Cooking Light

He bought ten pounds of grace and two potatoes
Walked home with a sense of foreboding and two dollars in his pocket
At home, he peeled the potatoes and boiled them with the grace
The water, starchy and a bit wondrous, made ten small cups of tea
He drank each in three sips forgiving any who had forsaken him
When he was finished his stomach was warm and full, his mind at peace
He slept that night heavy with dreams, dreams of flying and of earnest love
When he awoke to the sound of rain he remembered his father's shortcomings
He used the leftover grace to clean house, remembering Christmas morning in Raleigh
And his father's hands building his first bicycle by the light of the tree

Getting Lucky

“It’s gonna be my year.”

“You said that last year.”

“Yeah, but I can feel it, strong as Hercules.”

“Did you call the kids on Christmas?”

“Was going to, but got busy.”

“Did you pay the dentist?”

“Maybe next week.”

“Who is your job interview with tomorrow?”

“Cancelled it, not my bailiwick.”

“Well then, here’s to 2014….”

“Yeah, feeling lucky.”

“Yeah, lucky.”

You Don't Tell Me.....

Folded like the crease in gangland Chinos

Your mind dips lower than an election year politicians virtues

Creating a halo around the campsite shitter

Convincing everyone that it smells like money and sex

Pop the truth

An ugly blister

French kissing black lips, the reapers' sister

Pull the lie

Expose the muscle

Running the most elaborate hustle

You choose what you write.....

Mending the fence when the course gets too heavy

Drinking your coffee from old poets cups, cowboy style

And spitting out volumes that fall on sensitive ears

Riding shotgun in the onyx beast, you weaping Chivas

Cap the punk

Wear his hat sideways

Etching out grooves on life's shadowed highways

Pinch the ducket

Grating the raw nerve

Throwing the masses a down and out curve

You don't tell me, I tell you.....

Chasing Spirits

For my own Friday Challenge, this is the first of two, my daughter Caitlin gave me the second line in the poem....she laughed at the outcome and had a good time with it, but she did ask me if Santas reindeer really have wi-fi.....




In the Glow of a tinseled tree....3 am
Christmas feels joyful and fun
Magic air so thick to frost sugar cookies 
Jesus' face a marbled wonder in Grandma's divinity

"Dad, can we open our presents?"
"Not til' Christmas Love."
"But why?"
"Christmas trolls darlin', with big teeth."

Waiting is a category of pain akin to a root canal
And sleep is the friendliest enemy of Christmas soldiers
That hallway glow taunts even the most steadfast
Santa has no patience with deserters, but will still eat the cookies

"Dad, how does Santa visit all the children?"
"He uses the internet and his reindeer have wi-fi."
"Daaaaddd..."
"He's a Christmas troll, with small teeth."