Monthly Archives: November 2017

What a Ball

An agony of politeness holding you in thrall.
Is it too early to go right now?
If it gets too late, should I go at all?
Should I be first and hang out alone?
Or should I delay? Are these heels too tall?
The cycle starts and spins and falls –
Preparation for fun. Oh joy. What a ball.


No Longer Either Short Or Stout

No longer either short or stout –
The handle flails wildly.
The spout drowns you out.
No singing or bobbing
But cursing and tears,
Sarcasm and huffing –
Oh, teenage years.


Overwhelming Exhaustion

Initially, we try to
Negotiate the ins and outs,
Telling ourselves that the
Right skills will take away the
Overwhelming exhaustion so
Vexingly integrated with
Each and every social gathering. Then,
Racked with conflict at each invitation, we’re
Tormented by the question:
Share the fun or enjoy the quiet?


The Goal

First or second,
The goal, I hear,
And mine a mere
12 times a year.


A Complete Boxed Puzzle

A: I don’t get it.

B: Oh, come on.

A: I really… I can’t understand it.

B: Leave it, will ya?

A: But why? Why would they do that?

B: It’s supposed to be creative.

A: Not that creative!

B: Mack-

A: -I gave them a complete boxed puzzle, and they made an ash tray!

B: Ok. That’s extreme. I know you love metaphors, but-

A: -No, it’s not. It’s accurate. It perfectly describes their lunacy.

B: They’re not crazy, Mack.

A: Sure fooled me! They can’t even follow simple instructions.

B: What? Because they didn’t do it your way?

A: Right.

B: Mack… they’re not you.

A: What?

B: If you want it done your way, do it yourself!


The Harried Tornado

The harried tornado
Stumbles to a stop,
However temporary,
And savors every second.
Until, that is,
The languid breeze
Decries its stressful schedule.
Or the heavy wind
That blows but once
Insults its time and tempo.


Hush and Heed

Hush, my child, or they will hear
Your petulant voice in the cold night air –
That shrill, hard pitch shreds their ears,
And those that get caught
Simply disappear.

Stay out of the woods!
That’s where they live, where they watch
And hunt for foolish kids
That show their parents’ words such scorn
And fade away
Like the fog at morn.

Steer clear of the waters,
Be they shallow or deep, they’ll pull you down
To their cold, dark depths
Where they like to sleep –
Where they steal your breath.

Hush and heed my warnings, my words,
Flee the woods and waters beyond.
Hush and head, my darling child,
If you wish to see tomorrow’s dawn.


%d bloggers like this: