Pasta Poem
I’m having PASTA withdrawal, here!
I have a Casarecce condition
an epoch Elbow gripe.
I am a Gemelli guerilla
married to Tommy Tortellini
who happens to be in a numb Noodle narcosis.
I live in petrified Penne poverty.
My revolver is stuck in a Rigatoni riddle
My bullets are ricocheting in a pool of ricotta
swearing in Shell shock.
You are playing with a vile villainess
wandering wired
without any Ziti-- zip
and now you dare tell me
we have no Linguini, no Spaghetti, and no meat for the sauce?
Goodbye!!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Monday, May 31, 2010
Radiant R’s
Radiant R’s
Rabbit racism raises rabid rationale.
Raspberry ravine reaps red recognition.
Recluse recalls recent recital, redacting red herring.
Rose-bush refreshes remote refuge
Rigorous rhododendron receives rave reviews.
Registrar reiterates regrettable regulation resurrecting relic.
Relativity restates relevancy reforming redundancy.
Relax rectum remarks retarded reptile repulsing rhesus-monkey.
Resounding respect resolves resident recidivism.
Resilient response restrains retort rethinking retribution.
Revolutionary Road’s rough rotogravure receives rich rating.
Ribald riddle roams riposte route rippling rote rumor.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Q- Qualifiers
Q- Qualifiers
Quick-witted quack quizzes quintuplet quoting Queen.
Queer quatrain quenches querulous quarter master.
Quilting quiets Quaker questioning quick-step quadrille quandary.
Quesadilla quintessence quiets query quizzing quotidian quotient.
Quixotic quest quashes quetzal quagmire.
QuĂ©bec’s quarters quadruple queue, quickening quid pro quo.
Quinoa quick bread quarantines quickie quean.
Quick sand quells quince quietly.
Quasar quark quantizes quantum theory quantifying quantum mechanics.
Quaint quadruped quiets quavering quail quenching quahog.
Friday, May 28, 2010
P- Pantheon
P- Pantheon
Parrot parapet parallels park peafowl
personalizing pewter phallus.
Peculiarly pleasing peasant pecks pencil perpetually
perplexing pesky pervert.
Philosopher photographs pithy poet pitching poetry.
Polyester position points-at ponderous politician perpetuating polytheism.
Prayer preceding preamble
precludes Presbyterian prenuptial agreement posing pressure-on Prince.
Prehistoric premier prejudges Pleistocene pretty boy
probing proboscis producing profane propaganda
proposing propagation propriety.
Promoter promises proof
prostituting prostrate prosthesis pursuing pyramid scheme.
Pygmy pyorrhea putrefies parsley push-cart.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Oh-O, Opener’s
Oh-O, Opener’s
Overwrought octo-mom owns-up, offs obdurate OB-GYN.
Oblong oboe objects obsequiously-to octet overture overtone.
Octopus officiates-at one o’clock off-the-wall Olympics opening-at October ocean occurrence.
Opinionated opossum operates opposite otter orientation overriding ostrich.
Outlandish ornaments outline outhouse out-back.
Ovum outsmart ovary overtaking ovulation.
Opulent oval opal outshines odious old-maid.
Odometer oddity off-the-record.
Octogenarian oeuvre odyssey obtains offshore ocean oasis oozing oil.
Optimism orbits orchard origami ordaining organic orange order.
Osprey ordeal opens outlook outlawing oversight overseas.
Overrated oxymoron overstays officially overturning offensive octosyllabic offshoot.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Narcissistic N’s
Narcissistic N’s
Ninety nachos nail naked newt.
Nimble nanny goat needles nefarious nematode named Ned.
Name plate nuzzles narcissus narrowing down
nasturtiums to national-seashore.
Nasty neurosis neuters newspaperman.
Nice nun nurtures naughty novice nursing nude novella.
Neighborhood network negotiates negativism.
Nazi naysayer navigates necromancy.
Neap tide notice necessitates noon-time nap.
Near-sighted nymph nibbles navel orange
neglecting nervy newcomer.
Noisy nightingale nips noteworthy night crawler.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Magnetic M’s
Magnetic M’s
Merry mermaid meets media maven, mixing merlot mimosas.
Mongoose muses- on miniscule mirror.
Multiple moose monkey-with moron meditating mindfully.
Magazine makes melee momentous.
Mad madam macramĂ©’s Madonna.
Maggot magnet makes malodorous magpie merchandise.
Melancholy memory merchant mails
mellow music medley moving Makah males.
Malignant makeup malfunction maims mama.
Macadamia nut madrigal moves mademoiselle.
Malnourished muscle manipulating mongrel mystifies masses.
Make-believe memoir makes money maligning mandarin.
Maraschino marriage marbles marzipan.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sign-Clarity Pyramid
SIGN
Local
Hawaiian
A hang loose greeting
in local tongue that means
Shaka brah, Right on tita!
Shaka brah, Right on tita!
“Proudly displayed on vintage T.”
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Two Clarity Pyramids---Mule & Dad
Clarity Pyramid
A poetry form designed and constructed by Jerry P. Quinn (FanStory.com writer Jer4Clarity).
Usually, this poem is center aligned when displayed. The first triplet has 1, 2, and 3 syllables. The title of the poem is the one-syllable word of the
first triplet, which is displayed in all capital letters. This line is followed by a two-syllable line,
and then there is a three-syllable line, both of which clarifies the definition of the poem, or is a synonym for the title.
The second triplet has 5, 6, and 7 syllables. Its design is based around a life event contained
within the triplet which helps give a poetic view or outlook on the first line (title).
The last line is 8 syllables, and is in quotations as this line contains a quote that defines the first
word (title).
A poetry form designed and constructed by Jerry P. Quinn (FanStory.com writer Jer4Clarity).
Usually, this poem is center aligned when displayed. The first triplet has 1, 2, and 3 syllables. The title of the poem is the one-syllable word of the
first triplet, which is displayed in all capital letters. This line is followed by a two-syllable line,
and then there is a three-syllable line, both of which clarifies the definition of the poem, or is a synonym for the title.
The second triplet has 5, 6, and 7 syllables. Its design is based around a life event contained
within the triplet which helps give a poetic view or outlook on the first line (title).
The last line is 8 syllables, and is in quotations as this line contains a quote that defines the first
word (title).
MULE
Donkey
Ornery
Stubborn animal
munches on grassy shoots
rubs rider against rock face.
“Revisiting Kalaupapa”
DAD
Father
Dominant
Tough and tenacious
insists on perfection
iron hands, warm caring heart.
“Dinner on table at five, sharp”
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Chewing Gum-- ABCdarian
Chewing Gum
Already
Been
Chewed gum—yuck I can’t get it off my shoe!
Darn these
Espadrilles Aunt
Fiona
Gus sighed
How is it that
I always manage to attract these sticky problems?
Just give me the damn phone
Kool-Aid’s fine by the way.
Let me just make this call
My cousin phoned he thinks the world owes him.
Now where is that number?
Oh-here it is
PU3-8879
Quite the situation
Really burns my butt
So stupid
That one, he still can’t get a job let alone walk and chew gum.
Unskilled and unorganized
Vacant, vain, vegetable
Worthless, wallowing, walrus
XY misfit, xenophobe
Yowling, yokel
Zigzagging through life like a zombie—SHIT-it’s busy!
Already
Been
Chewed gum—yuck I can’t get it off my shoe!
Darn these
Espadrilles Aunt
Fiona
Gus sighed
How is it that
I always manage to attract these sticky problems?
Just give me the damn phone
Kool-Aid’s fine by the way.
Let me just make this call
My cousin phoned he thinks the world owes him.
Now where is that number?
Oh-here it is
PU3-8879
Quite the situation
Really burns my butt
So stupid
That one, he still can’t get a job let alone walk and chew gum.
Unskilled and unorganized
Vacant, vain, vegetable
Worthless, wallowing, walrus
XY misfit, xenophobe
Yowling, yokel
Zigzagging through life like a zombie—SHIT-it’s busy!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Leaking L's
Leaking L’s
Labia’s labyrinth labeled, laconically lambasting lambda.
Lamenting lady lactates laboriously.
Labrador retriever laments lactic acid lacuna.
Loose language lassos lanky Luddite.
Lantana laced landscape, lauds lavish lawn.
Laxative launches leak, leaving leather-neck leery.
Left-handed liberalism legitimizes lenient levy.
Libra licks licorice lickety-split.
Life’s linoleum loves lemons.
Lint line-up links loge locale.
Lonesome lollipop looms lost.
Loquacious lord lavishes lovely lubricant.
Lucky lunatic lures lusty Lutheran.
Logic lulls loud Lithuanian librarian.
Lyric links lovelorn loggerhead longevity.
Loitering loincloth leaves luau loopy.
Lop-sided looter loses lunch.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Keening K’s
Keening K’s
Kelp keeps keel-boat kaput.
Kama’aina kamikaze keynotes komodo-dragon.
Knockwurst knish kills king-pin.
K--Kaleidoscope kidnaps karmic kick-stand.
Kennel kid kibbles kibitzer.
Kitty kisses knave, knees knight.
Kiwi-fruit kinetics knock-down kinsman.
Knicker kiosk kindles kaffee klatsch.
Kremlinologist kowtows kumquat krugerrand.
Koi kayo klutz.
Knowledgable kindergartener knits kooky knapsack.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Juxtaposing J’s
Juxtaposing J’s
Janitor jettisons jabberwocky jam-session.
Jazzy jaw-dropping jaybird jitterbugs jubilantly.
Joyful judge jots just journal.
Jury junkie judges juicy jellybean.
January juggernaut jumps June juncture juggling July.
Jacquard jukebox jostles junior.
Joe Six-pack’s journey jilts jingoism.
Joe Blow jousts Japanese jack-pot.
Jambalaya jalapeno jazzes jaunty jeopardy.
Jongleur jogs jonquil jungle.
Jockey joneses jeep jenny.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Refrigerator Logic--Six-word Memoirs
Rest in peace, once green veggie.
Activia rules in this frigid closet.
Shut the door, there’s a draft!
Cold closet seeking, warm leftover companion.
Be quiet, the eggs are sleeping!
Age matters, step to the front.
Seal your wrappers, eliminate dry rot.
Old dark companions, foment strange odors.
Soda shoots off mouth, fizzes out.
Check ice tray weekly, for blockage.
Sponsoring green—penicillin, apply in rear.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Fire god
I took this photo last night as I watched the flames dancing in an outdoor pit!
Fire god
You are my drug,
the flame that licks my thighs
and sears me as you
order me about at your whim.
I am caught up in your glory.
I cannot see anything but you.
I do your bidding and loathe myself.
I am a puppet on a string.
I want you to be my friend
but you despise me.
You answer me
with your lies.
Your probing tongue
delivers cold venom,
courses through my veins
on a deliberate track that
hones in
on my heart and mind
with blinding speed,
screaming and
pleading for more,
ALWAYS MORE!
I want to get away from you
but you entice me
with your dual personality.
Your kind side shows itself
and then slips away.
I am riding high on a wave
fierce like a locomotive
lurching past my youth
plunging headlong into damnation
over and over again.
I am in a maze
forever trapped in time
locked away
for safekeeping
in a secret chamber
of your empty soul.
I open my mouth to
scream
and
no one hears.
My fingernails
leave a deep imprint.
Traces of my blood linger
and release another harbinger
intent on
Self-destruction.
My tomb lies broken,
my hairless corpse smolders,
my bones are encased in blistering bile.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Interpreting I’s
Interpreting I’s
Idle iconoclast identifies Icelandic Ice-Man.
Indian ideology idealizes isolated isthmus.
Ill-mannered ibis impede ibex.
Impassioned idiot idolizes imagist.
Igloo irregularity ignites irate investigation.
Immobile iguana immolated, invoking intense image.
Impressionist imprints incestuous incisor.
Indecisive index finger incrusted indecorously.
Indifferent industry initiates injustice.
Insatiable inquisitive inn-keeper inspires insomniac.
Institute instructs intramural interplanetary intercourse.
Insurance intent insults intelligence.
Inner-ear interference invites invention.
Intoxicated intestine invalidates invasive invitation.
Islamic islander irradiates ISBN issue.
Itinerant IUD iterates itself in Italian.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Harpooning H’s
Harpooning H’s
Haiku habit harkens hard-bound harmony.
Hail hallowed halter hanging-on hopeful hangar.
Hands-on handyman harpoons harem.
Happy harp harbor hawks hashish harvest.
Head-banger headquarters heightens heady heat-stroke.
Hello –Herr Heimlich!!
Hilda heralds hemorrhoid hemorrhage halted-in hind-most hemisphere.
Hibiscus hiccup highlights high-technology.
Hexameter hints-at historic hideaway.
Hispanic Hopi Hindu hippy hooks humble Hungarian Hun hunchback husband.
Humor hyperdermic hydrates humanity.
Hyperbole hypnotizes hypersensitive hippo.
Writing Retreat
****Awarded the Rain Bird 2010 Kolekolea Honorable Mention in Poetry
I look forward
each month to return to
Hale Akoakoa
at Windward Community College
for my regular shot of
Lillian,
my special coffee mug
brimming
with her enthusiasm
compelled
to share
listen and
be challenged.
To explore-- this strange new country
called writing,
jam-packed with strong verbs, and syntax
bubbling from a practiced source.
To discover my own special voice.
As I venture
into uncharted
atriums and lanais
sheltered by banyan trees,
while grinding on
chocolate chip cookies
cantaloupes
and cherries.
To boldly go
on a
lyrical expedition,
serenaded
by
cellos
chickens
and a heart stopping
rendition
of cock a doodle doo.
I look forward
each month to return to
Hale Akoakoa
at Windward Community College
for my regular shot of
Lillian,
my special coffee mug
brimming
with her enthusiasm
compelled
to share
listen and
be challenged.
To explore-- this strange new country
called writing,
jam-packed with strong verbs, and syntax
bubbling from a practiced source.
To discover my own special voice.
As I venture
into uncharted
atriums and lanais
sheltered by banyan trees,
while grinding on
chocolate chip cookies
cantaloupes
and cherries.
To boldly go
on a
lyrical expedition,
serenaded
by
cellos
chickens
and a heart stopping
rendition
of cock a doodle doo.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Garnering G's
Garnering G’s
Gallic gadflies gaff gallant gamecock gauging galley.
Garrulous game garners gangplank.
Garden gargoyle garrotes garter snake.
Geisha gets gaudy gazebo, ghastly garden.
Ghetto gentrification gives gauche gatecrasher generous grade.
Gecko geek genially genuflects, gleaning gender.
Glacier glass gleams grace.
Goose gossip grades gradualism.
Group grinds gorp.
Grape gratis greets grimace.
Gross grub groans gruff grocer!
Guacamole gulch guarantees guerilla guidance.
Gutsy Gurkha grasps guava guitar.
Gesundheit--giant germ!
Gleeful girdle give-away, girlfriends giggle gladly.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Forking F's
Continuing on my journey through the alphabet!!
Forking F’s
Fabian faces-off fancy falcon famous for fatal faux pas.
Federal featherweight father’s feral feline.
Ferocious female finds fence favorite feature.
Flaccid ferret flashback’s following festival field-testing flannel.
Filipino film figure fillets Finnish fish, finds fleshy finger tip fondue.
Frisky flirt fondles florid floozy.
Flypaper font foments frenzied folk-art.
Foreign foreclosure foreshadows four-square foul-up.
Frantic fowl free frisky friend.
Frightful four-o’clock fracas fricassees frog.
Fugitive from fudge factory furthers futurism.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Enlisting E’s
FYI--this month , my twelvth month of writing a poem a day,
I'm going through the alphabet--stretching a bit with my friend Merriam-Webster (dictionary)
Enlisting E’s
I'm going through the alphabet--stretching a bit with my friend Merriam-Webster (dictionary)
Enlisting E’s
Engaging elusive elands
enable
enable
elbow room elegance,
embrace emollient emissions.
Emir’s emerald
embroils emissary
eating enchilada.
Endangered enclave ends epic erection.
Elite ermine erase erogenous Elizabethan era evangelizing elk.
Egret elixir experiment explodes exponentially.
Egregious ethernet euphoria excludes
eighty ethnic European elders.
Evangelist excogitates exceptional expletive
exhibits eyeball.
exhibits eyeball.
Ezra extracts
elephantine eyewitness eliciting
elevator elegy.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Dealing D's
FYI--this month , my twelvth month of writing a poem a day,
I'm going through the alphabet--stretching a bit with my friend Merriam-Webster (dictionary)
Dealing D’s
I'm going through the alphabet--stretching a bit with my friend Merriam-Webster (dictionary)
Dealing D’s
Dainty debutante dabbles daily, dribbling drama.
Damask dandelion decor decoded, drawn dominantly defining domicile.
Defiant definition decrys democratic deficit, dividing district.
Diphthong diplomacy doesn't deter dedicated dairyman.
Dinosaur dioxin disease deceitfully delivered disguises dumping duct.
Disagreeable disc jockey drifts dreamlike, drenching druid.
Disclaimer discerned daring Darwin database.
Duplicity duress dysfunction delivers dauntless dead end.
Dry-run disarmament dumbfounds duenna duly dudgeoned.
Damask dandelion decor decoded, drawn dominantly defining domicile.
Defiant definition decrys democratic deficit, dividing district.
Diphthong diplomacy doesn't deter dedicated dairyman.
Dinosaur dioxin disease deceitfully delivered disguises dumping duct.
Disagreeable disc jockey drifts dreamlike, drenching druid.
Disclaimer discerned daring Darwin database.
Duplicity duress dysfunction delivers dauntless dead end.
Dry-run disarmament dumbfounds duenna duly dudgeoned.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Culling C’s
Culling C’s
Captivating carambola caresses
caribou caricature.
Careworn caregiver carves casaba carp.
Caribbean carnage catapults cataclysm.
Cautious cauliflower caws celibacy.
Cerulean cetaceans challenge chimera.
Chimpanzee chimes chilly chorus.
Chrysanthemum cloisonné clearance closeout.
Close-knit clique clones club-sandwich.
Costumed Cossack counts coyote.
Creature craves credit.
Crocodile cultivates cyst.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Bossy B’s
Bossy B's
Bill’s biplane
Bill’s biplane
buzzes blind blond bombshell.
Blowsy blueprint
boasts blue-cheese.
Blue whale boggles
bohemian.
Bonze boos boodle.
Bonny buxom bookworm
butters butcher.
Bumptious Bookie
bugs bookseller.
Boor borrows breast plate
brakes bramble branch.
Biological breach
breeds bucolic buddy.
Bulky buttock
bypasses Byzantine bystander.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Accruing A's
Accruing A’s
Aseptic arm
articulates assertive
abeyance astride
assassin.
Abandoned arboretum abuts
arid archipelago
anticipating anticlimax.
Antique apothecary
appends appalling
Antler art.
Adios, Adieu, Arrivederce,
Auf Wiedersehn
Aloha!!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Paradise Found
I’m calling down my muse.
He’s calling up the ocean’s warrior fish.
The carp swim.
The tilapias continue to breed.
The golden koi fountain shoots water 24/7
calming the inner crimson and
the outside world dissolves
into pink, indigo
and jade.
The days roll by
flipping their tails at us
circling
jumping and splashing
in spring fed ponds
fertilizing
plum orchids
basting orange
bromeliads and
healthy green papaya
dripping
in the sun.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Gray Dawn
Gray dawn yanks down the covers
and proceeds to pour in light
shifting the mask.
Emerald cliffs loom from the shadows
sharp points and dark outlines
line up and
demand recognition
as green splashes against gray
waving at an orange beauty
by the water’s edge
blushing content
finally
from the notice.
Monday, May 3, 2010
MOM--Six Word Memoirs
Calms outbursts tucks hanky in sleeve.
A safe port in fierce storm.
Irreplaceable treasure, guards key to contentment.
Uses Seeing Eye dog when necessary.
Pulls rabbits out of hats daily.
The best medicine, money can buy.
Unpaid cook, maid, and phone operator.
Domestic goddess trained on the job.
Gray hair, chipped nails, bright smile.
Sensitive tornado sweeps away unreasonable conflict.
A safe port in fierce storm.
Irreplaceable treasure, guards key to contentment.
Uses Seeing Eye dog when necessary.
Pulls rabbits out of hats daily.
The best medicine, money can buy.
Unpaid cook, maid, and phone operator.
Domestic goddess trained on the job.
Gray hair, chipped nails, bright smile.
Sensitive tornado sweeps away unreasonable conflict.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
MAY SLips in
May slips in unannounced
humming
bringing style and verve
as last month’s voice loiters
in a sad corridor
released from the cast.
A bouquet of white and purple lilac follows
freshly cut and arranged.
Their sweet scent lingers
long into the night
exciting
young noses
singing
a new song.
humming
bringing style and verve
as last month’s voice loiters
in a sad corridor
released from the cast.
A bouquet of white and purple lilac follows
freshly cut and arranged.
Their sweet scent lingers
long into the night
exciting
young noses
singing
a new song.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Mendacity
Mendacity
detects you from a corner
next to the potted Anthurium,
a poster child for normal behavior
in the ghetto.
It sneaks up and tries to get cozy
then proceeds to suffocate you with an invitation
to ponder
justifying past deeds,lining them up for the firing squad
aiming for the whites, in a sea of gray.
Drowning in delusion
it comes up for one last gulp
one last vain attempt,
to stay alive.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Lawns Horses and Pigs
We moved into our new, old house in 1985.
A new adventure, on
a dead end road in the country,
away from the noise and traffic,
a piece of the rock to call our own.
2.1 acres that we had to rope and tame
rough doesn’t even begin to explain it.
Imagine carving out a lawn with hand tools
and brute strength and doing it after work with lanterns into the night.
It took years to even think about having a lawn,
fifteen years to be exact, by then we had two houses
and a three car detached garage.
Add fruit trees, flowers and a pond not to mention a giant lawn.
Our ancestors would have been proud.
In the beginning we purchased a bull
and went to work.
During the day we had our business to attend to
Roofing and Vinyl siding, when it was slow we painted and did interior renovations, hell we did it all.
After work sometimes by flashlight
we would pull weeds, and hack away at California grass
about six feet high tough and tangled
choking upon itself in the humid tropical clime.
Bully the steer was our first new addition to the family, and then before I knew it we had Billy and Jennifer, two goats and then chickens and roosters, not just any chickens mind you, we had feather dusters. After that the ducks came along, six of them, and they would be joined by six geese, two horses Beauty and Hoku, which you couldn’t ride just one, both had to ridden or else, and I began to think the farm life was for me--except for one thing
I object to ducks swimming in my pool-- too much poop
and with the poop came the flies, so many flies
that I couldn’t enjoy laying out by the pool in the sun after work when I wasn’t doing anything--yeah right!
Oh and did I mention the pig--
did you know that horses and pigs don’t get along?
A new adventure, on
a dead end road in the country,
away from the noise and traffic,
a piece of the rock to call our own.
2.1 acres that we had to rope and tame
rough doesn’t even begin to explain it.
Imagine carving out a lawn with hand tools
and brute strength and doing it after work with lanterns into the night.
It took years to even think about having a lawn,
fifteen years to be exact, by then we had two houses
and a three car detached garage.
Add fruit trees, flowers and a pond not to mention a giant lawn.
Our ancestors would have been proud.
In the beginning we purchased a bull
and went to work.
During the day we had our business to attend to
Roofing and Vinyl siding, when it was slow we painted and did interior renovations, hell we did it all.
After work sometimes by flashlight
we would pull weeds, and hack away at California grass
about six feet high tough and tangled
choking upon itself in the humid tropical clime.
Bully the steer was our first new addition to the family, and then before I knew it we had Billy and Jennifer, two goats and then chickens and roosters, not just any chickens mind you, we had feather dusters. After that the ducks came along, six of them, and they would be joined by six geese, two horses Beauty and Hoku, which you couldn’t ride just one, both had to ridden or else, and I began to think the farm life was for me--except for one thing
I object to ducks swimming in my pool-- too much poop
and with the poop came the flies, so many flies
that I couldn’t enjoy laying out by the pool in the sun after work when I wasn’t doing anything--yeah right!
Oh and did I mention the pig--
did you know that horses and pigs don’t get along?
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Excavating Bones
Inspired by Poem a Day--Academy of American Poets April 2010 and by Spencer Johnson's, "Who Moved My Cheese."
Excavating Bones
Skeleton in ice
gently thawed
and cradled;
hair
and bone
and bone
worn down to marrow.
Frigid strength
icy lover;
your contact sears
callous scrutiny.
I can hear your muffled scream
preserved
in time’s frosty cavern,
concealed in cheese
station C, and me
in E, advanced and alone.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Caterpillar Dreams
Caterpillar Dreams
Inch your way
on tiny feet
climb into the tree of dreams.
You are not yourself
the monarch lurks inside.
Spin
a strong silk pad.
Sleep,
you are not yourself
the monarch lurks inside.
Hunger for
red clover
goldenrod and
fluttering breezes
beneath the cool shade
of the
stately palm.
You are not yourself
the monarch lurks inside.
Awake
from nature’s baptism.
Shed your former skin.
Declare your magnificence.
Dance atop
yesterday’s fragile petals
soar into the callous wind.
Fly
dazzling insect.
Show off your large
tawny orange and black wings.
Rise
potent prince,
wander throughout the provinces.
You are magnificent.
You are Mozart’s Symphony No. 40 in G minor.
Fly brilliant monarch,
Fly!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Compost at Dawn
Up at Three—not a pretty sight!!
They say the older you get the less sleep you need.
I’m here to tell you that they are WRONG whoever THEY ARE.
It is a bald faced LIE.
Those THEY’s need a good bitch slapping
and I know just the person to do the job.
No thinking about it or talking it over--just a grim reaper.
That’s what you get when you mess
with a crazy person—two shots directly
into the brain—no questions
no dilly dallying
just cold hard steel
right between the eyes
and then I’ll go work in my garden,
start a compost pile.
Don’t you love fertilizer?
The flowers love it
I can hear them screaming now
pile it on—we’re starving here!!
And by the way--Have you ever heard of this other element—it’s called WATER!!!
We don’t have any feet or THUMBS,
so if you could just
pay us some attention
we will show you
something nice to look at
tomorrow morning,
when you are still awake
and NOT SLEEPING!!
They say the older you get the less sleep you need.
I’m here to tell you that they are WRONG whoever THEY ARE.
It is a bald faced LIE.
Those THEY’s need a good bitch slapping
and I know just the person to do the job.
No thinking about it or talking it over--just a grim reaper.
That’s what you get when you mess
with a crazy person—two shots directly
into the brain—no questions
no dilly dallying
just cold hard steel
right between the eyes
and then I’ll go work in my garden,
start a compost pile.
Don’t you love fertilizer?
The flowers love it
I can hear them screaming now
pile it on—we’re starving here!!
And by the way--Have you ever heard of this other element—it’s called WATER!!!
We don’t have any feet or THUMBS,
so if you could just
pay us some attention
we will show you
something nice to look at
tomorrow morning,
when you are still awake
and NOT SLEEPING!!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sneaking up on Roosters
They wander the windward campus
clucking amongst themselves.
Searching for the most juicy bug, fighting
for crumbs tossed by meandering poets and writers,
breaking for lunch and a stroll.
Intellectual folk who thirst for
candid photos of roosters
and hens, stray cats, grasshoppers or
even dead centipedes, adjusting optical zooms
and praying for that perfect shot.
The shot that will
inspire; stop them dead in their tracks,
produce sighs and email home clearly, to Mom and Dad.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Contemplating the Wind
The wind rises at three a.m.
still drunk as it rushes about
looking for things to stir up.
It snakes the orange and pink bougainvilleas
as it reshuffles their geometry.
It blusters at the Manila palm
who bend and bow
as it howls at the front door
demanding to be let in.
It spews loose sediment
as it turns away
relentless and finally settles
on a blade of grass
and lifts it up
skipping it across the driveway.
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Call to Reason
The thing about reason is it
gets raped from behind;
leaves too many doors open
to getting your head chopped off.
As an infant, we start out with infinite trust
and if we are lucky we leave this world
relatively intact, abused but whole.
Time is the key.
Since the beginning man
has killed. It is instilled
into our hard drives. We learn how to protect ourselves
from an early age something that never loses its
significance lest we fall victim to indifference, obscurity
and terrorists plotting to infuse us with their religion.
We sit on a lower rung
on the ladder of evolution
pushing all the wrong buttons
pondering the ape/man ratio
erasing unpleasant history from memory
like a crack addict obsessed with getting his next high.
We live in a world where
stupidity reigns alongside legalization
brothers on the same see-saw.
Only until we are able to
subdue these primal urges
will we ever be able to move up
the ladder, whether it be here
or as a future virus on a brand new planet.
Time holds the key.
gets raped from behind;
leaves too many doors open
to getting your head chopped off.
As an infant, we start out with infinite trust
and if we are lucky we leave this world
relatively intact, abused but whole.
Time is the key.
Since the beginning man
has killed. It is instilled
into our hard drives. We learn how to protect ourselves
from an early age something that never loses its
significance lest we fall victim to indifference, obscurity
and terrorists plotting to infuse us with their religion.
We sit on a lower rung
on the ladder of evolution
pushing all the wrong buttons
pondering the ape/man ratio
erasing unpleasant history from memory
like a crack addict obsessed with getting his next high.
We live in a world where
stupidity reigns alongside legalization
brothers on the same see-saw.
Only until we are able to
subdue these primal urges
will we ever be able to move up
the ladder, whether it be here
or as a future virus on a brand new planet.
Time holds the key.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Life in a Glass Bottle
Circa: Earth Day 2010
Life in a glass bottle
Life in a glass bottle
longs for a calming breeze
butterflies and bees.
Hears the pop of
daylight, dawning
as it rises yawning.
Is pitched by cobalt seas
and daring fish that please
to give you the evil eye
and consequences ply
as they nudge you
and toss you in the bay.
But then let us say
that you are not tossed and
Abused by the cost
and still float aimlessly about
and get hooked by a snout
of a humpback whale and her calf
out for a laugh
swimming and diving at play
that manage to avoid the plastic nooses
and glass ball cabooses
aluminum cans, fish net and twine
dumped and left behind for
a poor fish to find
strangled alone on the reef
hooked like a thief in the night
By this human blight that litter and waste
proud and uptight, in childish haste
Now concerned about the earth
pondering its worth
on a planet
spewing rebirth.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
A Mother’s Strength
A preview from my new book Letters To A Prisoner
Crawls on bloody knees to protect her young
Crawls on bloody knees to protect her young
would rather die than betray her child’s blind innocence
chokes on the creaking silence of an unanswered call
lies awake in empty rooms fighting back a flood of tears
summons courage from deserts of dry wells
shows up with a pail of forgiveness every morning
stares down dismay for years on end.
Her love is fierce.
Her love is granite.
She is god.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
GOLF, RAIN, OCEAN
New Poetry Syllabic Form: five lines 7, 4,6,4,3,
designed at Celebrate Reading at University of Hawaii --Manoa
with Brandy McDougall and Mahealani Perez-Wendt
Golf
Trying again to follow
a set of rules
designed by ancient trolls
intent on hard
ball tactics.
Rain
I can hear the pitter pat
of Pele’s tears
sliding down the valleys
in between the
Koolau.
Ocean
Waves crest and fall thrash shore, small
sandy grains dance
signing with native drums
in ancient tongue
to the gods.
designed at Celebrate Reading at University of Hawaii --Manoa
with Brandy McDougall and Mahealani Perez-Wendt
Golf
Trying again to follow
a set of rules
designed by ancient trolls
intent on hard
ball tactics.
Rain
I can hear the pitter pat
of Pele’s tears
sliding down the valleys
in between the
Koolau.
Ocean
Waves crest and fall thrash shore, small
sandy grains dance
signing with native drums
in ancient tongue
to the gods.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Revisions Revisions Revisions
**Write about the loss of that child—three different versions.
He would spend hours playing with his Lego’s barking in his make believe world
All of his Tonka Trucks had dents because he would use them to dive bomb the
Lego land village pretending they were bombs dropped from an airplane, buzzing and careening; buildings continually blasted to smithereens that wrought destruction in his volatile game. Debris would collide with half drunken Pepsi cans their contents spilling into the faded lime green carpet leaving indelible traces. I can still hear the vroom vroom noises, voices he would’ve later mastered, his control limited to the special world he left behind the last vestiges outlined in the droopy eye of a stuffed green dog.
I noticed the droopy eyes of a lime green dog perched on his bed. It was a sad dog his stuffing peeking out of a torn seam. The room was now clean an uncommon state since this rambunctious child had infused that space. Every square inch resonated his being from the smashed Lego village to the dented yellow Tonka Dump Truck it oozed him even the curtains screamed his name.
The green dog had one eye that followed me inside to look one last time at his Lego’s and Tonka trucks which had been overcome by a 7yr. old. Never again would I hear the vroom vroom bang screech of metal and plastic colliding and exploding into the four corners narrowly missing the Pepsi can. No more crunch of Fritos beneath my feet. The silence followed me out the door and hung from the high beams flashing its baleful smile.
He would spend hours playing with his Lego’s barking in his make believe world
All of his Tonka Trucks had dents because he would use them to dive bomb the
Lego land village pretending they were bombs dropped from an airplane, buzzing and careening; buildings continually blasted to smithereens that wrought destruction in his volatile game. Debris would collide with half drunken Pepsi cans their contents spilling into the faded lime green carpet leaving indelible traces. I can still hear the vroom vroom noises, voices he would’ve later mastered, his control limited to the special world he left behind the last vestiges outlined in the droopy eye of a stuffed green dog.
I noticed the droopy eyes of a lime green dog perched on his bed. It was a sad dog his stuffing peeking out of a torn seam. The room was now clean an uncommon state since this rambunctious child had infused that space. Every square inch resonated his being from the smashed Lego village to the dented yellow Tonka Dump Truck it oozed him even the curtains screamed his name.
The green dog had one eye that followed me inside to look one last time at his Lego’s and Tonka trucks which had been overcome by a 7yr. old. Never again would I hear the vroom vroom bang screech of metal and plastic colliding and exploding into the four corners narrowly missing the Pepsi can. No more crunch of Fritos beneath my feet. The silence followed me out the door and hung from the high beams flashing its baleful smile.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Digger Files
(Write from the point of view of your character-see First Draft- Revision)
The Digger Files
MMM- I love Pepsi and Fritos
Now- where was I? Oh yeah
I need some new Lego people
a cop and a fireman to go wif
my new Fire Engine vroom, vroom
whirr squeal, bush—shifting gears, and here comes the siren
eeoh eeoh eeoh, eeoh eeoh eeoh, eeoh eeoh eeoh
honk, honk honk-- beep the horn Mr. Fireman
beep the horn.
Now I’ll smash that Lego land town wif my
tuf Tonka Dump truck and then I’ll build it
all over again, only better.
Now I want you people to LISTEN TO ME
It’s time to get outta here. That’s an order people.
Katoosh—booom—smash
(Blue, white, red and green pieces fly in all directions
The green dog with one eye, now has one yellow
and one blue eye.)
Whew this is hard work
My mom needs to buy me some more
chips cos this is the last bag.
Ma-let’s go shopping okay?
The Digger Files
MMM- I love Pepsi and Fritos
Now- where was I? Oh yeah
I need some new Lego people
a cop and a fireman to go wif
my new Fire Engine vroom, vroom
whirr squeal, bush—shifting gears, and here comes the siren
eeoh eeoh eeoh, eeoh eeoh eeoh, eeoh eeoh eeoh
honk, honk honk-- beep the horn Mr. Fireman
beep the horn.
Now I’ll smash that Lego land town wif my
tuf Tonka Dump truck and then I’ll build it
all over again, only better.
Now I want you people to LISTEN TO ME
It’s time to get outta here. That’s an order people.
Katoosh—booom—smash
(Blue, white, red and green pieces fly in all directions
The green dog with one eye, now has one yellow
and one blue eye.)
Whew this is hard work
My mom needs to buy me some more
chips cos this is the last bag.
Ma-let’s go shopping okay?
Friday, April 16, 2010
First Draft- Revision
List five words--use some or all of them to describe a child and write a poem
Trucks, stuffed animals, bag of chips, can of pepsi, lego's
At seven he was a messy child
traces of sweat smeared with mud
bare foot and shirtless
even his hair stuck out at weird angles.
He directed each day like
a drill sergeant
barking at his Lego people
making deliveries with his tough
Tonka trucks mimicking the hum and the whir
and the vroom of life with childish enthusiasm.
We named him Digger, because he liked
to dig holes in the back yard, usually at odds
with our instructions, but we asked you to rake leaves.
Totally oblivious he would happily recite his accomplishments
at dinner, and note that he had done it all by himself.
Lips smacking
teeth crunching doggedly toting a can of Pepsi and snacking
on a bag of Frito’s corn chips, too busy
to sit still, his mind would race
contemplating his next project.
Proud and perturbed we would shake our heads
as the stuffed menagerie
on his bed complacently watched entertained.
Trucks, stuffed animals, bag of chips, can of pepsi, lego's
At seven he was a messy child
traces of sweat smeared with mud
bare foot and shirtless
even his hair stuck out at weird angles.
He directed each day like
a drill sergeant
barking at his Lego people
making deliveries with his tough
Tonka trucks mimicking the hum and the whir
and the vroom of life with childish enthusiasm.
We named him Digger, because he liked
to dig holes in the back yard, usually at odds
with our instructions, but we asked you to rake leaves.
Totally oblivious he would happily recite his accomplishments
at dinner, and note that he had done it all by himself.
Lips smacking
teeth crunching doggedly toting a can of Pepsi and snacking
on a bag of Frito’s corn chips, too busy
to sit still, his mind would race
contemplating his next project.
Proud and perturbed we would shake our heads
as the stuffed menagerie
on his bed complacently watched entertained.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I Want To Be A Poet
I want to be a poet because
I need to know
Who I Am,
HOW- --I am.
WHY I AM
like breathing or SEX.
Like Starbucks coffee
to choose from an endless list
of black and strong
with cream and
sugar.
I want to be a poet because
it doesn’t mean a thing
if you ain’t got that zing
to people in the bayou
with alligators for neighbors
and mosquitoes as big as flying
saucers that want to drink your blood
and leave welts the size of basketballs.
BIG—ORANGE—HARD-- BALLS
The BALLS that it takes
to stand up and SHOUT
about
SENIORITY and AUTHORITY
and about
the Assonance and Consequence of
our ACTIONS.
I want to be a poet
because of the reason and the rhyme
marking time
dripping off my tongue-- aged like fine wine.
Lyrical and magical—ALICE
chasing a rabbit into a hole
filled with soul, out of control
hanging on a cliff
with a NOTE
high on hope
instead of dope.
Set adrift
on a boogie ship
with a Fever
unrehearsed
and cursed ----to just be.
I want to be a poet
because of sibilant s’s
and because I want to weigh the wind
on an impossible scale
next to a fish tail that never pales
or smells stale---or fishy.
I want to be
shackled
to a form and not mourn.
To show the flaming red dawn
like a phoenix riSING from the ashes
to give birth to the
MUsic of my faith
over, and over again.
Forever drunk on strong words
ringing in my ears --high above the herd
until my last
MEASURED DAY--- On Earth.
I need to know
Who I Am,
HOW- --I am.
WHY I AM
like breathing or SEX.
Like Starbucks coffee
to choose from an endless list
of black and strong
with cream and
sugar.
I want to be a poet because
it doesn’t mean a thing
if you ain’t got that zing
to people in the bayou
with alligators for neighbors
and mosquitoes as big as flying
saucers that want to drink your blood
and leave welts the size of basketballs.
BIG—ORANGE—HARD-- BALLS
The BALLS that it takes
to stand up and SHOUT
about
SENIORITY and AUTHORITY
and about
the Assonance and Consequence of
our ACTIONS.
I want to be a poet
because of the reason and the rhyme
marking time
dripping off my tongue-- aged like fine wine.
Lyrical and magical—ALICE
chasing a rabbit into a hole
filled with soul, out of control
hanging on a cliff
with a NOTE
high on hope
instead of dope.
Set adrift
on a boogie ship
with a Fever
unrehearsed
and cursed ----to just be.
I want to be a poet
because of sibilant s’s
and because I want to weigh the wind
on an impossible scale
next to a fish tail that never pales
or smells stale---or fishy.
I want to be
shackled
to a form and not mourn.
To show the flaming red dawn
like a phoenix riSING from the ashes
to give birth to the
MUsic of my faith
over, and over again.
Forever drunk on strong words
ringing in my ears --high above the herd
until my last
MEASURED DAY--- On Earth.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
No S’ss Here
Prompt--Write a poem without any S'ss
Come child
Come child
do not dawdle
family fault line crack
produced a tidal wave of truth.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Revisiting Lex Luthor
The springs creak as I lower the stairs and climb up
into the attic, into my past.
I inspect the cobwebs frozen in time
marking a sticky corridor, lined with daddy long legs
scurrying to stay inside the shadows.
A shaft of light from a small window
pierces the gloom
exposing the intricate web.
Far away in the corner
packed on top of the
pink insulation, is a stack
of old cardboard boxes
carefully penned in black sharpie logic.
A remnant of youth balefully stares
like an abandoned child.
At first glance with no trace of recognition
but then comes with open arms
to grasp my shoulders and close me in.
I try to suppress a shudder
as I descend into the contents
revisiting a haunted domain.
A musty kiss
brushes and lingers on my cheek
raising hairs, as I open the flimsy cardboard
flip the contents and watch
as it slides out and lands into a heap between the beams.
Haunted flashbacks
of Clark Kent and Supergirl
mingle with betrayal of innocence
and blankly stare from glossy pages.
Dead super heroes
overcome by red kryptonite buried
along with their evil counterparts.
Self obsessed monsters
like Lex Luthor shape shift
and ROAR,
tricked into this Bizzarro world
and left behind
to brood over their misfortune
now reconciled with shrewd eyes.
Lex Luthor, still plotting Superman’s downfall
planning his destiny
as the ultimate ruler
of Planet Earth
and his escape from obscurity.
into the attic, into my past.
I inspect the cobwebs frozen in time
marking a sticky corridor, lined with daddy long legs
scurrying to stay inside the shadows.
A shaft of light from a small window
pierces the gloom
exposing the intricate web.
Far away in the corner
packed on top of the
pink insulation, is a stack
of old cardboard boxes
carefully penned in black sharpie logic.
A remnant of youth balefully stares
like an abandoned child.
At first glance with no trace of recognition
but then comes with open arms
to grasp my shoulders and close me in.
I try to suppress a shudder
as I descend into the contents
revisiting a haunted domain.
A musty kiss
brushes and lingers on my cheek
raising hairs, as I open the flimsy cardboard
flip the contents and watch
as it slides out and lands into a heap between the beams.
Haunted flashbacks
of Clark Kent and Supergirl
mingle with betrayal of innocence
and blankly stare from glossy pages.
Dead super heroes
overcome by red kryptonite buried
along with their evil counterparts.
Self obsessed monsters
like Lex Luthor shape shift
and ROAR,
tricked into this Bizzarro world
and left behind
to brood over their misfortune
now reconciled with shrewd eyes.
Lex Luthor, still plotting Superman’s downfall
planning his destiny
as the ultimate ruler
of Planet Earth
and his escape from obscurity.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Fortuneteller
Glass shards gouge bloodless vein
tarot cards show disdain.
The writing prompt on another forum yesterday was to write an essence poem.
A short, structured form of two-lines, six syllables each with an end rhyme and internal rhyme.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Therapy
Come early for
your appointment.
Fill out this form in triplicate.
Use blue or black ink.
Don’t leave anything out.
Please write firmly and legibly.
Which do you prefer your proper name
or your nickname, she asks
as I approach her couch
and lie down.
My vision blurs and then adjusts.
A kerchief is wrapped around her head
it is worn; her dress is tattered but clean.
So tell me, why are you here?
An engraved request appears
like writing on a black eight ball.
I proceed to vomit last night’s dinner
onto the faded white shag next to a recent
stain. It ponds and congeals
into a purplish brown glob
and she addresses it rapt
poking and prodding into yesterday’s veal
and mashed potatoes.
Years spin past and unravel like dark blue thread
and a large deck is pulled out of a drawer
and dealt as
strange points of light appear on the horizon
like distant flickering
stars exposing black holes and
revealing
the mysteries of the universe.
your appointment.
Fill out this form in triplicate.
Use blue or black ink.
Don’t leave anything out.
Please write firmly and legibly.
Which do you prefer your proper name
or your nickname, she asks
as I approach her couch
and lie down.
My vision blurs and then adjusts.
A kerchief is wrapped around her head
it is worn; her dress is tattered but clean.
So tell me, why are you here?
An engraved request appears
like writing on a black eight ball.
I proceed to vomit last night’s dinner
onto the faded white shag next to a recent
stain. It ponds and congeals
into a purplish brown glob
and she addresses it rapt
poking and prodding into yesterday’s veal
and mashed potatoes.
Years spin past and unravel like dark blue thread
and a large deck is pulled out of a drawer
and dealt as
strange points of light appear on the horizon
like distant flickering
stars exposing black holes and
revealing
the mysteries of the universe.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Lethal Fungus-Tanka
Umbrella opens
providing tempting shelter.
Seductive white cap
emits toxic slumber, slams
naive visitor at dawn.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
April Snag-limerick
There was a young girl from County Cork
was rumored six times, with Sean O’Rourke.
She was a strong Philly
seduced his poor willy
then delivered twin pickles, the stork.
was rumored six times, with Sean O’Rourke.
She was a strong Philly
seduced his poor willy
then delivered twin pickles, the stork.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Pineapple Express
Last year this time
nine members
of my family came to visit
from upstate New York.
They all stayed
at the Queen Kapiolani,
which is on the zoo side of Waikiki.
This included my parents, both of my sisters, one brother-in-law, his parents
and my niece 11 and nephew 13 that I hadn’t seen in
ten years.
They rented two cars
plus my Hyundai made a caravan.
My brilliant husband, volunteered to stay home and cook for the tribe.
Two unforgettable weeks of hurry up and wait, from hiking up Diamond Head to strolling Waimea Falls. Patiently looking for this one and that one in the forty ninth ABC store in the International Marketplace. My camera snapping hundreds of pictures, capturing precious moments.
One of the highlights was a kids fishing contest for golden tilapia on Easter in my small fishpond.
Still the days flew by, on the last day here I took them to Dole Plantation.
Having acquired some wisdom by this time, we decided to skip the Maze
instead we boarded the Pineapple Express
to ride the train and hear the history of the plantation.
Taking us back over one hundred years
to when the settlers traveled by wagon train
across the southern plains with the Navaho, Apache and the Hopi.
Everyone on the wagon train had their job, knew what was expected.
Most got along, because they had to, to survive.
When the leader said Wagons Ho--the smart ones all got
into their wagons and followed. When the Indians
attacked they circled, got out their guns and shot
anything that moved. There was a certain order to things.
Only this was 1900’s Hawaii, so it would’ve been the Chinese, Filipino, Portuguese,
Hawaiian, Japanese, Puerto Rican, Korean, Okinawan and let’s not
forget the haole (white man). And this was a pineapple plantation reminding me of the song
about owing your soul to the company store, another chapter of the story.
Yes we’ve come a long way since the 1900’s.
Today we tell each other our plans, agree
and then do something else entirely, makes you wonder
when we lost our ability to communicate, I mean how many families
do you know that resort to yodeling
next to the outdoor
kiosk at the local tourist attraction
torn between the handmade coconut purses and
the parking lot,
looking one more time
for your missing loved one.
Yodellleeeoh!!
nine members
of my family came to visit
from upstate New York.
They all stayed
at the Queen Kapiolani,
which is on the zoo side of Waikiki.
This included my parents, both of my sisters, one brother-in-law, his parents
and my niece 11 and nephew 13 that I hadn’t seen in
ten years.
They rented two cars
plus my Hyundai made a caravan.
My brilliant husband, volunteered to stay home and cook for the tribe.
Two unforgettable weeks of hurry up and wait, from hiking up Diamond Head to strolling Waimea Falls. Patiently looking for this one and that one in the forty ninth ABC store in the International Marketplace. My camera snapping hundreds of pictures, capturing precious moments.
One of the highlights was a kids fishing contest for golden tilapia on Easter in my small fishpond.
Still the days flew by, on the last day here I took them to Dole Plantation.
Having acquired some wisdom by this time, we decided to skip the Maze
instead we boarded the Pineapple Express
to ride the train and hear the history of the plantation.
Taking us back over one hundred years
to when the settlers traveled by wagon train
across the southern plains with the Navaho, Apache and the Hopi.
Everyone on the wagon train had their job, knew what was expected.
Most got along, because they had to, to survive.
When the leader said Wagons Ho--the smart ones all got
into their wagons and followed. When the Indians
attacked they circled, got out their guns and shot
anything that moved. There was a certain order to things.
Only this was 1900’s Hawaii, so it would’ve been the Chinese, Filipino, Portuguese,
Hawaiian, Japanese, Puerto Rican, Korean, Okinawan and let’s not
forget the haole (white man). And this was a pineapple plantation reminding me of the song
about owing your soul to the company store, another chapter of the story.
Yes we’ve come a long way since the 1900’s.
Today we tell each other our plans, agree
and then do something else entirely, makes you wonder
when we lost our ability to communicate, I mean how many families
do you know that resort to yodeling
next to the outdoor
kiosk at the local tourist attraction
torn between the handmade coconut purses and
the parking lot,
looking one more time
for your missing loved one.
Yodellleeeoh!!
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter-acrostic
Eat a chocolate bunny and stuff yourself silly.
Ask your scale to lie for one more day.
Ask your scale to lie for one more day.
Satisfy your longings, and then call your loved ones
Tear yourself away from outdated traditions, invent new ones.
Tear yourself away from outdated traditions, invent new ones.
Eat one hundred jellybeans and then eat three more.
Rejoice in sweet memory and resurrect your dead dreams.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Spring Fever
Peacocks race through field
practicing for Spring Fever
tall and small compete.
Mongeese watch from pond
take note of noisy neighbors
mad commentary.
Cardinals picnic
doves, myna’s and sharma’s feast
on Milton’s crackers.
Trees hum with bird song
fish flip for raucous new tune
syncopated beat.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Not Guilty#@$%
Two large crows CAW---CAW
in a cold dark brown koa cage
their shiny
black feathers flexed in anticipation.
The honorable raven presides speaking
in their native tongue. He is flanked
by two rooks, the first randomly calls
the lucky hens and roosters
their names plucked from a hexagonal cube, the other
leads us to the box where we are to be judged
as a good fit
or later dismissed.
I am the first,
my seat is pointed out,
my feathers only slightly ruffled
I try not to squawk or show any signs
of distress as my foot catches on the carpet
as I push through the swinging doors
proceeding carefully and cautiously
up into the box
an omen.
We are to judge the blond sheep
next to the plumper crow
he has been accused of
ferocious bleating, kicking and spitting,
however we are reminded that he is innocent
until proven guilty.
We are instructed by the raven
as to the laws of the wilderness
and will have to listen
to testimony from the witnesses
and watch for
certain markers of doubt as there
were no visible signs to be discerned
on the goat--she is called to the stand
and hunches like an old woman.
Her language is guarded, she preens for us
and disappears back from where she came.
The blond sheep is next- he bleats on about his
innocent baby, who was forced to witness
the alleged bleating and remarks of his tender love
citing just cause for any misconceived wrong doing.
We wonder why are we here- our taxpayer dollars
contributing to keep the wheels of justice grinding
are as blind as a thousand bats in a dark cave.
It takes ten minutes to decide the outcome
we are thanked and asked to come downstairs
where they will answer any questions we might have
we respectfully decline and leave
released back into the warmth far away
from that koa cage back into our busy lives.
Back into the fog from which we came.
in a cold dark brown koa cage
their shiny
black feathers flexed in anticipation.
The honorable raven presides speaking
in their native tongue. He is flanked
by two rooks, the first randomly calls
the lucky hens and roosters
their names plucked from a hexagonal cube, the other
leads us to the box where we are to be judged
as a good fit
or later dismissed.
I am the first,
my seat is pointed out,
my feathers only slightly ruffled
I try not to squawk or show any signs
of distress as my foot catches on the carpet
as I push through the swinging doors
proceeding carefully and cautiously
up into the box
an omen.
We are to judge the blond sheep
next to the plumper crow
he has been accused of
ferocious bleating, kicking and spitting,
however we are reminded that he is innocent
until proven guilty.
We are instructed by the raven
as to the laws of the wilderness
and will have to listen
to testimony from the witnesses
and watch for
certain markers of doubt as there
were no visible signs to be discerned
on the goat--she is called to the stand
and hunches like an old woman.
Her language is guarded, she preens for us
and disappears back from where she came.
The blond sheep is next- he bleats on about his
innocent baby, who was forced to witness
the alleged bleating and remarks of his tender love
citing just cause for any misconceived wrong doing.
We wonder why are we here- our taxpayer dollars
contributing to keep the wheels of justice grinding
are as blind as a thousand bats in a dark cave.
It takes ten minutes to decide the outcome
we are thanked and asked to come downstairs
where they will answer any questions we might have
we respectfully decline and leave
released back into the warmth far away
from that koa cage back into our busy lives.
Back into the fog from which we came.
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