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.

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

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.

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Blue

Posted on October 3, 2020 by sputterpub

Surprised at blue sky –
A blessing from borrowed time
we must soon repay.

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

Dismay

Posted on October 2, 2020 by sputterpub

I disagree with you: I’m not surprised;
I’m not embarrassed – he’s a brute and boor,
but really, bullying requires more.

He’s ignorant, too dull to be advised,
and though his acts and words make us heartsore,
I disagree with you – I’m not surprised,
I’m not embarrassed, he’s a brute and boor.

That wasn’t bullying! It was despised,
but no coercive force was played, for sure.
An interrupter tried to take the floor.
I disagree with you: I’m not surprised;
I’m not embarrassed – he’s a brute and boor,
but really, bullying requires more.

(English Madrigal)

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The Old Mother

Posted on October 1, 2020 by sputterpub

The mother of my BFF is old.
The woman’s age is pushing 95.
I’ve known her 60 years and, truth be told,
we can’t discover why she’s still alive.
It isn’t like she models how to strive
(in fact she never sought her level best,
a higher truth, an answer or a quest).
She lacks a sense of humor and she’s glib.
She’s quick to judge and selfish and repressed.
We think she left her passions in the crib.

(Dizain)

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Things Going Wrong

Posted on September 30, 2020 by sputterpub

Appalled at power plundering for purse,
as civics catalyze calamity –
Astounded at pandemic’s climbing curse
and how deficient all our remedy –
Attacked by fires every year grown worse,
with acres scorched and sick air quality –
Our lust to breathe outside is nothing strange;
the superseding ill is climate change.

(Ottava Rima)

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

To Pop or Not to Pop

Posted on September 29, 2020 by sputterpub

She entered here and stated as she sat,
“You need to add some color to your bed.
This area is fine, but look at that –
all wood and white – it wants a pop instead
(or in addition) – that’s my point of view.”
“I disagree,” I said. “I like the look.
I want no bed attention that’s undue.
That spot’s my private sleep-and-reading nook.”

I meant no argument – how could there be
a right or wrong for how my bed is dressed?
But she shut down. She didn’t disagree
but wouldn’t talk, as if she were distressed.
I thought we were describing different taste,
but I got read “aggressive.”
For my haste?

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

Pizza Night

Posted on September 28, 2020 by sputterpub

We’ve suffered half a year of quarantine
(which comes from ‟40” days, so it’s extreme).
But last night I bought
a pizza, and brought
it home – then my meal was supreme.

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

The Happiness Spectrum

Posted on September 27, 2020 by sputterpub

As far back as my memory extends
regarding socializing with my peers,
in classroom desks with elementary friends
or high school intermixing several years,
I tended to compare myself with all,
but not in terms of popularity.
I always questioned, as I now recall,
if they were happy, and to what degree.

I never tried to copy someone’s test
or pass another’s homework for my own;
I always found it too much work to lie.
But I liked sideways spying – I assessed
the signs of satisfaction I was shown.
I wonder: are you happier than I?

Posted in Personality, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment