April 2011
20 posts
2 tags
Poetry Friday
I Met My Soul Mate at a Dog Park
She was telling her beagle, Bill,
to drop the Frisbee he’d stolen
from the wet mouth
of my chocolate lab, Jasper.
Bill wouldn’t relent
so I asked her if she wanted to sit
while the dogs sorted it out.
By dusk, I’d heard about her two years
in the Amazon following
an indigenous tribe like a tamarin
recording their lifestyle as a...
1 tag
Midweek Cuddle
We wrestled
with another coat for Benny
as a breeze carried
dried leaves past his stroller.
He had no use for the coat,
only wanted to hold onto the brochure
he’d taken prisoner for the ride.
The descriptors were a little
over his head, but they tasted
informational and the pictures teemed with auburn, magenta
and other colors eliciting a bah-bah approval
over synchronized arms...
1 tag
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Poetry Friday
A Picture of Religion
I asked him to draw me a picture of religion.
He sketched a woman, ravishing
in a dress the peach of a coneflower
holding a baby like she would cease
to breathe if they separated.
In the background, he added
a fruitless tree and I wondered
if it was a matter of season
or pessimism.
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Baby Penguin Being Tickled →
Midweek Cuddle Bonus Vid
Courtesy of Thought Catalog
2 tags
Boy, 9, uses CPR to save 2-year-old sister →
Midweek Cuddle Quotable
“She’s really beautiful,” he said. “I love her really much.”
1 tag
Poetry Friday
The War at Home
I forgot there are men and women
over there who never relax.
The biggest threat on my road
is that woman applying makeup.
Have I ever been cussed at or pleaded with
in another language?
Not sure, but our lawn guy always waves
when he’s done and his English is improving.
I’ve been to a few funerals
and I’m not really into war movies,
have to turn...
1 tag
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“It’s such a private matter, what poetry does for each of us. The best...”
– Bob Hicok
3 tags
Poetry Friday
Leaving it Behind
The pavement ended, jarring
the truck’s suspension.
I grabbed the handle above the passenger window.
Feeling each rock as the rear view
mirror filled up with dust as thick as fog,
I looked at verdant hills ahead.
As the truck pulled around the final bend,
ranch expanding before me,
horses in the paddock, cattle roaming,
Linens hung on the line
as the children...
1 tag
Recommended Read
How It Is
by Yusef Komunyakaa
My muse is holding me prisoner.
She refuses to give me back my shadow,
anything that clings to a stone or tree
to keep me here. I recite dead poets
to her, & their words heal the cold air.
I feed her fat, sweet, juicy grapes,
& melons holding a tropical sun
inside them. From here, I only see
the river. The blue heron dives,
&...
1 tag
Midweek Cuddle →
Forgot about this one. Great story to come out of the tragedy in Japan. I’ve only heard wonderful things about their orderliness and patience. If this guy doesn’t deserve a cuddle, I don’t know who does.
1 tag
“Once a great wrong has been done, it never dies. People speak the words of...”
– West African Proverb
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2 tags
Poetry Friday
Reasonable Doubt
It was all very convincing,
what with the care put into each rose petal,
the intermingling blues
of the sky and the ocean mid-kiss
at the horizon.
Have you ever stopped at a snowstorm’s start,
holding your arms out to receive each flake’s
baptism?
Those who kept walking, head down
concerned for their cell phone,
missed the steady stream appearing
under...
