Anniversary Villanelle

Posted on March 13, 2021 by sputterpub

When we began this fractious quarantine,
I feared sequester might exceed three weeks.
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

Our fate was like a busted trampoline –
we tolerated broken springs and squeaks
when we began this fractious quarantine.

Some fell and others stumbled, caught between
conspiring fears and factual techniques.
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

Politicizing masks and spitting mean,
we didn’t know our fellows could be freaks,
when we began this fractious quarantine.

Some reasoned but so many were unclean,
ignoring soap because the soapbox speaks.
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

It’s near a year, and still we all careen.
We’ve fallen and no longer see the peaks.
When we began this fractious quarantine,
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

(Villanelle)

Posted in Civics, Coronaverse, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

My Second Shot

Posted on March 12, 2021 by sputterpub

My second shot, I’m fortunate to write,
was painless and no hassle to obtain.
The venue wasn’t crowded and the chain
of volunteers was organized and tight,
directing us with smiles masked but bright,
conducting an inoculation train –
my second shot.

My arm is sore, I’m tired, I feel light
in energy. It’s nothing to complain
about – a grumble wouldn’t be germane
or accurate. My age meant expedite
my second shot.

(Rondine)

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

Welcome

Posted on March 11, 2021 by sputterpub

I got my second shot a week ago –
they say I may in 7 days proceed
exploring more of what I used to know
last year before the fear of flu appeared.
Now I’m some time away from home, although
I’m relatively comfortable right here –
these days amazed to watch the household grow.
I get to meet the sweet they grew from seed –
an infant who last year was embryo.

(Magic 9)

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

Meditation/Medication

Posted on March 10, 2021 by sputterpub

I had a bout of strong anxiety
a month ago. I recognized the stress,
although at first I worried I might be
about to have a stroke. I was a mess
and then resolved attempting to relax:
to slow my breath and strengthen my exhale.
I tried to counteract the sharp attacks.
I didn’t fully win or fully fail.

I have a friend who panicked yesterday –
she called and tried to get MD advice.
Between some cancellations and the way
her iPad wouldn’t work (it locked up twice),
she soon demanded pills to calm her nerves.
She didn’t opt to tap her own reserves.

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

It’s Still Too Soon

Posted on March 9, 2021 by sputterpub

It’s still too soon to socialize with you
in person – we must manage via phone.
That second shot we get this week is known
to carry strong protection – that seems true –
but we are told to let its power brew
another fortnight into strength full-blown.
It’s still too soon.

I owe my bubble care until we’re through
the staggered quarantine we don’t condone.
Until my kids are covered, we must groan
alone. You asked although I know you knew
it’s still too soon.

(Rondine)

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

Venal People

Posted on March 8, 2021 by sputterpub

I wonder how bad actors sleep at night.
When famous athletes lie, it boggles me.
It’s obvious they aren’t thinking right –
with no regard to their mortality.
Their actions can’t produce true self-esteem.
Their treasures must disable them with murk.
They cannot own enough – gold turns to steam,
that came without morality and work.

They’re after short-term gain and solo fame –
their focus isn’t building dynasties.
Venality and vice are not supplies
they’d use to love themselves. So please don’t claim
they’re great, and don’t invoke conspiracies,
to comprehend a cheater spewing lies.

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

Life is Change

Posted on March 7, 2021 by sputterpub

The more things change, the more they stay the same,
is probably the falsest claim I’ve heard.
Though mimicry and metaphor can frame
idea, denying change is too absurd.

Not even Peter Pan stayed immature.
Pandora peeked, Eve nibbled, and I’m sure
that rocks erode and continental plates
are destined for uncertain shifting fates.

Observing how our babies learn to be,
we see them make tradition of two days.
They long for repetition, and derive
assurance from familiarity.
That early work implants, becomes always,
and paves the notion yesterdays survive.

Posted in Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Identity

Posted on March 6, 2021 by sputterpub

My daughter had no hair when she emerged.
What grew in that first year was dusky gold.
A blue-eyed blonde she was, till fancy urged
experiments with tints the drugstore sold.
In time her natural color toned light brown,
and later locks of silver threaded through.
She highlit when the mirror brought her down,
and now it’s looking white and wanting blue.

Throughout she’s self-described her hair as blonde;
to her that definition’s nothing strange.
She took it up when young and yellow-fond,
and though she understands that life is change,
she’s stuck in that pre-teen identity,
and gives short shrift to time’s reality.

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

Word Dimension

Posted on March 5, 2021 by sputterpub

In love with language all my life, I’ve learned
a lot of origins. I studied Greek
and Latin, read Old Norse, and even turned
a little toward the Sanskrit, with a peek
at proto-English etymology.
I’ve always been a reader, and for years
I added shelving everywhere I dwelled.
E-readers now allow me smaller spheres —
I store a thousand volumes lightly held.

The decades of attention I have paid
to words, combined with sticky memory,
appear to let me hear more tones conveyed
than others catch. A dog’s olfactory
machine attends to smells full and intense,
and I get words in ways most do not sense.

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

Repetition

Posted on March 4, 2021 by sputterpub

It’s known if monkey see, then monkey do.
That’s how small apes and babies learn to be.
So watch yourself – your boy is watching you.

You act like you expect your words, if true,
to be the way he learns. But don’t you see?
It’s known if monkey see, then monkey do.

You’ll have to move that phone out of your view
if you’d deny him virtuality,
so watch yourself – your boy is watching you.

Of late his fits of temper make you stew.
You’d rather he learn equanimity.
It’s known if monkey see, then monkey do.

When you’re irate, it’s hate and wrath you spew.
Your mien is cold – your scowl’s enmity,
so watch yourself – your boy is watching you.

Respecting repetition is the clue –
use analog, and model courtesy.
It’s known if monkey see, then monkey do.
So watch yourself – your boy is watching you.

(Villanelle)

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