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)
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)
So much of what I thought I understood
is contradicted by the recent past.
My turf was a suburban neighborhood –
of course I thought that ambience would last.
But values taught as permanent and good
were post-war pushes, marketed so fast
and flashy, flooding on a PR tide
that flourished 50 years to now subside.
I had ideas about our special ways.
Although I knew that persons could be cruel,
I bought the common wisdom: goodness pays;
and everyone will benefit from school.
And while I witnessed myriad displays
of ignorance, unfairness and uncool
behavior, yet I cherished the conceit
that we had common ground beneath our feet.
I learned we were in trouble at 13
(my father gave me Carson to peruse),
but till about 10 years ago, the scene
was not as hopeless. Now I know we’ll lose
the climate war, no matter what we green.
Now I can’t ignore the way we choose.
More data doesn’t matter. Even still,
the climate-change deniers sling their swill.
We seem suspended on the cusp of change.
I don’t know how economy can heal.
I’m rooting for diversity’s full range
(new cultural ideas hold strong appeal –
non-binary is sensible and strange –
variety is evolution’s deal).
So much of what I thought was incorrect
or partial. I don’t know what to expect.
(Ottava Rima)
It’s usually the fall that triggers me
to start a project or to modify,
but I am springing now – I want to be
engaged, outside, among. I long to try
my feet again, at urban liberty.
For now, I aim to clean this place, where I
have sheltered 13 months in quarantine,
and then I’ll test the range of my vaccine.
(Ottava Rima)
I skipped two days of morning exercise,
for Saturday I played at toddler stuff,
and Sunday’s when I like to rest my thighs
and calves. My aging body gets enough
on weekdays now – this year’s routine supplies
me, works my stamina, is nothing tough.
But when this morning I began to move,
I felt my plans and attitude improve.
(Ottava Rima)
The lights are on across the yard again,
illuminating nothing for no eyes,
as careless stagers try to merchandise.
Accessorizing and arranging when
to open house, installing clean disguise,
the lights are on across the yard again,
illuminating nothing for no eyes.
The seats where none will sit, an antique pen
and blotter, more impersonal supplies,
as superficial as mundane replies…
The lights are on across the yard again,
illuminating nothing for no eyes,
as careless stagers try to merchandise.
(Madrigal)
It isn’t personal. Don’t take it so.
They don’t mean any insult or offense.
They have their own concerns – I think you know
it isn’t personal.
What you term disrespect and feel intense
about is disregard. They overflow
with prime concerns – their issues are immense.
Your gripe originates in your ego –
you’re injuring your peace and common sense.
You’re finding fault that only brings you low.
It isn’t personal.
(Roundel)
It happened she was hurt when she was five –
abandoned for barbaric surgery.
And afterwards, although she did survive
of course, she altered her trajectory,
assuming all responsibility
for reaching full potential depth and length.
She cultivated stamina and strength.
Disclosive and ungettable she grew.
No secrets meant she never had to lie.
It’s only decades later, in review,
she clearly sees she clearly didn’t try
to love her mate enough to satisfy
him then, her now – she had her fervent guard
up all those years, till love became too hard.
There were so many gateways to defend!
Invulnerable might have let her win
but she was ambushed, needing to contend
with love exploding, rocking her within
a year of her first child’s origin.
Then passion she’d restricted and suppressed
oozed forth, to seize her heart and heat her breast.
(Rhyme Royal)
I started knowing, when the children came,
how vital and important was my role,
how love could be resentful, all the same,
how often I would lecture or cajole.
I tried to act in ways I’d seldom blame.
I boggled at how much I can’t control.
In time, accustomed wonder readied me
to love their children with humility.
(Ottava Rima)
On Odin’s day last week, I took a break.
Preceding days required I exert
a bit too much, and coming stints would take
the energy and patience I maintain
for when the peace of family’s at stake.
Before the 1st of April I reclined.
My only self assignments were to make
a salad and this stanza, and divert
myself in Wednesday wisdom when awake.
(Magic 9)
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