A Good Mail Day

Posted on October 13, 2020 by sputterpub

My regulars got ballots in the mail
while I awaited mine. It came at last.
I carried it inside (the season’s grail),
and with it an emotion that surpassed
relief: a postcard sent delivered joy –
Arriving with official voting things
were sentences and stickers from a boy
I love – a 3 year-old who always brings
a sense of wonder, humor, logic, glee
to every day – reminding me to look
at living like a glad discovery,
aware I’m paying less than what I took.

Today is hard; the year is difficult.
A toddler teaches hope to this adult.

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Time & Space Heater

Posted on October 12, 2020 by sputterpub

I have a calendar but don’t rely
on it, retired, home 200 days.
But morning gives a message from the sky –
to rise at 6 is long before the sun.
And then I feel a chill I can’t deny,
informing me that winter’s on approach.
No longer needing fans for cool supply,
I switch appliances to what conveys
the warmth I want, as summer says goodbye.

(Magic 9)

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

Density

Posted on October 11, 2020 by sputterpub

I live so close to neighbors, you’d expect
my house to be a fishbowl where you see
my every act, but here we all respect
and cherish our domestic privacy.
We aim our vision forward in the yard,
ignoring social noise unless it booms.
We give what space we can – it isn’t hard
to filter out disturbance from our rooms.

But twice in thirteen years I’ve harbored here,
a next-door house ignited in the dark.
A frightful fire filled our atmosphere,
and voices I don’t know rode every spark:
the neighbors never-noticed offered help
before the fire engines’ welcome yelp.

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Weary

Posted on October 10, 2020 by sputterpub

Weary of worry
Tired of tense
Hoping for hurry
Savoring sense

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His Income Tax

Posted on October 9, 2020 by sputterpub

Our tax laws are a
rat’s nest, but they’re not that bad:
of course Trump broke some!

Posted in Civics, Money Stuff, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Negligent Evil

Posted on October 8, 2020 by sputterpub

Sure we’re acquainted with incompetence.
We think of it as failure to succeed,
but left unchecked it’s negligence indeed.

We’ve seen it in our exes: lack of sense
or sensitivity, and selfish greed –
sure we’re acquainted with incompetence
(we think of it as failure to succeed).

Perceiving it with clear intelligence,
incompetence does more than just impede –
it binds us, or it flails until we bleed.
Sure we’re acquainted with incompetence.
We think of it as failure to succeed,
but left unchecked it’s negligence indeed.

(English Madrigal)

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Quarantine Hair

Posted on October 7, 2020 by sputterpub

When I was young I longed to have long hair:
like princesses and Barbie dolls at first;
then schoolmates blonde and lanky everywhere;
then middle-parted hippies. I was cursed
with natural curls, a tendency to frizz,
the color almost-black (I didn’t know
how bad a hundred strokes of brushing is,
as strategy to make my hair-type grow).

So after college, when attacked by lice
(I never should have borrowed Liz’s brush),
I had my hair cut short, and it was nice
(my love for length was like a schoolgirl crush).
But now my hair is gray, six months uncut,
and mostly I’m enjoying it, somewhat.

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Seriously?

Posted on October 6, 2020 by sputterpub

I never checked this out, but I was told
when I was young, that some suspected Jews
of spreading the bubonic plague. That bold
surmise was baseless, based on stupid views
that held because the Semites weren’t ill,
they must be at the root of the disease.
In fact their laws of living were their pill –
they prospered from their food and health decrees.

And if we are to learn from history,
then let’s ignore the theory I just read:
Among the famed, how come the GOP
to test so positive? Why not instead
(or too) the Dems? These questions beg an ask,
yell citizens who never wear a mask.

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

Poetherapy

Posted on October 5, 2020 by sputterpub

A week ago, I had an argument
without a clue to why or what about.
I didn’t understand that brief event
but now I’ve written it, I have no doubt
that what occurred was not a conscious fight.
The subject didn’t matter – reason quit.
My tendency’s to make the logic tight,
but language wasn’t then appropriate.

You told me as you sat how I’d improve
my habitat with staged accessories.
But I appreciate its clean design.
I took offense, but never meant to move
my face to signal so. My summaries
in verse allow me light without a shine.

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Unearned Happiness

Posted on October 4, 2020 by sputterpub

I know of opulence and luxury –
I’ve seen the movies and I’ve read the news.
I doubt it is deserved – it seems to me
the fruit of brute behavior or ensues
from legacies unearned, estates well-planned,
inheritance without regard to worth,
success in numbers or by sleight of hand,
and extra goes to accidents of birth.

But now I have to turn critique on me.
I don’t deserve conditions I enjoy:
my little house and garden, privacy
protecting me from all that might annoy.
My gratitude is realized and unswerving.
It triggers empathy for undeserving.

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