Synchrony

Posted on July 12, 2024 by sputterpub

I bought my cottage 18 years ago.
I fancied its seclusion and the site –
it nestles in a corner and there grow
out front varieties of green delight.
There’s peace and quiet here till recently.
The boundaries by which my place is tucked
now sport construction close as it can be.
The future of my quiet may be fucked.

But I don’t advocate no ADUs,
and I’ve lost hearing in the upper range.
Perhaps as I mature it won’t abuse
serenity to acclimate to change.
So far the look and sound of new’s okay.
Adjustment may be in my aging sway.

Posted in Aging, Home, Neighborhood, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Ripeness

Posted on July 11, 2024 by sputterpub

I must have bought too soon. Each apricot
I ate last month was like a tease to me.
The color was inviting, but I got
in flavor an imperfect quality.
The velvet skin and golden tone was not
an indication of sweet pungency.
It took until July for nature’s call;
I brought 10 home and promptly ate them all.

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Past Problems Present Ploys

Posted on July 10, 2024 by sputterpub

I certainly don’t want us to return
to good-old-days when children weren’t heard,
and women knew their place and couldn’t earn,
and Master was a titulary word.
Of mental health we then had much to learn,
but consciousness can generate absurd
degrees of understanding and excuse,
cascading into empathy abuse.

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

Brother Colleague Friend

Posted on July 9, 2024 by sputterpub

A dozen years ago, I put the reins
and office ownership into his hands.
Though time and he have changed it, he maintains
a waning practice. And he understands
enough to earn enough to compensate
himself, another, me for daily call
and half a day there, when I allocate
my effort to preventing someone’s fall.

Diversifying Tuesday so, I heard
his plan to close it in a year and sighed.
To say I’ll miss the labor is absurd,
but I then realized I’d miss him beside
me talking. We devised a new technique –
no matter what, we’ll still lunch once a week.

Posted in Aging, Family, Money Stuff, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Combative

Posted on July 8, 2024 by sputterpub

Whenever I in speech appreciate
a day off after office work or kids,
my interlocutor is bound to state
that nothing in my circumstance forbids
devoting nearly every day to me.
And that was even true ere I retired –
my busyness is picked deliberately;
by diverse occupation I’m inspired.

My words the other day must have revealed
how tiresome her non-advice is, yet
my saying such relief will be concealed
henceforth, was never offered as a threat.
For sure it was no anger that she heard;
her tending so combative is absurd.

Posted in Cognition, Language, Personality, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Alien Aging Lessons

Posted on July 7, 2024 by sputterpub

My mother never taught me anything
I valued. She suppressed my every ask,
regaled with superstitions, couldn’t bring
herself to laughter, ever in a task
or planning more, and even facing death,
the only lesson I derive is not
to mimic her. I will not waste a breath
on gripes. I’ll take the best approach I’ve got.

I’ll ape instead the dog I lived with long:
to use what works and work around the rest.
I’ll self-survey, exert when I feel strong,
and sink to nap whenever that seems best.
I’m grateful for what’s functioning today,
and patient irksome pain may fade away.

Posted in Aging, Family, Health | Tagged | Leave a comment

On Broadway

Posted on July 6, 2024 by sputterpub

An ordinary Tuesday afternoon
except for an appointment down the street,
I walked six blocks, arrived a little soon
and then sat down with whom I chose to meet.
Our business took an hour to complete.
I thanked the banker and reversed my stroll.
The ambience above the broad concrete
was cool in nose and soft upon my soul.

Posted in Neighborhood, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Gratuitous Nastiness

Posted on July 5, 2024 by sputterpub

It isn’t meet to always voice complaint.
I watch you pick minutiae like a sweet
confection you ingest without restraint.
It isn’t meet.

You needn’t be enraged at someone’s tweet,
or accidental overcharge. You taint
your talk with bullying, or snarling bleat.

And bolstering your gripe, you like to paint
your wallet powerful. So I’ll repeat
what you won’t hear, although the line’s not faint –
it isn’t meet.

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Yoga for Writers

Posted on July 4, 2024 by sputterpub

I try to practice yoga every day,
for finally I’m old enough to get
the value in its calling for outlay
of energy less frantic than a set
of heart-sped effort metered for display.
And yesterday’s has underpinned this rhyme –
the posing picked for writers was sublime.

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Admission of Arrogance

Posted on July 3, 2024 by sputterpub

Although I sort this work, I haven’t yet
produced selected stanzas on a theme,
a chapbook or a comprehensive set.
But I could issue volumes on the stream
of my friend’s arrogance. To not forget
a moment when she saw herself, extreme
and cocky, and confessed (last Sunday) flaws,
impresses me and gives these iambs cause.

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