Moderating L & K

While this one lacks self-confidence
and that one’s is extreme,
I hope my own is in a healthy state.
They neither want intelligence,
they’ve ample self-esteem,
but I’d have each attempt to modulate.

Then L would not apologize
for doing no one wrong,
and K might manifest more empathy.
From L I didn’t recognize
offense, or any strong
response connoting negativity.

And nor did I take home last week
a sense K understood
the relative contagion in her mood,
who rarely sees how much her pique
disturbs, but does no good.
I’d counsel each to buffer attitude.

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Local Love

With gratitude I look around today
at nothing local loud, abrupt or rude.
There’s no event or torment here, I say
with gratitude.

Asked if I’m looking forward and imbued
with eagerness for family and play,
in truth that doesn’t really fit my mood.

But getting there and being there’s okay.
I love them, and I’m mindful to include
a planned returning home, that lets me sway
with gratitude.

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Some Loveliness

A little stale becomes my poetry
if I too often write that senses pale,
and how fatigue retards my energy:
a little stale.

It isn’t news that sinews start to fail
this many years beyond maturity.
There’s rarely fuel or wisdom mined from “ail.”

On foot today, I’m seeking no epiphany.
I hope to capture beauty on the trail,
and post it here, intending not to be
a little stale.

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A Gentle No

Encountering a canvasser outside
my neighbor’s door, a woman tall and old,
who offered talk and postcard, I replied
with “No” and gently said I’d not withhold
that card from the recycle bin. “I’m fried
for now with politics, my stress controlled
by abstinence. I’ll re-engage a while
hence.” She nodding only left a smile.

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Vestibules

It’s seldom that I slumber through the night.
I gave up cannabis, and I’m so old
I wake up oftentimes. Such sleeping light
makes several opportunities, all told,
to linger between dream and conscious sight –
a zone of interest, semi-self-controlled.
Such vestibules I frequent, where I find
fresh entertainment furnished by my mind.

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If Only

If only one could engineer a bit
of self-esteem for complicated youth.
It’s like a magic feather, amulet,
or token from a fortune-teller’s booth,
encouraging all flights appropriate.
I’d lend the recipe, but here’s the truth –
you’d better try to open, to achieve
the grace that might await, if you’ll receive.

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The Garden Today

This time of year the garden overgrows
encouraged by the sunlight and the hose.
I’m quite content among the green I chose,
and former-neighbor gifts of plum and rose.

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The Compliment

She called me “stalwart,” and the compliment
remained in mind as I walked home with food.
Behind me in the checkout line, she sent
the syllables at me and tipped my mood.
She seemed my age, and neither weak nor bent.
Her query “Are you walking?” wasn’t rude.
Her friendly tone conveyed a trace chagrin,
and acted on me like fresh oxygen.

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Ambiguity

I’m sure you pressed CAPS LOCK by accident,
when you responded emailing to me.
We have no quarrel and you never meant
to mimic ransom-note hostility.
But it looks harsh, no matter your intent.
I think regarding screen, we should agree,
because there’s ambiguity by word,
to read in negativity’s absurd.

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Conundrum

On one hand, I have learned to patiently
abide, for change comes slower every year.
But then again each day’s a gem to me,
and I don’t want to spend one passively.
I aim to plumb the puzzle till it’s clear,
by clue amazing, talisman or spear,
the way to balance temporality.

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