My magic feather was the exercise.
I thought I had to move to find a theme
to write about and wax a little wise,
but even in this sedentary stream,
I tend to cogitate, complain, and dream.
I can’t retard the process if I tried,
and though my topics may not soar or seem
significant, I’m not yet ossified.
(Huitain)
I’m nearly well but here to tell fatigue,
less caused by age or illness than by work.
I solo-cared for two, and I’m beleag-
uered by exhaustion now I plan to lurk
alone in silence and refrain from task
or errand, staying home and keeping still.
The only deeds from me today I ask:
to bathe, compose two meals, and try to chill.
I have a book to read and can get more
without a journey. Here are games to play.
I won’t remove the dust or sweep a floor.
I’m strong and will resist impulse today
to get (while I am here) a project done.
My only aim is having quiet fun.
Persimmon leaves turn
downward and to shades of blaze,
fall-ready to fall.
600 days before I caught a cold,
which took me down a peg for near a week,
but I’m recovered now it’s time to hold
myself accountable, and exercise.
I’m coming back improved, determined, bold
enough to see a future healthily.
Apparently the signs can be controlled
or modified, to vigorous from bleak,
by turning mind to turning lead to gold.
(Magic 9)
Now coffee’s back in hand and appetite.
For days it put me off – though hot and black,
my morning nectar wasn’t tasting right.
Now coffee’s back.
I’m old and hypertension could attack
my health. I thought I’d cut caffeine to fight
the creeping weakness and the healing slack.
But really, it was just post-nasal blight.
A cold beset me, old, and made me hack,
but I recovered. I regained delight,
now coffee’s back.
(Roundel)
My internet went down the other night.
My lightbulbs flickered and they gave a blink.
The grid that gives us grist for heat and light
is failing more and limping more and old.
The infrastructure’s folding from a height
we used to brag about and never doubt.
I sometimes wonder when the streak I write
will interrupt. Now lately what I think
is failure of the grid will block my byte.
(Magic 9)
I aim to be polite and even nice.
I mostly try avoiding talking crass.
I’m into using language that’s precise,
so I think you’re behaving like an ass.
That’s not applied to women (unlike witch),
but much more accurate for you than bitch.
A little ill, I’m taking Monday off.
I will not work or exercise today.
My cold has now matured into a cough,
and I prescribe long rest, computer play,
an easy book with nothing wise to say,
avoiding interactions I won’t miss,
and soup. I plan to idle, come what may,
as soon as I am done composing this.
(Huitain)
I caught the cold my grandkids tossed around.
There’s no escaping 7 months or 4
years old – we saw, we hugged and kissed and clowned,
in chair and couch and rolling on the floor.
A little ill, I’m willing still for more.
Although since Covid I’ve been only well,
affection’s worth congestion for a spell.
(Rhyme Royal)
The center of my universe is me,
and circumstances here are rather nice.
The next concentric circle’s family,
and though my peers and elders give advice,
there’s plenty of respect and courtesy.
My neighborhood demands no sacrifice.
But farther out – the more the distance grows –
a tide of ignorance and rudeness flows.
(Ottava Rima)
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