Feeding the Boys

They gallop like horses

to the back of the house
answering their master’s call.

Who wants to eat?

Hungry, dripping saliva
tails wagging
ears pulled back
trained to wait
until he is finished
scooping out the dry
and finally adding the meat.

Canines glinting
they descend quickly
into their meal
inhaling the savory chunks.

Meat is what they hunger for
devoured first.
Tonight’s meal
short ribs
marinated and cooked
carefully deboned
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.

Pecking and
cooing at their mates
who gossip above
in the octopus trees
about this morning’s
breakfast menu.

Sad

I should be happy not snappy
a clown

instead I drown in
the stroppy sphere
of tears
sliding bleakly down my
cheeks

a
danger
sign
in the Eden
of my mind.

Cleaning Day II

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.

Napping
this afternoon
now that it
has had
its fill.

Poetry Slam

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
sweet mold
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
are dangerous.

Aiea Loop Trail

4.8 mile loop

Koa and Ohia trees
line tree rooted paths.

Backsplash

San Souci beach wall

wave action prompts photo-op

splish-splash excitement.

Diamond Head Hat Collection

Diamond Head’s rim view

Contributions optional

Trades 5-15

Barter is available

for lithe quick-thinking shoppers.