such torture the world suffers.
unnecessary to endure.
not stars nor flowers or love.
come out of that; turn a light on above.
poetry - jack sender - all of my life
such torture the world suffers.
unnecessary to endure.
not stars nor flowers or love.
come out of that; turn a light on above.
the tale that I can’t tell
just meditate and don’t relate
you know the story well
i’ll tell you what the prophet sees
the things I can’t relate the thoughts you’ll twist into your toys the things you won’t debate
it’s not what you expect you see that’s how we play the game we hesitate instead of flow as the world remains in change
the greatest words I’ve written the wildest things I’ve said were sung by children half-asleep and wetting in their bed
there is secret news I’m going to say it’s sleeping in your heart but take your time, it’s here with mine don’t leave before you start
it’s coming from the sun there’s nothing more than that the fire burns, heats the earth and here the poet sat while knock, knock, knocking the postman at the door brings coupons free, some for me and still I look for more
but there’s something that I’ve written the wildest thing I’ve read when world began in secret news the words some others said it’s not as you expect, you see that’s how the world does go we go about trying to learn instead of forgetting what we know
while knock, knock, knocking the old man at the gate chases his hat, loves his cat and that’s more than he can take
beyond the last tomorrow when the old man loses sight thoughts will rush like choir boys passing each by candle light
it’s coming from the sun
i can see it coming down
what it is our words won’t say but there’s sure enough around
it’s fitting that I say no more of the tale that I can’t tell
after all, I’m only you, a poet too, as well
the bay in light winds, always ready
on clear, fine temperature, sunny days.
i love how your waters rolled under me.
Cousin Don. Sharlett. Crab louie.
Mike, dock workers, familiar faces.
at home on the cove.
beyond is my bay.
with the great, steel, red-orange bridge.
call her the Golden Gate.
how did you slip from my grasp?
i know you're waiting for me
as i for you.
i had so much life to live.
time for good weather
here it is now and what do you know?
our deer friends nibbled buds off everything they were able.
little trees, good bushes, that's their table. way to go.
they snip sharp as scissors.
deer do. snipping whatever.
good luck now. today a Pot luck after service.
can't wait to see what everyone brings.
nonsense, of course i can and will...for all sorts of things.
i love good taste like deer do.
warm and I walked our grounds
not muddy but soft.
would be great if it drys.
and jo's lemon pie was a winner;
one of several at our pot luck dinner.
back to dimitri's. the dog opens at eleven.
we found
no parking in front.
the day very cold, wore my heavy coat, walked
to the door. the food didn't
get her vote. a matter of poor grease.
Potatoes and eggs were fine.
i thought ... and thought ... it was okay.
we took Catherine there another
time ago. we're Oberniks now.
seems should be dickens better
thick and fine; keep in line.
it doesn't look like jacket weather.
the calender creates another tale.
on the ground is a surprise sight
the falling snow is sticking white
some cities are better for what they did
they built their baseball stadium with a lid
big, fat, way out of season snow flakes
have been falling since eight this morning.
no pause. four p.m. it's nearly stopped
Six inches of snow is now melting. rapidly.
busy weather day happening.
no deer or chipmunks; no sign of them.
that's why it's so quiet.
cri-min-nently (one word for the occasion.)
Meaning caspita or holysmoke.
looking, perusing quietly.
thought I'd say a day like this
the robin doesn't seem to know
he's a robin.
we're all out'a sorts.
the decorative old grey piano shop on the left bank
has a family business next door which
steamed clean the load of wash i carried there.
in a display of it's charms
summer then will burst forth
to hold us in its arms.
beyond the far horizon
heavy rain clouds pile.
morning when i'm rising
darkness stacks up half a mile.
woke up on a saturday and couldn't say
the word preferably. it came out in pieces.
stumped me completely.
otherwise, I'm reading an excellent
book called The American West by Dee Brown.
been reading the same story
In five or six books for two years.
Started with Tecumseh WwhT beyond Lewis
and Clark into the old west
eventually into the twentieth Century.
in a good way. what'd i have?
all the necessary lines.
looked around on dry ground.
then i found every pound.
the name, the month.
couldn't find those. uh
checked several times.
the wrong year. It was there finally.
when i found the right year.
my name is Rosa.
i'm cleaning, doing poetry repair.
for me and you, reader. i swear.
who is the leader? in the air?
we all care. back up. back up.
everywhere. now take it easy.
says it all, now what do you say.
tell me how you feel.
it may warm soon. by afternoon?
no way. not today. but spring is real.
i know we need more flowers.
from what is seen, lawns are green.
spring is early. on the way
in a matter of hours.
on the top right of the main page tap "home" and you will have twenty posts per page.
also on the home page is the "archive" revealing posts back to 2007.
as the heat of the Carolina sun poured down
brothers Wilbur and Orville worked
to overcome the skeptical naysayers.
first building then improving while
experimenting with their flying machine
amid the blowing hot sands at Kitty hawk.
such unbelievable excitement and courage
while maintaining calm composure and
persistence on the way to their goal.
it was one hundred years ago the Wright
brothers from Dayton, Ohio calmly unveiled
a gift to the world: the flying machine.
what a time this 20th Century.
no sooner did the first horseless carriages
begin shaking, throwing dust and rattling up and down the
streets when flyers appeared in the sky overhead.
&&&
Pulitzer winning author David McCullough
brings to life the story of the great adventure -
how man began to soar like the birds: The Wright Brothers
it is a pleasure to be reading a book
and when suddenly the date is mentioned.
i find it is this week or the other day.
makes me feel positioned in the right zone.
not far from home.
neither the suthor nor i are alone.
we just moved closer together.
this works in any weather.
after a month of waiting
today i got two injections against covid.
special shots for people with no imunity.
now i wait, just wait, two more weeks
for imunity from the medicine to kick in.
how now brown cow
needed rhyme to show i'm serious
not delirious in proof this is a poem.
poof. up in smoke. and like shots -
double poof.
Scratch this. It's too early to write right.
to go major factual i
checked the calender
it's 23 March in this year 2022.
then noticed the farm fields.
soggy all around; sure enough.
dark clouds this afternoon.
nothing significant.
appreciate what we have.
i got my hat, brought my coat
taking a walk is what i'm about.
Oh, i'll bring my book in case there's time.
leave yours on the hook, next to mine.
so sit a while, stay in line.
think and smile.
may some sunshine start the day.
during a lacuna i'll make plans
on warm beach sands
to lunch a bunch. Oh man, ole man.
so close to rhyme.
hills to climb
curiouser and curiouser
feels like it ought to be
sun, still, wonderful.
nothing to fabricate about
this repetition of goodness.
into a new day unobstructed.
Loosen your scarf
unbutton your collar and relax.
there's nothing like
sailing over a light traffic, gentle road
with the object of doing well ahead
to get your chores done.
and tell me: is the day fun yet?
today Thursday the 17 of march 2022
i checked the time ...
the sun set at nearly seven thirty pm,
hanging while slowly dropping,
Like looking into the face of a
powerful, red glowing cannonball.
that approximation hangs on the clocks.
how well they're set today.
i take responsibility.
such a lovely day and quiet.
only thing to hear is ringing in my ear
when i think about it. but i'm too busy
thinking to pay that kind of attention.
blanket tight wrapped my shoulder.
sure dark and cozy as i slept last night.
dreamed through silence.
a calm reliance in my heart.
to generate a new beginning,
starting over heading for a new spring.
snow will melt. no more dark sky.
this winter's over.
let school yard voices sing.
first day and there is
one interested in our home for sale.
we're going to the clockman
i called and
clockman is closed until Monday.
no driving that way today.
forget the meatless so-called
impossible burger
and fries, and adding to our ketchup stash.
grey, they say will snow anyway.
i had to keep reading that to see what i was talking a bout.
forget it.
just another day.
how much going on can happen?
not a ketchup's worth.