Slam

Posted on March 5, 2024 by sputterpub

I’d love to talk about the other K –
how orbits of dependents have been skewed,
and what the friend abandonments convey,
suggesting flaws in view and attitude.
I’d like to think aloud about a choice
a dear one made, apparently impelled
by pain, who didn’t let another voice
resound against opinion fiercely held.

I want to share these subjects with the friend
I’ve talked to longest – from our college youth
to this age, but I can’t ignore the trend
she now exhibits – “speaking her own truth,”
by hector-lecturing my hearing sore.
Her rant-interrogations slam the door.

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

Like a Traffic Cone

Posted on March 4, 2024 by sputterpub

The crate appeared last week and blocked the path.
My neighbor’s name was on it, but inside
it was a puzzle. Though I took a bath
before I left, the box did not subside,
and it still towered unidentified
until the morning light revealed, unpacked,
an outdoor fire place. My eyes descried
a giant cone in flaming tone, in fact.

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

Better Than

Posted on March 3, 2024 by sputterpub

Although I didn’t sleep enough last night
(awake from 3 to 5, I read a lot),
and though I had a headache near my right-
side temple, I’m discovering I’m not
performing poorly. Finding that I’ve got
sufficient stamina for exercise,
sufficient brain and less of morning snot,
my smile’s 3 parts thanks and 2 surprise.

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

More Ocean Breathing

Posted on March 2, 2024 by sputterpub

A bladder of burlap has settled on shore,
a sandbag that’s lost all its fill.
With each ebbing wave it’s inflated once more –
then breakers deplete it until
it’s flattened on sand and conforming to floor.
So I am inspiring, withdrawing, to spill
my exhalation soft on pebbled ground,
my breath a measured tidal pulse of sound.

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

Judgment from a Childless Friend

Posted on March 1, 2024 by sputterpub

Although we didn’t plan the pregnancy,
we welcomed it with pride and gratitude.
And 8 months later, we learned how to be
engaged in work more vital than we dreamed –
an unremitting labor: infancy
to kid to teen, unglamourous and tough.
Of course there were some signs we failed to see,
our vision by fatigue and closeness skewed.
You call that arrogance? Try empathy.

Posted in Family, Love, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Sycamore

Posted on February 29, 2024 by sputterpub

Encountering a bole of sycamore,
it stopped me as it often has before.
I touch its textured bark, its patterned scale
like camouflage or puzzle pieces, pale
beneath and shading gray to green. It’s plane
elsewhere, and pollarded in parks, but range
from root to upward, outward, fills its frame,
and root in Middle English is its name.

Posted in Flora, Neighborhood, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Pro Anxiety

Posted on February 28, 2024 by sputterpub

Her meanness can’t be keeping her alive,
but maybe it’s the boon anxiety
unmedicated prompting her to thrive.
Last night I screened a documentary
on Xanax and its kind, that let me see
disquiet triggers minds to process more,
while meds depress the brain’s activity,
and steady doses could lose aging’s war.

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

Positively Negative

Posted on February 27, 2024 by sputterpub

As often as I don’t know what to do,
a little time permits some clarity.
And though I’m still without an active view,
the path I’d shun cedes all opacity.
I’m certain then where I don’t want to be,
like out tonight for food and drink with you.
I choose my couch and not your company;
it’s selfish angry chatter I’ll eschew.

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

Slow and Gentle

Posted on February 26, 2024 by sputterpub

I think I might have balanced overlong
on my left leg (I wobble since the day
I misstepped on my stairs – I’m not as strong
on port as starboard), for it’s with dismay
I sense an ache in hip, a twinge that’s wrong
in outer knee, and while I will not stay
off exercise, this morning’s choice is slow
and gentle senior-sanctioned yoga flow.

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

Anticipating Today’s Matinee

Posted on February 25, 2024 by sputterpub

I want a play that’s more than talking heads.
Aboard for stagecraft and a gripping plot,
impressed with how the sound and lighting sheds
significance, I think today I’ve got
a ticket to performance that will not
be boring. They may give me what I ask –
a multi-level set, a script that’s hot,
a matinee that’s worthy of my mask.

Posted in Personality, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment