Lord of the Flies

I didn’t like the book. I disagreed
with where it moved and what that pathway meant.
I never would have chosen it to read,
but that’s how then the school assignments went.
That’s roughly when my passion stirred to mark
the character of citizens around.
I aimed to catch our symptoms, light and dark,
and childish behavior’s what I found.

Exuberant and fanciful we are,
attracted to rambunctiousness and play.
We innovate, make movies, plunder far,
and shouldn’t run with scissors, night or day.
Of late we’re seeing how the future skids,
when super power’s wielded by the kids.

Posted in Civics, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Quad Pad

Quad-ruled has been my paper choice for years –
canary yellow if available.
The quarter inch of grid-marking endears
it to my eye and renders flexible
the layout of a flowchart or a list.
It’s doodle-useful and invites my pen,
but lately marketing has made a twist –
I’m having trouble finding them again.

Our recent purchase only has the grid
upon the recto side. The back is blank.
Was this mistake or thrift? Does price forbid
the ink on verso – is this goof or prank?
I always used the front and back, you see.
These newer pages tend to stymie me.

Posted in Poetry, Writing | Tagged | Leave a comment

One More Day

If I had only one more day to live
with memory and personality
intact, I’m certain I would want to give
attention to whatever I can see,
or sense with any other faculty.
I’d focus and take every moment in.
I think I’ll set that exercise for me:
pretending death may let more life begin.

(Huitain)

Posted in Aging, Personality, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

My Old Gal

There was an old gal from back East
who lusted to fix me, at least.
She longed to redo
all my teeth and hairdo:
my mother – critique-loving beast.

Posted in Family, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Hiding in Plain Sight

Eleven years ago, when I began,
I fretted it would take up too much time
responding to each comment from a fan
(I thought that ere I ever published rhyme).
My daughter laughed – she knew how thin the scan,
reminding me a poem won’t earn a dime,
advising me to post without concern.
There’s freedom in obscurity, I’d learn.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Poetry, Writing | Tagged , | Leave a comment

To Move to Plan

I woke improved in back but at loose ends.
My early morning path was no more clear
than smoky sky above and murky trends
of culture skirting chaos, hemming fear.
I wanted to depart by 10, from here,
to travel west for toddler play and love.
My exercise to stretch and get in gear
took 30 minutes to produce the shove.

(Huitain)

Posted in Aging, Family, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Waitin’ for White Bread

They’re lining up for white bread at the store.
Of course it’s tasty, but it’s toxic too.
Your body has a natural stop – no more
protein or salt or fat, it signals you
when you exceed your limit, or before.
But no self-regulation says you’re through
with carbohydrate silage. So beware
of paying for that taste with chronic care.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Food, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Back Attack

There’s nothing like a back attack
to make me re-assess my state.
The bend and pain may not be great,
but sure-as-shit I’m out of whack.

At first I fret. My mood goes black.
I rail a moment at my fate.
There’s nothing like a back attack
to make me re-assess my state.

For soon my attitude’s on track,
reviewing how I’ve moved of late,
and disassembling stress I hate
to recreate the calm I lack.
There’s nothing like a back attack
to make me re-assess my state.

(Rondel Prime)

Posted in Aging, Health, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Duality

“I stand behind my stance,” the leader said.
“I’m firmly for my own decision now.”
His language made me wonky in the head –
I couldn’t help imagining just how
a person stands behind himself, instead
of justifying what his quotes allow.
We think in words and pictures. Both have heft.
With photo ops and slogans, we’re bereft.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Civics, Language, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Begging for Edit

I meant to post a Magic 9 last week.
I set it up and put it on the chart,
but rising on its day I had to tweak
a pair of lines – I couldn’t make it part
of what’s become an I-can’t-stop-it streak,
for it was flawed to mediocre art.
It violated meter, twisted tongue,
and begged for change before it could be sung.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Poetry, Writing | Tagged , | Leave a comment