the ceilings are high.
Floors are natural, wood boards.
no cars passing this morning
all creatures doing as best they can
no rabbits, deer, birds nor wind;
and it's warm enough, you know for sure
after a long winter cold, spring finally began.
poetry - jack sender - all of my life
the ceilings are high.
Floors are natural, wood boards.
no cars passing this morning
all creatures doing as best they can
no rabbits, deer, birds nor wind;
and it's warm enough, you know for sure
after a long winter cold, spring finally began.
daylight savings time
forgotten the day after
until six months later.
why do we reset clocks.
don't tell me.
why not forget the change
we need the sun in the morning
and the moon at night.
coffee and oatmeal are sufficient
cancel inconvience
when i heard he was a Beatle
i had no idea Paul McCartney
would write Live and Let Die,
a Jame Bond movie theme;
or that fifty years later i'd write these words,
think this thought, and not be particularly surprised.
my, my, how the world goes 'round.
although, i had not the foggiest idea.
the lake waves roared and gulls flew swiftly
as lives tumbled forward
Into new times and new friends;
always unexpected adventures.
years later i came back and walked on the pier
only slower and not so far out this time.
now i can satisfy myself by looking at old photographs
and pictures i'd painted years ago.
there are memories. sweet memories we share
of times back then. you know when.
summer was ours. yes it was.
we'd hear the coal dumper and the morning trains.
remember?
we saw familiar people walking on main street.
you see one, recognize, and forgot his or her name;
almost recall, but not quite. you never thought some year you'd try to remember.
and there were people then i could recognize but never knew their names.
their cars or trucks went by and a while past they would be familiar too,
and we never gave it a second thought.
i know driving by you couldn't help but look to see what was playing at the Ritz.
you'd smile. some time you'd have seen the movie
and now you'd drive to the next town to a decent theater.
or it was league night at the bowling alley.
maybe friends would come over for cards tonight or a beer.
no matter ... evenings went well.
these endless summers were ours.
The International space station
floats overhead, clear as a bell,
bathed in the light from the sun.
Tonight the ISS passes over at
10:49 p.m. Coming from the west/southwest.
It revolves the earth every 90 minutes.
16 times a say
a blue jay and a male (red headed) woodpecker
tree hopped outside our window this cold morning,
20 March, with frost on the ground.
reading this on another date you'll have to imagine
the coldness. the stillness. the internal anticipation
of the sweet beginning happening now.
all around, anywhere we look.
talk to anyone and behind the day's greeting
is the hopeful sweetness, the advent of tomorrow's glorious season
no one can stop or keep away.
Spring.
The day is a absolutely like a spring one;
which began midnight today March the 21st.
Clear, light blue sky this morning and fields hold
a light tan cast more or less, as far as I can see.
we need sunny days to get the green growing.
plus some heat, of course.
and naturally it will ... happen i mean.
slowly, swiftly through every lawn and field ...
green'll cover everything as far as we can see.
there will be birds and people walking their dogs
with their plastic bags.
***
the evening news on Cleveland TV said the space station
is coming over at 8:39 tonight, from a west south-westerly direction.
also i heard something "about fifteen degrees." i missed that.
later it was time, Meri said come on, and we went outside.
in this new home we don't know the directions well,
only East for the rising sun and West where it sets.
she wanted to drive to Delaware somewhere where there is open space.
at home we have trees all around and only a few minutes to get ready.
we stood in our driveway, in about a minute and she starts,
"there it is ... i see it there." i looked and there it was,
just-about overhead. we expected a dot and it's large as captain Kirk's Enterprise. and lit up.
for seven minutes we watched the space station pass over from the middle of our driveway.
didn't happen, yet, it's gonna.
wind that clock, storm's on the way.
i put on shoes instead of slippers.
serious water coming down, down.
we'll soon see how much
atmospheric anomalies
are shaking our days.
at the very least: dress for it.
seen together during winter months
lined up on ice in a row
then leap up to the air all at once
when they decide it's time to go
ducks fly in a shifting v
low in flight, not going far
I've got to stop right there. The title: Line in a row. When you have a line,
that's a row isn't it? I am sure that a line indicates a row. I don't have to say
straight line. A line is a line, and that's a row. March is a month for poetry,
isn't it? Keep your shoes on. Get in the box.
get ready for opening day.
When the pitcher pitches,
knock it into the stands.
and when you round the bases
be sure to tip your hat to the fans.
Today I was taking a nap
when the phone rang,
"This is Andy from the shipping department..."
That's all I ever hear,
because there is a pause
and I hang up, every time.
He's been calling everyday for a month,
maybe longer, I lose track of time.
Maybe he's from the "fishing" department.
I've never asked him to repeat himself.
We've never really talked.
I just know when it's
the wrong time for a call
and I'm not expecting one,
the phone rings
and it's Andy.
Ok, slip-up. Goes around.
Hold him so high yet still have fear.
There I said the word
And how's your morning.?
Quiet, nothing... prepared.
Thought I finished with dentists,
Then a holiday nut broke a crown.
MY crown. ... my golden crown.
Do I get a 21 gun salute for showing up?
Forget you. Bail out now or she'll
Drive you you know where.
Yes. I'm ready.
***
get tough.
later, Got through.
a quarter into the year,
noting days, like dripping waters, pile on repeatedly.
our position labeled fine. over my shoulder now,
separating threads, flipping heads
also tails.
while making bread ... who controls flipping?
examine what is going on. avoiding dread, enough said.
Position ourselves in hopes for the most, making toast ...
turning out a good year ... our objective.
we're underway ... put jelly on
a mention of jelly to make us all feel good,
well beyond this year's starting line
our position is labeled fine.
over my shoulder now.
separating beads, flipping heads
and tails, making bread,
who is controlling flipping?
dodge dread, what was said
positioning ourselves for the most, making toast ...
simply turning out a good year ... our objective.
no doubt we're underway ... with jelly on.
jelly is mentioned to make you feel good
it's Fahrenheit degrees in the morning.
warmer than anything we've had for
a while. not freezing is it. not a question.
reminds me of country roads we've
driven between here and Shelby
where Ted and Ali's our old
breakfast place is. for me it is
sitting still and looking out the
window that draws back the warm times.
the lockdown is done for
had enough for now
don't asume anything.
keep your distance. mine too.
now it's the month and the angle
when first thing each morning
brightly shining through the blinds
the sun decorates my wall with brilliant stripes.
it 's a bright display
gets my attention.
too bad the sun
doesn't make coffee.
i can't hear it ticking.
upon trying i ascertain
it feels wound enough.
the porch is cold.
the clock is not keeping time in the traditional sense we think of ticking and moving clock parts. not running seems to sum the clock lack of movement. i last checked this morning. it must have been running. i remember no strain or alarm to get it going or worry bout the clock's condition. i surely didn't write a poem about it then.
clock tocking is now in absence.
also ticking is gone.
with this note quiet is registered.
one of the easiest things to do.
keep tires up...then one day wham.
you've seen it happen when you don't expect it, you're suddenly
looking down on misery, not always yours thank god, everyone has a turn.
it happens all around...or used to, yes, misery. they're making
better tires than they used to. we used to look down and find a state of distress...
well, yeah. remember patching tires. a while ago. this is miserable truth.
i am not kidding. on the good side when things are fine we can pull over on the road side
chew a twig of grass, oh, and sit on a
knoll, enjoy the view. your tire is okay,l
just relax...take it easy for a while. you're not in a hurry. it's a good sunshiney day.
seems the weather and the date is where i can be.
the weather because i see it out the windows,
the date because we're doing a quick slip out of February.
i like the month because it's my birthday time.
i don't wait all year for it, but maybe i do.
it's a familiar marker, more than Christmas and other holidays.
and it's in my head because it is only special to me.
familiar, more than special. i know the month well;
cold, snow and my birthday.
just a picture...in mind,
then it became me, on the sand
near the sea. one foot In
feeling exquisitely warm water
such a fine sunshine day.
we welcome the exchange
standing by in the water. ready to walk
in a while.splash in up to our chin, go ahead fold over, then look around ... rolling
where we are. Like waves, we're rolling.
2.
remember a few days ago how the snow melted when winter collapsed,
seems the bottom dropped out of it.
the heavy winter cold had gone away.
it's not even April. not close.
the snow season was ripped out from under us.
No skiers. No complaints.
3.
look how shopping i found little discs of chocolate, on the top shelf.
write those candies down, will you? then scratch them off the list, go on.
lover make sure there is not a trace of those little buggers
bugers and buggers...two guh's i suppose.
candy anyway.
now, zooming, should we wear our Sunday clothes?
warm feeling, i know. scarf on.
meanwhile, mechanical...
a scientific study to relieve the spot where literary pain...
let me phrase this, that, my hat...no cat
vines entwines,
pile a stack...sticks, candle wicks
my heart holds you back of mine,
nick of time
sublime, so sublime.
now look where we are.
different weather surrounds us,
not usual, it's warmer.
see out the window, the snow is melting there.
winter has collapsed,
the bottom dropped out of it.
the heavy winter has been taken away.
carted off, ripped out from under us.
i don't mind, although it seems a portent of different weather to come.
***
note here:i want a semicolon in this punctuation. i will have to wait to try again.
a semicolon carries a certain flare.
doesn't bother me to go back to read
a second time what i wrote.
generally i always have to.
it's not easy to digest a poem the first crack.
is this good or normal? well, who is to worry?
i don't write them in one pass anyway.
This is getting to first base with a poem.
to start i put nuts in a basket. Gathered are feelings and i called them nuts.
he reached into my mouth and unscrewed a post he put in to hold a crown.
i said that right. the post is loose, he(my friend the dentist)'s going to put in a larger post.
(here my wife would say "he's not your friend, he's you dentist." and i'd say "he is too my friend.")
now, on the next day.
I'm going back to (my friend) the dentist;
I'd rather avoid the thought, however, I respect the man.
I'd look ahead happily If i had half a wit.
i'm going to let him twist a larger screw into my jaw.
yeah, i am melting snow
well, seeing it, not participating
it is too slow to watch snow melt.
i am warm inside looking out
take your time; you melt, i'll be here.
there are a thousand people standing around and the new guy is asked:
"Are you here for your second shot, sir?"
new guy looked at the ceiling, thought before he said, "yes."
The guy who asked is in charge.
he wore a dark blue shirt with a badge;
i remember him from the last time...the first time.
He let's the line wait forever, that's who i remember and is dark blue whirt.
the next person in line, a woman, spoke out:
"are you going to let the line continue?"
these are not union volunteers.
the man in charge looked, thought and paused,
then said, "Go. go. go."
i heard the man in charge ask: What color is your car?
in the majority there are only white cars, and grey.
"White". I spun my head around for no reason, i just did.
"the man in charge turned to a girl and said, "when he
comes back tell him he has a white car".
the one telling and the one told are different ones.
so is the one he told.
see how the snow has finished
has yet to melt, but it's over.
walking through my February i see
winter turned the corner.
this is what it looks like at the end.
now after nine a.m. the sun on the glistening snow reflects in a golden light.
i can see it like that.
the crowd is large.
this and that, fat cat, where's your hat?
i looked on the chair ... on the floor ...
on the mat? give me a minute, will you?
Let us chat, shall we?
pat the cat, where he sat. by the bat.
this and that, he smiled.
she tried to smile but had difficulty.
the river runs to the ocean, eventually.
as heavy snow falls.
Texas has a hard time...power outages and freezing temperatures.
blurry snowfall here in northern Ohio.
a few feet. and it continues to fall.
we'll take it easy. see how it, goes.
i don't know how this poor poetry happened.
there were moments when I lost my balance.
words got by me.
all together i'm distracted...we have full-on winter.
snow is to my knees.
i'd bake cookies if i knew how. it's a day for it.
i don't want to read instructions.
and no one needs the sugar.
out of nowhere, started up
blowing lightly, white dots floating by.
makes a pretty morning, still air.
only a breeze with no direction.
growing wind ... north to south.
minus traffic again.
here comes someone walking a dog.
some squirrels, a few birds.
mainly nothing going by
hours pass
begins snowing harder
stops an hour. starts again.
the message is the snow;
keep the weather foot
on the pedal so
no soot, only flakes
dusting piles
of preexisting pounds
weighing on the other day's
accumulation we see,
every where we venture
this day. so we're snowed in
and on. and another foot's
coming