Exercise in Mischief
Weaving webs of intrigue
And knotting people tight
Is such a nasty pastime
But it keeps me warm at night!
The Villain of the Piece
10
Category Archives: Poetry
Home and Deranged
A Particular Kind of Homesickness
The road we ride is an old back road, a highway that goes nowhere fast,
and as we drive and drift and dream, we see the present meet the past,
the way that it has always done from cities to the countryside,
the way we know that history recycles us, and far and wide,
we all return to what we’ve known and circle back to home and hearth
whether together or alone, to best-loved places on the earth.
Is it just crazy, that we long to find ourselves in Mama’s arms,
in childhood’s safety, in our fondest corner of our homes, our farms,
our gardens, houses, classrooms, fields? Is this insanity, or just
finding our life and hope and heart in best-loved places, as we must?
Return to rooted, distant loves, become simplicity and grace,
and find the fields of gold we seek in each his own familiar place.
Mirage sur la Mer
Summer Phantasy
One day in my car when I was a-glide
and watching the highway (mostly),
I stopped for a fellow who thumbed a ride
to go farther west, more coast-ly–
After all, the sun was high in the sky
and the temperature creeping northward,
so it seemed a mercy to take the guy
and deliver him farther forth-ward–
He was pleasant, and smiled, and tipped his hat,
but I’d hardly call him talkative,
which I took as caused by the reason that
in the heat he’d been too walk-ative–
So we rode along, Silent Sam and I,
toward the coast and the broad blue sea,
’til I blinked in the glare of the sun to spy
his hat lying next to me–
No sign of the smiling, silent bloke;
what a startled twitch I made!
My sunglasses flew right off and broke
as if put to shame by a shade–
Well, I got to the shore soon after that,
keeping watch on the highway (mostly),
and was glad for the shade of the shade’s broad hat,
if a shadowy gift, and ghostly.
The Song Rises above All Else
When the night is long and the day after it dawns dark and grim, sing.
When winter is colder than the inmost heart of death and is finally supplanted by the least promising spring, empty of graces and starved for new, green life, sing again and sing out loudly as you can.
When age and infirmity and dangers of every kind are buffeting all the lovely youth and strength they can find in this sad world into terrible dust-devils of desiccated sorrow, sing with all your heart and soul and make the most tuneful, joyful, glorious prettiness that you can float into the air, and know that your song, no matter how wholly alone it may float up, is powerful enough to rise above it all. This is the only way that any of us will rise above it all. And that we will, so long as we sing.
Starring Roles
Beware of Bad Luck & Worse Deeds
If you can’t make a grand entrance, at least try to make a spectacular exit . . .
Talk about Relief!
The way my insurance is freighted
With small-print and guilt, and prorated,
I find that this chick
Who can’t risk being sick
Can afford to be
Decapitated.
Campfire Song for the Unwitting Centerpiece
Singing silly campfire songs, we sit at either side
Across the pit and toast marshmallows, making note how wide
And high the flames can leap at will, and thinking if they might
Be quite sufficiently stoked up by middle of the night
To throw something substantial in to roast before the dawn,
Perhaps a certain someone here we’ve finally settled on,
Whose camp-songs so annoy us; cook to ash before next day
Our deep-disliked camp counselor: our own auto-da-fé.
Why, certainly, cabin-master, Sir, have another toasted marshmallow! Here, just lean over a teensy little bit closer . . .
The Stench of Doom
Breathe on Me, Breathalyzer
What is that sulfurous smell?
Is it the mouth of Hell?
Or is it only Morning Breath?
With you, I cannot tell.
Through mystic haze and mystery,
Through funky dark and gloom,
Throughout the house and yard and park
And to the edge of doom,
It penetrates both brain and soul
And harries unto death—
Begone! foul demon, Hell-bound hound,
And take your stinking breath.
Take Thou Thy Hindmost Hence-ward
If thou must wind down, go downwind, please;
I’ll remain up here while thou tak’st thy ease,
for I’ve found if a lady’s downwind of thee, she’s
immediately an endangered species.
A Whisper in Your Ear, My Dear
Friendly Advice to a Feckless Youth
The true Reckless Endangerment
is seldom what you’d guess:
not often quite so obvious
as acting under stress,
thus putting others in harm’s way
for physical duress;
more likely, it’s just saying things
much better left unsaid
about your girlfriend’s hairstyle, or
about great-uncle Fred,
who is your mother’s richest
relative and, shortly, dead.
It’s bad enough your note on Fred
will cut Mom from his will,
and likely keep you from her own
good graces longer still,
but there’s your girlfriend left to calm.
Let’s hope the bitter pill
of your ill-thought hairstyle remark
won’t make her wish you ill.
When Ladies are Dancing
Patterns of elegance, synchronized moves,
Footsteps as fluid as flowing in grooves
Down sides of a fountain afloat with champagne,
They leap and they glide and they dance the refrain
As though they were ageless and weightless as light,
Each gesture, each pattern, each detail so right,
So proper and grace-filled, expressive of joy—
Intimidate wholly the poor sidelined boy!
Interludes: Songs for Dancing
Sounding
In the hands of a master
The melody played so sweetly runs
Like a playful rivulet down the hall
Spilling an invitation to
Light-footed dancing, to
Birds chittering along, to light
Flickering between the window blinds
To call all of us down the passage
To bathe in its cool music
All our Loves
All our friends are singing
In the chorus on a Saturday
And though I know they will be fine
And sing it well, I have to say
That hearing all our friends ring out
In chorus is more complex still
Than polyphonic harmonies
And counterpoint, and what we will
Be loving best and savoring
On the occasion, likely, is
The sheer delight of soaking in
That all these loves are mine and his
Art-Colored Glasses 