Reprieve

While working out this morning, I recalled
a plan I made three days ago. I told
myself these minor aches that often mauled
my head around my portside temple should
receive a doctor’s care. I’m not enthralled
with intervention, medical or not,
but if persistent, my resisting’s bald.
My body must have heard, for I behold
no signs today I need be overhauled.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Aging, Health, Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Seven at One Blow

It got to where I played three games a day
of solitaire – the challenge deck on screen.
And then a grandkid opened Wordle’s way,
which soon had me engaged and kind of keen,
evolving as it did to grid buffet.
Of late I take on seven with caffeine.
And that’s enough – I won’t extend my scroll
and add more puzzles to the daily dole.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Cognition, Personality, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Considered Complaint

Perhaps I need to be considered more,
but I felt pissy yesterday, and mad.
I nearly yelled at strangers in the store.
I met no passing eyes. I mingled sad
with fierce contempt, disdain a launching pad
that fired judgment into plaintive word.
I felt alone. I threw off feeling bad.
I voiced complaint and maybe someone heard.

(Huitain)

Posted in Personality, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

New (Old) Normal?

Disgusted that her blood pressure is high
again, our mother wants a doctor’s fix.
She doesn’t listen when we offspring try
reminding her that she is 96,
and maybe what’s occurring’s normal now.
She’s never been this old, and nor have we.
I notice I’ve a tenderness in brow;
perhaps it’s just a sign of 70.

Posted in Aging, Family, Health, Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

The Bad Consultant

The expert paid a visit and was paid.
He studied the dynamics, interviewed
our team, absorbed the plans, and then he laid
out recommended actions. To conclude
his work, he edited the notes he made
for spiral binding, but did not include
the tactical and practical we needed.
His job was done and none of it succeeded.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Money Stuff, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Better By Bike

She ages but she’s relatively sound,
although she has less stamina and wind.
She doesn’t sleep as deeply, and she’s found
her epidermis saggy and so thinned,
she’ll bruise from using keys or bumping wood.
Resuming after illness exercise,
she tries to crunch and stretch, and sure it’s good,
but she concludes aerobics gets the prize.

The feedback was too pointed to ignore.
Her heart rate rose; her nose began to run;
she pedaled and respired even more,
and 13 minutes after she’d begun,
she felt herself return. No hurt impeded.
Her body said exactly what she needed.

Posted in Aging, Health, Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Hoardino

They have a crowded house. They buy in bulk,
and don’t dispose as often as acquire.
The smile boxes tower like a hulk
in entryway – and though they say they’ll hire
help before the situation’s dire,
they model hoard behavior for their boy.
Then he retains so much I’m made a sigher.
At least he opts for books as favored toy.

(Huitain)

Posted in Family, Personality, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Renée

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the name
her father chose – she thought it undeserved.
She didn’t have a chromosome of claim
to French. Her heritage was ghetto life
in Poland, Russia (actually Ukraine),
so how could she possess an accent mark?
She dropped Renée when marrying, became
in last and middle other, till she swerved
(reborn) today, and modified her frame.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Personality, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Advocations

My mother said that I should practice law.
But that won’t work. Although I argue well,
she overlooked the mercenary flaw:
it’s strictly my beliefs and thoughts I tell.
A clump of friends and colleagues tried to sell
the notion teaching classes would fulfill.
But I don’t thrive with groups – my talents dwell
in one-on-one attention. That’s my skill.

(Huitain)

Posted in Personality, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Why I Ride

The afternoon was long, and I was tired
from baby care and talk and little sleep.
“I’ll drive you home,” she thanked as she inquired
how best to help me get to well-earned rest.
But I refused the ride, for I desired
the privacy of public trains and buses.
I get to people-watch. I get inspired.
And though it costs me time, I plan to keep
my urban transit ways. I’ll rest rewired.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Personality, Poetry, Transit | Tagged , | Leave a comment