BLOCKED

 

          Inspiration lies dormant,

          banked in the ashes

          of very old age

          Needed is a spark

          to ignite the fire

          of my creativity

 

HOLDING HANDS, a poem

 

My arm around you,

          a smile on your face

          What better place

          in this human race

 

          To walk hand in hand

          wherever life takes us

          is a wonderful plan

          for this earthly span

 

          At day’s end, the pleasure

of standing close together

viewing the reds and golds

of a glorious evening sky

JANUARY SIXTH, a poem

 

         The dupes, the supremacists, the crazies

          heard the wannabe despot’s call         

          to amass for a bloody assault

          on our sacred Congressional hall

 

          Tear them apart in my name

was the traitorous message

creating a willing mob

with a murderous intent

                   

A thin blue line of brave police

          turned the violent, seditious horde

         with a hero dying on this shameful day,

          the price to save our democratic way

         

A DELICIOUS DAY, a poem

 

         Pancakes with butter

          and maple syrup

          began my day,

          along with sausages

          and two black coffees

 

          For lunch I turned

          to a hot dog

          with American cheese

from the Forest Pork Store

          along with plain water

 

          Home-made pizza

          and a red wine

completed my journey

with a heavy price,

an added pound of flesh

 

THE ISLE of ATTU

 

 

The distant isle of Attu,

the perfect place for you,

Donald

          Wearing the ring

          of a lonely king

 

          Spending your long days

          staring at the raging sea

          Donald

          Fondly remembering the brawl,

          waiting for the comeback call

 

          You had world-wide power

          embarrassingly frittered away

          Donald

          Continuing to gloat,

          I never lost the vote

 

          (Reminiscent of Napoleon’s exile to Elba,

          This poem suggests the Isle of Attu, the western-

          most island of the Aleutian Islands would be the perfect

          place for Donald Trump’s post-awful presidency. Fittingly,

Attu is just 280 miles from Russia.)

         

 

HAPPY WEATHER, a poem

 

One day, I looked at Ginger

and realized how happy she was,

full of smiles, content, energy  

very much in love with me.

It is against human nature

to continue like that all the time.

Like the weather around us,

there are beautiful days

of perfect temperature, soft sunshine

with crisp clouds in azure skies

 

The threatening storms

with fierce winds

and frightening lightning.

Are bound to come

And they do

And they pass

 

 

OWL EYES

 

         How could you

          not love an owl

          unless you are

          a tiny mouse

 

          Those big round eyes

          always scanning

for a tasty meal;

          Goodbye little mouse