Barbel 15.11

Thirteen
and in love
with a new boy
every day on Face Book.
Posters of Justin Bieber
hang in her bedroom
soon to be replaced by the latest teen idol.

She is the hot one
in her crowd
and likes being the
center of attention.

Silver braces line her teeth.

Her bright eyes
one blue
one brown
and long blond shoulder length hair
will make her Dad
pace the living room
in a few more years.

Right now
she’s still into sleepovers
with her chubby
girlfriends
and swimming at the town pool.

Karl 15.10

Karl

is a bear of a man

owns his business.

He is the man to call when
you need heat in the winter
and AC in the summer

He charges more for his time

because he’s good, damn good.

He is a proud man
honest and
has integrity

so long as you pay him.

Competition is fierce
and cash flow
a constant juggle

although he is
pretty good at
balancing work and play.

An agreeable man
he enjoys his imported beer

retired from both the Army and National Guard

he was stationed in Germany
he has siblings there
family means everything to him
since his mom and brothers escaped
from his wife-beater father

and moved in with his step dad.

Food is a comfort
after a hard day of service calls
and since he quit smoking

as it is with Heather
their stout gray cat
who demands breakfast
at six a.m.
scratching
at the bedroom door
her tail swishing to and fro
in cadence with clock
as it chimes at the hour
every hour

Ding, Ding, Ding, Dong
Ding, Dong, Ding, Dong
DONG, DONG.

He is married to Sabine
his soul-mate.

Crystal 15.9

The oldest
most world wise
writes it all down
She digs out the old

foundation exposing the rotten wood replacing it, careful to maintain the integrity of the structure, a painstaking process, as she crafts and starts to build a new stronger base discovering along the way how the cement was first formed, alert to to how the form needs to be outlined first reading the instructions and then mixing the sand and gravel then slowly adding water building layer upon solid layer smoothing the surface until it is compacted and firm. A sly sally she knows exactly what needs to be shown and what should fall away hidden, the work means everything to her.

The work paves the way.

She is not to be fooled with.

Her short cropped light brown hair
exposes a few gray roots
her penetrating blue eyes
see the cracks.

She is the athlete

tough and tenacious
willing to bend
but only so far
her roots grow deep
and she remembers everything
separating the reality
from the fiction
separating herself
from the characters
within her fragmented past.

The others inside her sleep
and remain silent for now.

Sabine 15.8

is Playboy material

her blunt cut flaxen hair
parted in the middle
frames an oval face.

Sharp blue eyes
question everything.

She is the queen in her castle
complete with central air
and vacuum
sucking out the waste
transferring it
to face again at a later date
a perpetual motion
defining the orbit of her existence.

A mom to a teenage girl
who looks more like sixteen
she does it all
from house painting to
to riding the tractor and
when she’s done at home
she cuts the lawn
for her mom
risking poison ivy and snakes.

She feels trapped
but resigned to staying
in everyone’s good graces
for another summer
as the thunder builds
and echoes
a warning
of an impending cyclone.

Carolla 15.7

is the middle child
a fighter and
an ex smoker
often noticed for
her Dolly Parton-like bosom.

Short and fierce
she breaks through the bull
divides her time
between
FOX NEWS
and QVC

her zealous tongue
encouraged
by her
redneck husband.

She works at the school cafeteria
mostly for the medical
suffers from
allergies and snores
like a lumberjack.

A new grandma
she proudly carries
pictures of the baby
in her wallet

along with
her menopause badge
and a silver revolver
with a pink pearl
handle.

Gisela 15.6

She doesn't hear them anymore.

Her attention is held captive
by wishful thinking.

Her sparkling blue eyes have turned gray.

Buxom and petite
wearing last years
bargain basement
matching dress and hat
she stubbornly
wait for Godot.

Lost in yesterdays
rotary dial
and rabbit ears
fearful and furious.

He has scolded away
her innocence.

She still works for nickels and dimes
to regain control
convinced
that it really doesn't matter
that she still has to work
that her brothers and sisters
don't write.

Fifty years
ignored away
as fine.

Sometimes she takes things
shiny beads
a ring
briefly
satisfying her hunger
though
more and more
thirsty now
for the fermented white grape
and her arthritic
ankles and fingers
ache from the damp.

Horst-- 15.5

He can’t tell them what he wants

lost inside another vodka fog
sneezing green balls of phlegm
into his palm while
searching for Kleenex.

His hairless
white belly
distended inside a white t-shirt
overlapping beige
shorts, the only pair that he can find,
as he mechanically belches
and squeezes out farts
that would’ve put Hitler to shame
as he starts to sing from another old German opera
unable to resurrect his youth
failing to amuse his
sedated audience.

Happy hour begins at eleven
in his tiny world
and continues
long into the night
every night
as he salutes the setting sun
with cracked deformed nails
constipated and
cursing at his bad luck

and to anyone who will listen

pausing for a moment as
he tries to ingratiate himself
on a practiced widow
down the hall from his room.

Shadow Art--15.4

Tall black silhouettes

mirror serious imprint

sandy exposure.

Therapy 15-3

Up at seven
I pull on my swimsuit and head out the door
ready to tackle the group.
Armed with advice and witticism
our conversation like the bright morning sun
is circular
our walk
mired in the tide pools
of rationale and comfort zones.

The old thread that ties us together
is strong
a crocheted blanket dragged from birth
pacifying our discontent
deflecting our resolve.
repeating the sequence each morning
unable to decipher the combination
digging up ancient history
wanting in
unable to find
the entrance
blocked from my view.

Eric-Acrostic 15-2

E-Z Does It at 41,
Ready to party and have some fun
Italian pizza piping hot and
Chocolate ice-cream hits the spot.



Happy Birthday!!!

Meet Me in Maine 15-1

Meet me in Maine

by the shore
I’ll watch the birds
learn some words
hoot and holler
leave some dollars

vacationing with family.

And forget about
writing poems
the rhymes will keep
till I get home
and dig my toes
into the sand
hanging loose
getting tanned

It’s time to go
eat lobster rolls
and for a stroll
then play some cards
and have some laughs
for time sure flies
and that’s a fact.

Unlocking Memory

Witnesses flood perceptions door
banging to get in
plagued by
an impermeable strain
of
dementia
distorted
and dissected into
quantum realities
as facades crack
and begin their
ascent
gasping for air
fearing the vacuum
housed inside their
glass containers.

Time Traveler

Driving back
into a dark overgrown jungle
pushing past awkward and wild

to where the truth lies

rooted deep

impassive
like a tall oak
cooling me
from the blistering sun
as leaves begin to fall away and
expose old scabs
piling offerings
damp mounds
dormant and unruffled
waiting for a familiar face to
burn them on the alter
and appease the gods
applying the salve
soothing the ache
that gnaws
like a fungus
mushrooming
white circles on the lawn.

Breaking the Fast

Piping hot coffee warms
my innards
cozy
inside a moss green mug.

Juicy blueberries burst
pushing against
orange cantaloupe
swimming inside a
slippery pool
vying for my attention
tempting me sweetly
from the second shelf
next to a muscled Greek
packing extra protein
blinking
his vanilla honey code.

Kornelia with a K

Kornelia with a K

sat next to me last night on the flight
from Honolulu
but that’s wasn’t all
Kornelia liked to be called Konnie
I had to ask her twice, to be polite
did I hear it right

Konnie with a K?
yes she said, that was right
Kornelia was German
spoke with an accent
her family
originated in that land
where they made the kielbasa

but that’s not all

Kornelia loved living in Hawaii
but it was time for her to go
back to Germany
back to her family
back to school
she’s no fool
Kornelia will be back some day
to the land that paved the way
so send an email, drop me a line
keep in touch for you won’t find
many of us in economy class
so plant your behind, listen up
Cornelia is coming from the back of the plane
and Cornelia, dear sisters, is unrestrained.

Bake, Bake a Cake!

An old German Nursery Rhyme in German and English with a Haiku at the bottom.

“Backe, backe kuchen!”
der Backer hat gerufen
“Wer will guten kuchen backen
Der muss haben sieben Sachen:
Butter und Saltz,
Zucker und Schmaltz,
Milch und Mehl,
Und Eier machen den Kuchen gel.”

“Bake, Bake a cake!”
the Baker called out.
“Whoever wants to make
a good cake,
He must have seven things:
Butter and Salt,
Sugar and Lard,
Milk and Flour,
and Eggs to make the cake gold.”

German rhyme calls back

Happy childhood memories

Bitte, Deutsch sprechen!

(kindly speak German)

Ready to Go

All packed
Breathe deeply
Check list
Determine objective
Early on
Freedom earned
Goals accomplished
Heady thoughts
Ignite memory
Jump high
Kick habits
Leave anchors
Manage choices
Need little
Open up
Pop pretense
Question everything
Resolve approval
Speak clearly
Tackle doubts
Use resources
Value judgment
Work hard
X-ray attitude
Yield for no one
Zealous stance.

Wonder Bread and Klingons

We grew up in a quiet town surrounded by four lakes;
sometimes we'd go hiking and swimming at the fourth lake,
since it was a short walk from the railroad tracks,
halfway between my house
and my cousin Ralph’s
just before the town dump.

Mid summer
the urge to explore
strange new trails became strong,
Captain Kirk and
Mr. Spock were my heroes.
Ralph and I would
set our phazers on stun
and dare to encounter
alien life forms.
it was quiet
except for the odd branch
falling or when our shoes crunched
on a dry patch of leaves,
occasionally a snake would cross our path,
but Ralph would always arm us
with a cap gun
or a long stick with a sharp point
on one end to protect us.

The favorite part
would be lunch,
my chubby cousin
always made sure
that we had plenty to eat.
Being a skinny child,
I was more interested
in the possibility of
running into some
Romulans or Klingons
but when the food appeared
I would inhale it.

One favorite, when my Aunt ran out of bologna and cheese
was cherry koolaide accompanied by
wonder bread and white sugar sandwiches,
the grit of the white sugar
against our teeth put us into orbit
and I would lick the sugar
and let it dissolve
slowly on the tip of my tongue
after showing my
cousin,
who had an annoying habit
of teasing me
for no reason.

Sometimes I would daydream
of him falling down
and breaking a leg
and then I would have to save him
and he would be eternally grateful
and never tease me again, of course
I would have to let him lie there helpless and in pain
for a very long time before I came back,
and risk running into aliens and bears just to teach him a lesson.

The Rose

On a dusty August night in 1974 a rebel rode into the Town of Rosendale in Ulster County, New York on his 750 chopped Honda the chrome was polished and the sissy bar gleaming,

as he parked in front of The Well, where he met Billie Ghoulie, the unofficial mayor who
owned and bartended there. Billie was freakish in his top hat, black cape, and skin tight jeans
but had found his niche and calling. Billie also owned the Astoria, the only hotel in town. The Well had a good reputation and you could find well-known bands like Three Dog Night jamming to “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog” on a Saturday night.
That first night he met and befriended a man named Dirty John and his wife Sue.
Dirty John’s Everything Shop housed both him and that Honda for the next few months
as he quickly made his way through the local town
produce, squeezing and partaking of all the fresh melons
passing on the Astoria—full up for the Labor Day holiday.
Of course, she didn’t know that yet, a good girl, Cheryl was barely out of high school.
Sue had whispered about him
the way he shined like a new copper penny.
He had called her pretty lady, that first night they met
fresh from a hot bath, he didn’t know
he had swept her away
smelling that way.
Not until much later did he recall
that he had stolen
the Rose out of Rosendale.

Self-Loathing

Bruxism


that's what they called it

grinding her teeth

at night while she slept

only one of the nasty habits

she'd picked up

the main reason

she still needed

to unlock those damned doors



Her subconscious

still directing

the plot

tangled

inside a sixties B movie



protecting her

by hiding

the truth

redirecting

her thoughts

leading her

towards the light

but the dark

still beckoned

leaving a slick stain

beneath the sheets

of her memory

like unwashed skin

exuding its distinct odor

she had to find the key

she had to let go of the ring.