I flew away from home and then took ill.
At first I thought it was the edible
I chewed so fast, but as fatigue went on
and as the cough increased, it came to dawn
on me I wasn’t free to sit and be
a wakeful member of the family.
I followed soma sense. I stopped all moving.
Ten hours on I felt myself improving.
You showed that grumpy passion as a child,
and even now you’re pushing 46
your attitudes are anything but mild,
and I no longer hunger for a fix.
You’ve always been yourself – uniquely styled:
impatient and decisive and a mix
of hot and cold, of spring and angry gloom.
You simply need more hours in your room.
(Ottava Rima)
Still negative, although I’ve got a cough,
and feel fatigue most every afternoon,
my chatter with a doctor made me scoff –
I’m tired cause I’m out of bed too soon
each morning, and the reason breathing’s off
is hanging with a 5 year-old in June.
My body took his virus (or his phage),
and napping is the ticket at my age.
(Ottava Rima)
If you forgot some time you meant to keep,
although you wrote and may have snapped a shot,
perhaps you needn’t criticize. Don’t weep,
if you forgot.
Your memory is adequate. It’s not
infallible, but stores some visions deep
and loses lighter memories a lot.
The years seem shorter now. The decades sweep
like second hands; each season is a dot.
But here’s today – so lovely I might weep,
if you forgot.
(Roundel)
Attracted to sci-fi, I read it all
when I was young: the classics and pulp, too.
I watched the movies, and I now recall
near every alien directors threw
at us: the monsters building-large or small.
And sure they all were gross, but in my view
they shouldn’t shine with slime, for don’t you see?
That costs a body too much energy…
(Ottava Rima)
She didn’t differ but she typed the word.
She meant “defer.” Her phone did not detect
the error though the syntax was absurd
(we differ from – deferring to’s correct).
We understood her meaning – she was heard;
her sentiment is what we all expect.
Cooperative as always, she remains
a neighbor who mistypes and entertains.
(Ottava Rima)
Five days ago the boy was taken ill.
There’d been a case of Covid at his school.
His parents tested him – they knew the drill:
a negative and soon a forehead cool.
In caution they conducted him by car
for deeper testing, through the hospital.
They swabbed and then awaited PCR
results. We isolated him until
we heard the happy negative. I read
to him that day at home, prepared the mac
and cheese. I hung with him on couch and bed
until his breath and stamina came back.
Now I’m not worried. I don’t feel so bad.
But this might be a case of what he had.
I wish she didn’t irritate me so.
I’m sure I’d miss her rage if she were dead.
She’s quick to take up verbal arms, to throw
her hands into the air, declare instead
of listening we really ought to know
she’s walked that road herself, so give her cred.
I wish she’d use a gentler tone, of course,
before her judgments rend her reason hoarse.
(Ottava Rima)
It may be enough
to dwell: to savor today
without memory.
We had a hedge of juniper to hate,
disgracing where the sidewalk meets the yard.
A volunteer removed it, to abate
his gratitude for staying here rent-free.
He piled in the garden all the weight
of aged branches, needles, scales and twigs
(we’ll pay someone to haul away that freight).
Now we can see beneath, a wall root-marred,
remove, repair, rebuild, or recreate.
(Magic 9)
 | sputterpub on About Mom, With Love |
 | groomie on About Mom, With Love |
| sputterpub on No Blocks |
 | Caleb Cheruiyot on No Blocks |
| sputterpub on For Now |
Sputterpub's Blog 