Monthly Archives: February 2022

Days Full of Nothing

fiddle, faddle
piddle, paddle
a bit of this, a touch of that
inside, outside, inside out
here and there and all about
this way, that way, sideways too
weeding, whacking
a click and… snap
time to take a morning nap
front door, back door
up on the roof
crank call from a telephone booth
up and down and all around
highs and lows and lost and found
hot and cold
and polished gold
through the garden
up to the hedge
wave and smile and chat awhile
chirp, chirp, chirp
across the sky
stop to watch as the sparrows fly
by and by, a dreamy sigh
spinning, swirling, shaking so
back outside to watch the show
soon the sun will start to fade
ending yet another day
twinkle, twinkle little star
daddy thinks its in the car
down the stairs and out the door
be right back to try once more
left and right and in between
catch my breath and stop to lean
against the stairs but for a sec
the day has vanished oh so quick
back and forth and up and down
wipe and rinse and nearly drown
one, two, three, from a to zed
time to fall into my bed
slowly drifting out of sight
lost in dreams throughout the night


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Vladimir the Terrible

With the criminal actions of Vladimir Putin and the Russian Federation, the world is less safe today. Democracy, freedom and the stability of Europe are threatened by the unprovoked invasion of Ukraine. The world must respond harshly and without waiver in condemning the despicable act of war initiated by a tyrant and bully. This may seem abstract and distant to many in the West, do not be lulled into a false sense of security. Russian aggression and our responses are being watched by China and other threats to human rights, freedom of speech and the very core values of free and democratic societies. Now is the time for the international community to show these despots that our resolve is strong. Stand strong for Ukraine, Europe and for freedom everywhere.

Vladimir the Terrible,
Has he gone insane?
At the word of a madman
Tovarishchi Putin Ukraine.

Across the border
At lighting pace,
With an F. U. to the world,
“I Putin your face!”

To the West I implore
You’d best not forpass.
zanimat’sya svoim delom
or I’m Putin nukes up your ass.

For his reckless actions,
International sanctions he’ll face,
But with Beijing behind him
He won’t be Putin his place

No time to be insouciant,
We must stand up as one,
Thumb our noses at tyrants
And with Putin be done.

For this act of war,
He deserves a beat down,
or a dose of Novichok
For to be Putin the ground.

tovarishchi (товарищи) – Russian for “comrades”
zanimat’sya svoim delom (заниматься своим делом) – Russian for “mind your business”


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Twelve Steps

“I knew it was going to be one of those days,” Jeannie started. “When I pulled back the curtains, the bright blue of the spring sky burned in my eyes and my temples pounded — boom / boom / boom — from the wings of a butterfly that fluttered by the window and too much cheap wine.

“I didn’t think it could get any worse,” she continued, “but my mouth dropped open when some dark haired naked dude stepped through the bedroom door and into my living room. ‘Babe, what a night; you got da bod and da moves,’ he said in that greasy New York accent I despised.”

“I wished I was a ghost, I wanted to disappear into the weaving of the couch fabric. Unfortunately, I can recount too many stories like this one. I was scuffling and knew it, I’d hit rock bottom. That is why I am here seeking help. I am Jeannie and I am an alcoholic.”


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Woman

A pinch of sugar
For lips so sweet,
And cinnamon spice
For fiery heat.

Down of milkweed
For skin pure as snow,
And petals of rose
For cheeks, red blush glow.

Essence of lavender
For a fragrance divine,
And sweet golden honey
For locks of sunshine.

A strand of pure saffron
For a heart, solid gold,
And a drop of youthful water
For to never grow old.


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The Waiting

The tick of the clock
     slams like a hammer
     against Arianne’s eardrum.
Her eyes growing heavy
     as the itinerant sun slips
     towards the western horizon.
Endless reds, oranges and yellows
     spill from the heavens,
     onto the blue canvas sky
Great billowing cloud herds
     transiting the azure ocean are
     set ablaze against the fiery sunset.
Arianne sits by the open window,
     hypnotised by the meadow sages
     bending in the evening breeze.
Luminecent fireflies dance
     leaving fading trails of ghost strings
     amongst the old grey stones.
Whilst wisps of fairy dust swirl
     in the magical air, like lacy strands
     gilding her already flaxen hair.
She know not who the traveller is,
     only that the journey ends
     at the old weathered gate.
How much longer must
     she wait before her
     limit hath been reached.
For as long as she has a heartbeat
     she has sworn to help
     her weary guest reach the finish.


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The Lament of an Older Parent

Having kids when you are young is a very difficult task; I mean, most days you struggle to care for yourself. Christ, you’re barely an adult, still trying to reconcile the memories of your parent’s handy work with your naive idea of parenting. Everything is a crisis, usually warranting a trip to the family practitioner or the emergency room. Nothing is more embarrassing than waiting six hours to watch a doctor slap a band-aid on a scraped knee and send you home.

A distance from your own upbringing and the knowledge gathered through life provides you with a sagacious foresight that translates into a more confident parenting experience. The problem for older parents is how tired they are at the end of every day; why do those little rug rats need to be so damned rambunctious!


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For Our Children

From the Latin word for “patchwork,” the cento (or collage poem) is a poetic form composed entirely of lines from poems by other poets. Definition of the poetry form taken from poets.org

Suddenly there came a tapping,1
Out of the night that covers me.2
Who are these coming to the sacrifice,3
With throats unslaked, with black lips?4

We wear the mask that grins and lies,5
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light.6
Though it be darkness there,7
Some say the world will end in fire.8

No man is an island,9
And all the men and women merely players.10
We passed the school where children played,11
And that has made all the difference.12

Footnotes:
1) The Raven – Edgar Allen Poe / 2) Invictus – William Ernest Henley / 3) Ode to a Grecian Urn – John Keats / 4) The Rime of the Ancient Mariner – Samuel Taylor Coleridge / 5) We Wear the Mask – Paul Laurence Dunbar / 6) Dover Beach – Matthew Arnold / 7) There is another sky – Emily Dickenson / 8) Fire and Ice – Robert Frost / 9) No Man is an Island – John Donne / 10) All the World’s a Stage – William Shakespeare / 11) Because I could not stop for Death – Emily Dickenson / 12) The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost


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