Skipping

I skipped two days of morning exercise,
for Saturday I played at toddler stuff,
and Sunday’s when I like to rest my thighs
and calves. My aging body gets enough
on weekdays now – this year’s routine supplies
me, works my stamina, is nothing tough.
But when this morning I began to move,
I felt my plans and attitude improve.

(Ottava Rima)

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To Market

The lights are on across the yard again,
illuminating nothing for no eyes,
as careless stagers try to merchandise.

Accessorizing and arranging when
to open house, installing clean disguise,
the lights are on across the yard again,
illuminating nothing for no eyes.

The seats where none will sit, an antique pen
and blotter, more impersonal supplies,
as superficial as mundane replies…
The lights are on across the yard again,
illuminating nothing for no eyes,
as careless stagers try to merchandise.

(Madrigal)

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It Isn’t Personal

It isn’t personal. Don’t take it so.
They don’t mean any insult or offense.
They have their own concerns – I think you know
it isn’t personal.

What you term disrespect and feel intense
about is disregard. They overflow
with prime concerns – their issues are immense.

Your gripe originates in your ego –
you’re injuring your peace and common sense.
You’re finding fault that only brings you low.
It isn’t personal.

(Roundel)

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Outflanked

It happened she was hurt when she was five –
abandoned for barbaric surgery.
And afterwards, although she did survive
of course, she altered her trajectory,
assuming all responsibility
for reaching full potential depth and length.
She cultivated stamina and strength.

Disclosive and ungettable she grew.
No secrets meant she never had to lie.
It’s only decades later, in review,
she clearly sees she clearly didn’t try
to love her mate enough to satisfy
him then, her now – she had her fervent guard
up all those years, till love became too hard.

There were so many gateways to defend!
Invulnerable might have let her win
but she was ambushed, needing to contend
with love exploding, rocking her within
a year of her first child’s origin.
Then passion she’d restricted and suppressed
oozed forth, to seize her heart and heat her breast.

(Rhyme Royal)

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Weak Controls

I started knowing, when the children came,
how vital and important was my role,
how love could be resentful, all the same,
how often I would lecture or cajole.
I tried to act in ways I’d seldom blame.
I boggled at how much I can’t control.
In time, accustomed wonder readied me
to love their children with humility.

(Ottava Rima)

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March 31

On Odin’s day last week, I took a break.
Preceding days required I exert
a bit too much, and coming stints would take
the energy and patience I maintain
for when the peace of family’s at stake.
Before the 1st of April I reclined.
My only self assignments were to make
a salad and this stanza, and divert
myself in Wednesday wisdom when awake.

(Magic 9)

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Real Estate

The place across the yard’s for sale,
so now it’s looking fresh and clean.
It’s staged to view and should be seen
by someone seeking smaller scale.

New paint, no dust, precise detail:
the seller sees what could have been.
The place across the yard’s for sale,
so now it’s looking fresh and clean.

She told me in complete detail
she bought long-term. She didn’t mean
to list this soon. But now, between
pandemic and beseeching male,
the place across the yard’s for sale.

(Rondel)

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Coming Back

Two weeks ago, reports said traffic’s back,
although we’ve yet to open many sites.
And yesterday, on my accustomed track
to purchase groceries, I was impressed
by lots of evidence of people-pack.
I had to wear the mask on every block.
The fencing trucks, the loads of scaffold rack,
were mounting as I passed. I read the flights
of skittish crows as welcome almanac.

(Magic 9)

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Passion

I told my friends the reason I had kids.
I said if I were childless, I’d age
to be the weird old lady who forbids
their noise and games. I wouldn’t use a cage
or torture them with witchy appetite,
but neither would I open my front door.
I might not lecture or appear a fright,
but I would be a neighbor to ignore.

That really wasn’t true, although in fact
I like alone and quiet very much.
I didn’t know until my first arrived
how vehement my love would be. It cracked
my heart wide open, worked in passion’s clutch.
And ever since reminds me I’m alive.

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Benched

A bench in the sun
on a spring afternoon …
molested by none
I’ll be leaving here soon,
which makes every minute
luxurious time,
and moves me while in it
to doodle this rhyme.

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