Talking Heads

Posted on April 24, 2021 by sputterpub

I heard a Republican speak
as if his path leads to a peak.
They cannot disguise
all their cheating and lies,
but gaslighting is their technique.

Posted in Civics, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Extrapolation Fails

Posted on April 23, 2021 by sputterpub

Extrapolation fails me now I’m old.
The past is no predictor, we’ve been told,
of stock market performance. Such is true
in fact, more than we ever dreamed or knew,
for disconnects are booming big and bold.

No vision of tomorrow can be sold
when knowledge of today is uncontrolled.
The history of culture gives no clue.
Extrapolation fails.

The weather grows too violent, too cold
or hot – we’re stuck, and no one gets paroled.
Our politics plants wisdom in the few.
The vectors fade or hide from me and you;
the ether interweaves a mass blindfold.
Extrapolation fails.

(Rondeau)

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

Upshot

Posted on April 22, 2021 by sputterpub

We know that Rick and Sally fell in love.
We figured their relationship would thrive.
They seemed to put commitment plans above
all selfishness, and they were 35.
Rick’s health conditions came as a surprise,
when sadness grew and daily pain attacked,
but Sally was his mainstay. She’d advise,
confer, support her mate and marriage pact.

She never lost her trust in medicine.
She modeled patience and tenacity,
and Rick in time remembered how to grin.
His symptoms eased – his days are now pain-free.
She met the threat, deflecting a divide,
but lately Sally feels dissatisfied.

Posted in Love, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Delta

Posted on April 21, 2021 by sputterpub

Δ

This cottage is my haven and retreat.
It shelters me from noise and people-stress,
but comfort’s only absolutely sweet
when following some outside busyness.

At times I’m bothered by the words or act
of one I love, upset and near-obsessed,
that’s other than deliberate or in-fact.
My subsequent relief makes me feel blessed.

I’ve heard that we evolved to notice change.
Our eyes react to movement just as fast
as fingers flee a surface burning hot.
So clearly I’m describing nothing strange.
To savor pleasure, I must sense contrast.
I used to hold this true, but I forgot.

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

Conditional Release

Posted on April 20, 2021 by sputterpub

If we believe reports about the shot,
I must be 95% immune
right now, but no one knows how long we’ve got
before protection lapses, or how soon
a variant will conquer. May and June
are clear for me – July without a doubt.
I’d better use this respite, and get out.

(Rhyme Royal)

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

The Shining

Posted on April 19, 2021 by sputterpub

I’m tidy, and my house is sailboat-small.
I spot-clean when I notice pollen, dust,
or webby threads. I seldom clean it all
at once, but yesterday I tackled much,
although I used no mop or alcohol.
Removing skylight screens, I worked a brush.
I swept and vacuumed and addressed each wall.
I washed the tub and bathroom floor. I thrust
myself to cleaning. Details now enthrall.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Home, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Shove

Posted on April 18, 2021 by sputterpub

The Saturday of silence led to talk
today, when no one heard my voice but me.
Deciding to buy groceries, the walk
to Star and back framed a soliloquy.
I processed irks about some family –
annoyance at a relative I love.
When I got home, I’d purchased clarity –
I’m gratified that walk provided shove.

(Huitain)

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

Home Alone

Posted on April 17, 2021 by sputterpub

I haven’t got a thing I want to say.
I can’t imagine any company
that might inspire me to talk today,
although I diagnose no lethargy
or sadness, for my health and sanity
appear as well as normal. I don’t moan
and can’t complain of any agony.
I’m lucky to be quiet here, alone.

(Huitain)

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

The Girls and the Insects

Posted on April 16, 2021 by sputterpub

The rooms above the place across the yard
have been to grad school coeds rented out.
They’re cute, but seem to find their work so hard,
they have no time to haul a bin. They doubt
their tenant skills; they both have lived without
the lessons of responsibilities.
Last night they woke the neighbors, freaking out
with shrieks of “hornets!” at three honey bees.

(Huitain)

Posted in Home, Lessons, Neighborhood, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Dry Winter

Posted on April 15, 2021 by sputterpub

I can’t control the weather or the sea.
I’m powerless to stop the viral spread.
My loved ones act like they’re ignoring me,
so self-esteem is found in my own head.
I’m old enough I don’t bemoan. Instead,
accepting drought and doom, I damp my wrath,
and try enjoying (while allowed) a bath.

(Rhyme Royal)

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