The Egotist

You’re egotistical to take offense.
Assuming disrespect does not make sense.
Reacting to a statement that’s untrue,
and doesn’t really have to do with you,
just demonstrates your thinking’s somewhat dense.

You keep describing sexist incidents,
but disregard your own incompetence.
You couldn’t do that job, and we all knew.
You’re egotistical.

Stop blowing your own horn. Forego intense
outrage and indignation’s hot expense.
It’s time to put assumptions in review,
locate the good, let humble come, and do
the work you say we ought to all commence.
You’re egotistical.

(Rondeau)

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

Deckfall

Abrupt concussion
startles me at the keyboard:
eucalyptus fall.

Posted in Home, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

A Slice of Nice

On my couch
with good wine
beneath my fan
near open doors

Posted in Home, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

I See You

I see you, but I hope you’ll be okay
about it. In the past I’ve edged away
from individuals-in-gratitude,
who figured my attention would include
a friendship growing closer every day.

I know you’re manifold, for you display
as much variety as this bouquet.
Appreciating you is nothing crude –
I see you.

Sure we can visit, but I will not stray
to black-and-white from all these tones of gray.
I need to learn to guard my solitude
without offending you, with nothing rude.
I’m not too old to figure how to say –
I see you.

(Rondeau)

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

Trim Time

It’s near 500 days since I was shorn,
and over 50 years since I outgrew
attempts to have long hair. I wasn’t born
with frizzy curls – they came along with new
hormones, with dieting and pimples too.
I let it grow in quarantine and whim –
it may be time to book at least a trim.

(Rhyme Royal)

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

A Little More than Drizzle

Six days ago it sprinkled overnight.
I woke at 2 a.m. to gentle rain
more audible than drizzle. With delight
I toured my house and savored the refrain
of drops on skylight glass. I sought it out
in bath and kitchen, manna for my brain,
and then returned to sleep and dire drought.

Posted in Poetry, Weather | Tagged | Leave a comment

Late Lunch

We started visiting six weeks ago,
and every time we meant to share a meal
when we were done, but each of us would grow
too stressed while watching Mom that weak and frail.
We lost all appetite, and didn’t know
a better plan than getting to our homes.
But as of yesterday, she’s doing so
much better we’re convinced that she will heal.
We drank and ate, and felt the afterglow.

(Magic 9)

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

Civilicide

I recognized rambunctious all along.
I’ve tried to write-describe our feisty mood.
Americans are childish, headstrong,
and oft enact from selfish attitude.
I think my old perspective isn’t wrong –
but makes a misdemeanor out of rude
behavior so extreme, it’s come to be
insane barbaric civil felony.

(Ottava Rima)

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

Minutiae

The hour hand does not appear to move.
My eye cannot perceive the micron growth
of rosebuds in the garden. Mornings prove
the difference – passing time reveals them both
in motion – but to me they’re not overt.
I tend to think today is quite the same
as yesterday, in substance: not alert
to subtle change in what my life became.

Viewed over time, I can’t deny the shift
in waking mood, in goals and energy.
Regarding old assumptions now, I sift
ideas to true my customs to agree
with who I am of late, and how I do
my minutes best, upon this month’s review.

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

Dismal Dismay

The river level falls – there’s algae bloom.
A virus thrives and causes human dearth.
Catastrophe takes some but makes more room
for others, on this planet of our birth.
We know no other place that’s such a womb
for life, so teeming as beloved Earth.
The planet will go on – life won’t abate.
It’s homo sapiens with dismal fate.

(Ottava Rima)

Posted in Home, Philosophy, Poetry, Weather | Tagged | Leave a comment