All Hallows Eve draws near
Lining up the livestock for slaughter for winter stores was
Linked to the ancient festival of Samhain. A time when
Otherworld borders were thin allowing both spirits good and evil in.
Warded off by guising on this
Evening to celebrate the Celtic
World Cup guesser dies
Paul the famous octopus
From The Australian:"The world's most famous octopus, the underwater Nostradamus, the eight-armed cephalopod prophet of the football pitch, has died in his German aquarium. The good news, foul play is not suspected."
and flashes hot before your eyes.
Doesn’t ask permission
will do as it pleases
then strip teases
leaving you broke
red in the face
without remorse, a sore disgrace.
bleeds in the pan
from the vine
on the sand
wraps your wrist
in a twist
trails cut glass
sub atomic mass
Mom is a kleptomaniac.
She steals shiny baubles
from the jewelry counter at Sears.
She can’t afford
but has plenty of
different colored handbags
to match every outfit.
She doesn’t do yard work.
Instead of roses and tulips
has weeds and poison ivy
Taking things is her way of
Especially now that they‘re saying
he’s got that old-timers disease.
So Sis, watch her
the next time we go shopping
just don’t tell her you know.
Cirque du Soleil—Love
is a kaleidoscope
wrapping the senses.
It's peace and love, warm and fuzzy
reminding me of the musical genius
of John Lennon whose life was cruelly extinguished
outside his New York City apartment by a
monster with a gun.
A monster whose wife I met at church in
Hawaii, a devout unassuming woman. Still going
to work each day,
It’s the part in the middle
I’m not too sure about
It should be fun—funner, more fun
than anyone should have!
Three Cirque du Soleil Shows, comedy
and a plethora of female nude art
using color, subdued light and geometry.
people watching, sitting by the pool
slurping sodas, slapping sunscreen
on, shoveling through the desert
with a big spoon, going back for seconds
and then walking it off. Staying up way past
my bedtime far into the neon night
watching the stars line up
that the magic roll of the dice
will levitate and rip through
the crack in the facade.
A brilliant three minute speech
reigns in the right hemisphere
of my brain. Or is it
the left? No matter
it plans to move to the
correct corner soon.
In the meantime
I wait like
a hopeful puppy
with a pink ball
tossing ideas at the wall
hoping they bounce and snap back
so that I can shine
for a few moments
in the light of acceptance
before the gray balding
man in the back
goes home to daydream
comes up with
a tantalizing verse of his own
and shares it
with the world.
to the back of the house
answering their master’s call.
Who wants to eat?
Hungry, dripping saliva
ears pulled back
trained to wait
until he is finished
scooping out the dry
and finally adding the meat.
they descend quickly
into their meal
inhaling the savory chunks.
Meat is what they hunger for
marinated and cooked
meat not pedigree dry
leftovers for the doves and the mynas
who watch and wait
for the scraps.
Sizeable portions left behind
spilled in distracted haste.
Patient for their turn to feast
to puckishly perch on
metal rimmed bowls
in small semicircles.
cooing at their mates
who gossip above
in the octopus trees
about this morning’s
The Craftsman Wet/Dry vacuum
inhaled a yard of dirt and grass
from the garage floor on a sucking rampage
leering at the treadmill and weight equipment
freshly wiped down with ammonia
baying at the bottom
of two mirrors sprayed with Windex
dried to a streak free shine.
It howled inside the gold Hyundai
leaking soapy residue on the chipped cement floor
then pulled me to the Studio
where it jumped at the dusty cobwebs
spiders and centipedes
dead and alone.
now that it
I smell the sweet ginger
lei hanging from my office door
another birthday gift
from my son.
It makes me proud to be his mom
proud that I went last night
to something W A Y
out of my comfort zone
a poetry slam
where the average age in the room
put me into the mold category
but mold nonetheless. I loved meeting Kealoha
waiting in the wings
having my name called out, I loved that I was spot-on
my delivery, my timing.
And guess what
they gave me a 10
and some eights
and a seven point something or other
but H E Y, I did it.
I got up in front of
total strangers; the hot, and the self-righteous
the chubby and the unprepared.
and I delivered my lines and I forgot about being nervous
because I O W N E D that stage
I owned my poem
I owned my precious three minutes and
ten seconds and no one booed or hissed
Or said get off the stage Auntie.
And there was real talent in the room
Real honest-to-Jesus talent and it lifted me up
enforcing my belief in my new religion
A warm and fuzzy peach in the eye of the storm
And I saw Liz Soto of Youth Speaks
and I thanked her for being my inspiration
Mentioned her name on stage and she thanked me for that.
And we hugged.
My husband Tommy even said He was proud of me.
That you poets are C R A Z Y
but that I showed spunk, that in spite of everything
I did get up and perform my poem
that I had practiced for weeks, polished like a diamond.
I think it caught him off-guard.
He said, that ten o’clock was way past his bedtime
that was why we had to leave before the end.
Before the esteemed author, Karen Finneyfrock, had
completed saying what she came there to say.
I heard her first three poems though.
And I was glad I did.
Because I K N O W I heard
what I was supposed to hear.
And well the rest will come soon
because I am a champion
not a quitter.
And free styling or practiced
It is MY TIME.
So step aside slam poets
plan to perform paperless
because I am here now
and my strong words