A Longer Slower Way Around

Posted on August 4, 2024 by sputterpub

When I was in my prime, I used to ask
myself each morning what I had to do –
what couldn’t be delayed? Which timely task
required my attention, and when through,
just how would I reward accomplishment?
What treat would I enjoy when I was done?
I tried with sweet indulgences, but went
for extra time, on couch or in the sun.

And now I’m old that concept I renew;
there is no benefit surpassing time.
I’m blessed when I leave early to pursue
an errand, a commute, a perfect rhyme.
I’m taking longer getting where I need.
I’m substituting mindfulness for speed.

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Up Garber

Posted on August 3, 2024 by sputterpub

I hurt my foot and backed off walking much.
I missed it, but my age I don’t forget.
Now after several weeks I’m back in touch
with stamina – I know I’m not dead yet.
I’m lengthening my effort lately, such
that I decided yesterday, the set
of 50 steps was not too steep to stop
me. Pausing twice, I made it to the top.

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I’m Not the Kind

Posted on August 2, 2024 by sputterpub

“I’m not the kind of person who does that”
a dear friend often says, and every time
my brain a little wonky goes, our chat
derailed a moment as within I chime
with “Kind? Are you a template? A format?”
A person is a person. It’s a crime
against all sense regarding self as type,
like aiming for authentic (canting hype).

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Fact/Fantasy

Posted on August 1, 2024 by sputterpub

I first discovered Greek mythology
when I was 12, permitted on my own
to Saturday-ransack the library,
and cycle home with books to read alone.
Outside or in my room with fantasy,
I was content, inspired, charmed and well.
I’d moved from fairy tales and soon would be
beguiled romantically in Austen’s spell.

But when it came to choosing where I’d tread,
I didn’t wait with faith for perfect end.
I took the best on offer then, instead;
pragmatically I’d learned to comprehend.
If otherwise, like her I might have been:
unfruitful, sour, waiting to begin…

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Bad Family

Posted on July 31, 2024 by sputterpub

Imagine Mom abed at 70,
a drinker all her life and smoking still,
who spoiled both her kids, so presently
one’s slowly dying and the other will
a little later, yes, but all can see
the path is clear for alcohol to kill.
Each one’s alone and may decease, my guess is –
three needless deaths at three discrete addresses.

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Moderating L & K

Posted on July 30, 2024 by sputterpub

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

Posted on July 29, 2024 by sputterpub

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

Posted on July 28, 2024 by sputterpub

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

Posted on July 27, 2024 by sputterpub

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

Posted on July 26, 2024 by sputterpub

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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