They gave me Master Class three months ago,
and I intended to explore it well,
but other tasks intruded even though
I thought I had the time throughout our spell
of house arrest extended. What befell
were other habits: daily ink to page;
office work and childcare; FreeCell;
exquisite naps enabled by my age.
(Huitain)
We’re complicated. Everybody is.
Although we yearn to simply analyze,
a myriad of nuance modifies.
Dictating traits that should be hers or his
or young or old – that’s what our culture tries.
We’re complicated. Everybody is,
although we yearn to simply analyze.
“Best version of myself” sounds like a quiz
to me – a goal I cannot recognize.
We’re complicated. Everybody is!
Although we yearn to simply analyze,
a myriad of nuance modifies.
(English Madrigal)
I didn’t mean to test my energy
when yesterday I hustled to the store.
I realized that today was bound to be
so crowded I can’t cram another chore
inside the morning hours (family
will pick me up by noon). I aimed to score
some vegetables before the Monday sun.
I brimmed with vernal vim when I was done.
(Ottava Rima)
I like to think I’m flexible, although
I’m slow to welcome change or a surprise.
Anticipation makes my fancy glow –
I hardly need a plan to actualize.
The forward look is candy for my eyes,
so much of promised pleasure is conveyed,
that though I know it isn’t smart or wise,
if I’m foregone it’s hard to be forestayed.
(Huitain)
There’s something cool about fresh-laundered sheets,
especially when sleepwear gets washed too.
Then add a long hot bath, which when complete
is followed by a shower and shampoo.
The glad result will come when day is through:
I’ll sleep as clean as honesty within
organic cotton soft upon my skin.
(Rhyme Royal)
Most mornings home I write and exercise,
but sometimes brain or body have a say –
I’m feeling too fatigued to sweat today.
I’m used to pushing through – I recognize
reluctance due to age’s bleak display.
Most mornings home I write and exercise,
but sometimes brain or body have a say.
My legs complain. My stamina replies.
I slow myself to listen and obey
the signals that suggest a rest. Okay.
Most mornings home I write and exercise,
but sometimes brain or body have a say –
I’m feeling too fatigued to sweat today.
(English Madrigal)
My haircuts used to be six weeks apart.
For 50 years I kept the style short,
but now a year has passed us since the start
of house arrest, I’ve grown some longer curls.
I’ve even added to my shopping cart
(online of course) barrettes and bands and clips
(but not a comb or brush – that isn’t smart
unless I want the frizz I try to thwart).
I’ve lockdown-learned a touch of tressy art.
(Magic 9)
A day off (self-rewarded) with light rain
outside, invites me to experiment
with cooking, as a way to entertain
myself, but also to produce the scent
of pizza I’ve been craving. My intent
to venture out was stymied by the cold.
I have good cheese and onion. If I rolled
a dough of almond flour, two eggs too,
a little salt and butter, soon I’d hold
a wedge to taste. I’ll see what I can do.
(Dizain)
I love a young man in the City,
who oughta be fined – he’s so pretty.
His cuteness will floor
any witness, at 4!
With his birthday today here’s a ditty.
My father taught us love of analog,
in logic, setting levels, any clock.
It’s like a science simile – a cog
escapement powering, tick-tock,
an output with no staggered on/off shock,
perceivable to senses from afar.
He taught us how to angle and unlock
a compass point, to show us where we are.
(Huitain)
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