Passion

I told my friends the reason I had kids.
I said if I were childless, I’d age
to be the weird old lady who forbids
their noise and games. I wouldn’t use a cage
or torture them with witchy appetite,
but neither would I open my front door.
I might not lecture or appear a fright,
but I would be a neighbor to ignore.

That really wasn’t true, although in fact
I like alone and quiet very much.
I didn’t know until my first arrived
how vehement my love would be. It cracked
my heart wide open, worked in passion’s clutch.
And ever since reminds me I’m alive.

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Benched

A bench in the sun
on a spring afternoon …
molested by none
I’ll be leaving here soon,
which makes every minute
luxurious time,
and moves me while in it
to doodle this rhyme.

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Core Work

She fell in love at first in 7th grade,
and only wanted hours more with him.
Adults said puppy love, and underplayed
her passion (she’s a child – it’s a whim),
but looking back from nearly 60 years,
she meant those young emotions – they were real.
A week at age 13 never appears
as fleet to youth as age’s spinning wheel.

Another several times she gave her heart
to males she met. I think the tally’s 5.
Obsessed/infatuated at the start,
attentive and intent for love to thrive,
she compromised and modified and more,
but never bent the ego at her core.

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Force of Will

Whatever doesn’t kill can make one strong,
I’ve heard, observed examples, lived a few,
and tend to think the saying isn’t wrong
in cases where attack is less than nu-
clear, when there’s a chance health may ensue.
In fact, while threat will ever make us yearn
for safety, it’s from lasting that we learn.

The siege may be on body, like disease
or accident-caused disability,
financial hardship, spirit-sapping pleas,
exertions summoned for extremity,
or (lesser sung), the hard hostility
may be unleashed at ego’s palisade,
and threaten how the character is made.

Mistakes were in my course. My mother tried
corralling and subduing inner me.
A victim of attempted ego-cide,
deposited away for surgery,
I had to make a choice too young, to be
my own adult or stay a child still.
At 5 I started focusing my will.

(Rhyme Royal)

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Full Schedule

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)

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Complications

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)

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Speed Test

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)

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Anticipation

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)

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Laundry

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)

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A Rest Day

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)

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