Tuesday, December 31, 2013
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
Monday, December 30, 2013
“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.”
Monday, December 23, 2013
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.....
Saturday, December 14, 2013
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."
"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."
"He's a Christmas troll, with small teeth."