Category: Poetry

Dear Granny,

Saturday

on the way

to that big box store

you loved to frequent

glimpsed a bunch of

stuff

to the right

on a street

lined with houses

and just like that

you were riding shotgun

telling me quick turn around

i told you – no – you know

that’s not a good idea

you laughed

and i cried

it was all of $30 bucks

for a small blue table

that i’d put on the porch

for a plant

and a child’s wooden chair

that was perfect for a puppet

and the basket had a lid

that could be used for a picnic

or storage

and the bag of paperbacks

i know jest who to give that

to

and the pink beaded earrings

were just because

like the sparkly pin

and the painting

you ended up riding along

to the store, too

Christmas in October

they got all the stuff out

already

i told you – no – you know

that’s not a good idea

you laughed

and i cried

a buggy later

we drove to

the craft store

and left with a Lemax

house

already decked out

for Christmas

a granny sitting in the window

waiting

for the little kids outside

to barrel through

the door

TL

Grief

the glass shine

of the water

shimmers in the night

a boat goes by

then it’s gone

the tracks cut the water

leaving a long trail

behind

TL

September

unmarred

by time

only love

TL

Empty

i sit

in my car

in the drive

way

and listen

to the wind

it’s September

the falling of leaves

and the drying of grass

and there’s no rush

to go inside

life will never be

the same

i fear i won’t

adjust

TL

In the Frame

i keep

searching

for a way

out

picking things up

and putting them down

rummaging through the mess

looking for a clue

the map is not on paper

life has a pattern to it

or does it

think you only get to know

so much

then it’s a

blur

the mind is a mystery

that holds the heart

…

she sketched the roses

and put them in a vase

and colored them red

and the stems green

and placed ‘em on a table

in a room with a window

where she colored the sunlight

yellow

the beams flooded the room

reaching out toward the roses

but she forgot to put water

in the vase

or did she

for water is clear

and the roses

after all these years

are as rosy red

as the day she thought them up

and put them on paper

and handed them over

for me to keep

and i can hear her now

laughing

and running around

“of course i put water in the vase …

can’t you see it – it’s right there”

i nod my head

yes

i can see it

now

TL

Time-less

i tell

my

self

i won’t be

sad

but been

this is different

than death

i know death

when dad died

it was sudden sorrow

that shatters you

in a second

when Granny the Great died

three Sundays ago

it was childlike sorrow

that changes the ground

you walk on

this is not like

that

this is sitting in sorrow

in a heightened sense

of loss

where time is

time-less

all the words

go back

into the alphabet

letters in a line

all the numbers

go back

to 1

there’s a voice

that talks

and a voice

that listens

taking it all in

in a heightened sense

of wonder

the bundled baby

is aware of the world

the world within a world

constantly changing form

a mirrored self

from this

to that

to else

when it rains

where does it go

you look up

then down

were it not for rain

where would we be

but a seed

asleep

that never knew

the sun

TL

Clouds

hung the clouds

high on the line

and wrung ‘em up tight

twisting

both day

and night

‘til the drops

no longer

fell to ground

and the wind

blew through

like whitecaps

over the blue

TL

Dorothy

she was

running through a field

of red poppies

but got really-really-really tired

somewhere

along the way

and had to stop

and catch her breath

and put her hand up

to her head

she turned to the Scarecrow

and told him

that she just needed to lie down

and rest

for a bit

she was just too sleepy

to go on

she called out for Toto

as she staggered

and fell

into the flowers

but the Scarecrow refused

to let her go

and give up

so easily

he kept pulling her along

for they had come

so far

been through so much

together

and they were nearly almost there

they could see Emerald City

shining like the sun

in the distance

the road of gold just ahead

they were so close

they could feel it

and yet so far

away

the Tinman began to cry

weeping loudly

as the Lion yawned

and agreed that a nap

sounded really good

right about now

the weeping Tinman yelled out for HELP

but the Scarecrow scolded

and told him it was useless

nobody would hear him

but then abruptly he changed his mind

and joined the Tinman

yelling out HELP HELP HELP

and from her magical-mystical-memory-place

Glinda the Good Witch heard

their cries

and gently waved her magic wand

and sent them snow

the Scarecrow was so thankful

thinking maybe it would help

and it did

Dorothy began to open her eyes

and slowly wake back up

Toto did, too

then the Lion stretched and yawned

and woke up

as the Tinman stood still stuck

in rust

when Dorothy saw that

she rushed on over to him

with the oil can

and fixed him up

good as new

they celebrated and cheered and laughed together

dancing round and round

then arm-in-arm

they skipped through the snow

in a field of red poppies

and touched down

upon the road of gold

Dorothy’s ruby-red-slippers

sparkled and shined and shown

as they made their way

to The-Great-All-Knowing-Wonderful-Wizard-of-Oz

who would grant them all

their heartfelt-bottom-of-the-well-wishes

and then some

for as they say

all along

the broken brick road …

There’s No Place

Like Home

TL

Emerald City

at the breath

of birth

it draws its last

in sleep

what dreams

in infancy

the essence

of infinity

heavy roses

in the rain

dried between the pages

of a well-worn book

yellow paint on a brick road

it’s snowing

in a field of red poppies

there Dorothy lies

asleep

her beauty preserved

beneath the globe

of snow

a twist and turn of the dial

winds back the clock

as the music plays

its lilting lullaby

a field of red poppies

swaying in the wind

TL

(written for Granny August 10, 2024)

The Color of Clouds

it’s morning

before the sun

the mist creeps along

quietlike

mindful of the water

it disappears

like a cloud

like smoke

long gone

it’s early July

watched the fireworks

up in the sky

without watching them

you’re in the bed

unable to move

nothing but smoke

now

is this how it ends

after 88 summers

in the sun

i don’t understand

a thing about anything

anymore

TL

Not Done

one

thing

at

a

time

that’s what

i keep telling myself

one

thing

at

a

time

the-year-long-exhausting-heartbreak-process

of selling a business

done

14 years of her schooling

done

a place by the water

done

his hernia surgery

(that we keep putting off)

not done

finding her a safe place to live

not done

coming to terms with her leaving

not done

coming to terms with Granny’s rapid decline

not done

what to do with the house

sell it

keep it

renovate it

rent it

sell it

keep it

build again

buy new

what to do …

yeah, so not done

figuring out the next chapter

of our lives

not done

but yesterday

a small change

went and saw

that Chandu Champion movie been wanting to see

since the trailer

but kept putting it off

and almost didn’t make it

yesterday

was gonna put it off

but decided last minute

to make it a priority

such a small thing

and yet it wasn’t

such a powerful true story

about the human spirit

like all the great sports movies

that were ever made

it wasn’t about the sport

at all

it was about the heart

you gotta have

you gotta have a Lion’s heart

when darkness descends

and it’s hard to find your way

out

want them to go see it

today or tomorrow

‘cause Friday it’s gone

and it’s not the same

on a tube

gotta see it the way it was intended

but talking them into going

will be a hard sell

‘cause it’s not in English

based in India with subtitles

and there’s a singing part they could have left off

but other than that

well worth it

they need to go see it

today

and not put it off

such a small thing

but it’s not …

Not Done

TL

Microchip

he built

the board

from a fragment

layer upon layer upon layer

like a bricklayer

‘til it rose

like a tower

casting a big shadow

on his life

he kept his head down

micro meticulous

he never stopped

long enough

to enjoy the view

from the top of the tower

he only saw

the Work

he would not

he could not

rest

whether a mountain trail

or an ocean view

at night in his recliner

or on his side of the bed

his mind

was still micro

like a winding clock

that would not stop turning

he took every call

checked every email

responded to every text

it was automatic

and timely

he liked being the man

who could fix all the problems

in a tech world

a troubleshooter

who could walk into any building

and lay out a plan

that would light up all the circuits

and have the place humming

in no time

he could remember every password

every code

every module

he spoke a language

encoded

in numbers

flying over the keys

call after call after call

he grew weary

over time

with worry

simple solutions

became more and more complex

within the distance

between his two ears

no matter how successful

he became

it was never

enough

he woke up one day

and decided to put his tower

on the auction block

he’d had enough

and sold it to the highest bidder

but things didn’t go

quite to plan

his tower was supposed

to stand

without him

there

he had set it up

to do just that

but it crumbled

under new ownership

right in front of his face

and there was nothing

he could do about it

but watch it

F

A

L

L

into a cloud of dust

it killed him

all the work

all the sacrifice

all the years of building

something

from nothing

g o n e

the micro in his mind

blinked

on and off

wracked with guilt

he won’t give himself a break

his view different now

he can see things

he couldn’t see then

like divorce does

it gives you perspective

he feels lost

in regret

and memory

there’s nothing to say

that hasn’t been said

each being has to find

their own way

back to themselves

it’s a different type of work

required

a different lens

a different approach

a different way

of being

some people refuse

to do the work

within

and nothing changes

for them

and they stay

as they are

‘til the day

they die

but some people

find a way

within

and continue

to grow

like a garden

well-tended

no matter the season

or the soil

“when you leave something behind …

you gain something, too …” – from the movie: Past Lives

TL

(written June 13, 2024, in my jeep at the park)

Damsel

she was sold

for gold

a daughter of duty

she obeyed the command

to marry a prince

in a faraway land

she’d made up her mind

to sacrifice herself

for the sake of her family

but had no idea

what was about to happen to her

she’s thrown into circumstances

way beyond anything

she could have ever imagined

the shock alone should have killed her

in deep despair

she finds herself

completely and utterly alone

there is no prince

coming to save her

her beauty is of no consequence

in this depth

she has to master her mind

and find the things within

that are essential

to survival

she could not change

being abandoned

but she could change

abandoning herself

TL

Blue Birds Fly

time

is a strange bird

it lands on a limb

and sits there

gauging the wind

the height has to be right

the limb sturdy and strong

the leaves enough

to cover

there’s a lot to consider

before she makes

a nest

after all

eggs are fragile

shells

even in the best of conditions

they break

the bird knows this

but is undeterred

it has seen it

all

on the ground

and in the air

over water

and rainbows

in the quiet mist

of morning

and the quiet dark

of night

in the drumbeat days

and dizzy dance

the seasonal change

this bird knows

what it is

to be cold

and alone

to not know home

in a mortal sense

it only knows

it is alive

and though it is cold

it knows the sun

though it is wet with rain

it knows the clouds

how they change

like the earth

it is never just Spring

so it is happy then

there on the limb

with the buds beneath its feet

soon it will be full

no longer bare

the bird is busy now

building its nest

after gathering the twigs

and twine

she’ll rest

until her eggs break free

then she’ll be off again

finding food

the bird is busy now

the nest is full

filled with song

but not for long

if she does her job

well enough

the nest will be

what it was

the seasonal change

takes course

and birds will lift and land

on limbs

gauging the wind

TL

Departure

it’s late

I hear

footsteps

not pitter-patter

the light

turns on

in the hall

and the door closes

masking the light

and I hear

the click of the lock

and the water

starts hammering out

‘til it gets hot

then the sound of rain

falling

and I lie there

wondering how

I’m gonna make it

through

I can imagine

the silence

the endless silence

as the years stretch forth

been looking at places

with bathrooms

that aren’t down the hall

but across town

it could be worse

she could go

out-of-state

like Boston

or New York

and she still might

but lately

she’s been talking

‘bout sticking around

and maybe going to college

here

so long as

she can move out

and just like that

it goes from pitter-patter

to the rush of steps

out the door

I don’t think she understands

quite

how could she

at 17

she says she knows exactly

what kind of kitchen

she wants

and what kind of bathroom

she wants

I look at the pictures

she shows me

and nod my head

agreeing how nice …

but I lie

in bed

late at night

waiting for the light

to come on

in the hall

and the sound of water

falling

like rain

TL

Umbrella

I give her

umbrellas

but she never uses

any of them

she asked me

one day

when she was little

why do you use them

when you say you love

the rain

why do you use an umbrella

if you say you love

the rain

TL

Sad Bell Pepper

wasted it

when stood there

in produce

picking it out

a glossy smooth

unblemished

apple-like

red one

but left it

on the counter

and forgot about it

for a day

or two

then a week

went by

and another

this morning

I noticed it

how much it’d changed

no longer smooth

and glossy

still red

but a wrinkled-red

softer now

smaller than it was

I picked it up

and turned it over

remembering

how it was

in produce

I took it

to the sink

and held it

under the faucet

shook it

and put it

on a plate

and cut it up

shrugged

and ate it

and it was still

good

no crunch

but it had

a bite

TL

Turn the Lights Back On

after all this time

away

Billy Joel’s back

with his beautiful ballad

that speaks

for every man

out there

who can’t seem to find

the words

every woman

out there

needs to hear

“I was wrong.

I’m late … but I’m here

right now …”

TL

Rose Garden

it’s the 4^th

hour

again

I can hear

the rain

falling

the sound of it

wakes me

and lulls me

to sleep

it’s been a week

of rain

sheets of it

I pull the curtain back

and listen

the ground is saturated

with salt

a good day for mushrooms

and bulbs

but not pinecones

they clam up

like a turtle in its shell

wonder where the birds go

when it rains this hard

supposed to be an early spring

my favorite time of year

when everything’s in bloom

love is in the air

go to any grocery store

and it’s there

a pop-up rose garden

marked up on Wednesday

reduced by Thursday

dead in the vase

before March

it’s been a year already

turning the corner

the road ahead

untraveled

we’re all searching for something

shuffling stuff

around

trying to figure out the best

placement

what to keep

what to throw out

it’s subjective

do you cut the rose

or leave it

be

TL

Crossing the Line

she’s blinded by

love

and wants to hold on

to that Super Bowl feeling

so she ignores the red flag

on the field

the-in-your-face-one

that shoves

and screams

and shows

a side

‘ya never knew

but now ‘ya know

all you need

to know

somebody show her

in slow-mo

TL