fine idea, right?

i'm garden ready.

will be out to catch sun rays first chance i get,

can feel the warmth just thinking about it.

summer ahead is due.

treat me well.

remember again

winter long,

no wonder cowboys shot their guns

in the sky, unnecessarily.

flurries falling slow enough to see between,

how's that for a picture in your head?

that was february,

april is winding up.

i am running out of waiting for

weather i can handle.

how about taking my shoes off outside.

no, that's not a question, it's a suggestion.

a remember summer days:

berry pie, garden time.

it'll happen.