There may be something wrong with me, I know.
I turn the TV on and then ignore
a quarter of the sound from any show
and as for video, there’s even more
I don’t perceive as stimulus. I go
for Austen reenactments (with encore),
and classic animation’s fluid glow,
relaxing in the lap of metaphor.
Congenitally nervous, like my folks,
I’ve never let hysteria hold sway.
I counter me with exercise and jokes,
uniting mind and body every way
I can and with intention every day.
And though I still detect the signs and tics,
of late they aren’t problems I can’t fix.
(Rhyme Royal)
So after 12 years off and 2 years on,
my mania to bathe begins to slow.
It hasn’t disappeared – it isn’t gone.
I love to be immersed, and if I know
myself I always will. That I’d forego
today surprises me. It’s not the drought
or scent-dead age accounting for this “no.”
I now have soaked enough to do without.
(Huitain)
A benefit from my diversity
of worries (multi-faceted concerns):
the many help me duck a tendency
to concentrate on one until I’m ill.
As soon as focus hurts (or presently),
I shift attention to an other scene.
My younger kin provide variety,
and sometimes dire smite to smitten turns,
which feels by contrast like a gift to me.
(Magic 9)
In further evidence of climate change,
the squirrels are resorting to green plums
as dietary mainstay. It seems strange
to watch them hunt the prunus; hungry bums,
they must be famished – fruit once scorned becomes
their diet. See them finish every bit –
who used to litter pulp drops only pit.
(Rhyme Royal)
Our mom gave us pistachios
that couldn’t be outclassed.
I meant to make them pose for prose
but ate them all too fast.
It doesn’t take book knowledge to opine
repeated movement causes wear at least.
Three score and ten convey a sad decline –
I know some flexibility’s deceased,
and every month my skin becomes more creased.
I’m lucky old. I won’t complain or mourn
some inner works now seeming overworn.
(Rhyme Royal)
Once upon a time I misbehaved.
I hurt no one but I betrayed a trust.
My bad went undiscovered – no one raved
or even scowled – there was not a bust
or whimper – every consequence was waived.
But rue began to eat my gut like rust.
Imagining how terrible I’d feel
uncovered, I reformed without reveal.
(Ottava Rima)
The smallest state’s equivalent to us –
two Senators are what we each elect.
So why is there an argument or fuss
preserving filibuster? We all know
the Senate’s anti-democratic, plus
Republicans are weak and seek to cheat.
So politicians think they should discuss
a moribund tradition none select.
The GOP is whining like a wuss.
(Magic 9)
I heard the sprinklers fire while in bed.
I rolled supine and opened morning eyes
to evidence of rain above my head –
the spattered glass of skylights a surprise.
Two hundred miles east there’s heat instead,
and low humidity, and blood-red skies.
We’re California big and so diverse,
no matter what there’s always somewhere worse.
(Ottava Rima)
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