Fair Fare

Posted on September 30, 2021 by sputterpub

This month we’ve gotten
ride discounts on all BART trains.
Fair fare feels deserved.

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On the Stranger Who Paid Our Tab

Posted on September 29, 2021 by sputterpub

What prompted him to buy us wine and food,
and leave before we voiced our gratitude?
Did we remind him of a mother dear
to him, but missed or gone this awful year?
Was he in a nostalgic sort of mood?

Did he receive a check and then conclude
he’d share the Stimulus that he accrued?
Or was he paying forward? It’s not clear
what prompted him.

We didn’t notice him. We weren’t rude –
our talk absorbed us, free of platitude,
acknowledging small boons that made us cheer.
Was he attending? Did he overhear
and pay to stimulate that attitude?
What prompted him?

(Rondeau)

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Precomposition

Posted on September 28, 2021 by sputterpub

Six days from now I’ll journey to the north
(when this is posted, I’ll be one day there,
arising from an air bed, first of fourth
sunrises, forecast mild, okay air).
I’ll be away from home – the trade is fair:
my privacy for love is how this goes.
The ticket’s on my phone, I’ll trim my hair –
the biggest prep’s this verse I pre-compose.

(Huitain)

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Filter Value

Posted on September 27, 2021 by sputterpub

I wavered at the academic gates –
Should I attend the university?
Or get to work at once, creatively?
What benefit to further school awaits?

My father had an answer good for me.
He pointed to a million books, and said
if I encountered decent faculty,
they’d aim me toward the gems that should be read.

I ate that wisdom and enrolled at Cal –
a choice I’ve had no motive to regret –
and now apply my father’s rationale
when I observe the loathsome Internet.
The information highway is a mess
without a filter – proving more is less.

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Rest After the Overnight

Posted on September 26, 2021 by sputterpub

I woke at 4 this morning, after 6
unbroken hours fast asleep in bed,
to see the dark of rain on wood and bricks.
I hadn’t heard its patter overhead.
My slumber was too solid – I was dead
to interruption, deep in dreaming rest.
I smiled and returned to sleep instead
(the night before was for a 4ish guest).

(Huitain)

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Talking to a Four Year Old

Posted on September 25, 2021 by sputterpub

They keep on asking him “Did you have fun?”
He answers “yes” because that seems to please,
like when they shoot and bid him to say “cheese.”

It’s not my place to quarrel – he’s their son –
but empty questions beg polite decrees.
They keep on asking him “Did you have fun?”
He answers “yes” because that seems to please.

It isn’t what the boy and I have done –
we like to be together – company’s
our pleasure – we don’t need festivities.
But they keep asking him “Did you have fun?”
He answers “yes” because that seems to please,
like when they shoot and bid him to say “cheese.”

(Madrigal)

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The Forgotten Mask

Posted on September 24, 2021 by sputterpub

Upon the table, by the door,
Shibori-dyed with indigo,
I walked without it to the store:
the mask I dislike wearing so.

I own five more of cloth and two
that makers claim will filter flow
of virus particles (untrue):
these masks I dislike wearing so.

And after near six hundred days
of blocking air from mouth and nose,
I still forget – attention strays –
the masks I dislike wearing so.

(Kyrielle)

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One PM

Posted on September 23, 2021 by sputterpub

It’s 1 p.m. and I am done today.
I rose before the sun and haven’t stopped.
I dealt with exercise, this H.O.A;
I made three scheduled calls and then I shopped.
Deciding to relax before I dropped,
I’m sitting with a book and salad now,
and next I’ll nap, if I remember how.

(Rhyme Royal)

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Testing Testing Testing

Posted on September 22, 2021 by sputterpub

Awaiting Covid test results for some
I love who feel a little off this date,
who operate with different rules of thumb
regarding symptoms likely to abate,
I plan to amble over, through their gate,
and into rooms I’m sure are clean enough.
I’ll let the grownups rest and generate
some fun for kids too young to get this stuff.

(Huitain)

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Word Origin

Posted on September 21, 2021 by sputterpub

I love to be at home, but here’s the rub –
no matter how determined I’m to rest,
relaxing on my couch or in the tub,
attempting to feel easy, lazy, blessed,
I notice what needs dusting, or I scrub
a surface I ignored when I was stressed.
I have to leave if I’m to recreate –
vacation can’t be done without “vacate.”

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Home, Language, Personality, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment