Tag: Poetry & Tall Tales

Present Tense

goat in Santa hat | Eden Hills

The day I want to bake some bread

You’ll be the first to know

Were you confused that time I said

I need to make more dough?

And should I wish to buy a goat

Around the holidays

Feel free to name it but take note

I’d like it honey-glazed.

A scented candle lets me know

Exactly what you think

You’re hoping when it’s all aglow

At last, my house won’t stink.

That weird liqueur with toads inside

Distilled by monks in France

Soon made me wish that I had died

Then made me shit my pants.

The Cookie Monster sweater seemed

To spread more disarray

On seeing it, the baby screamed

And both cats ran away.

Gym memberships address excess

With weights or on a mat

Do you think I need to de-stress

Or is it that I’m fat?

It’s not the gift, John, it’s the thought

While this, no doubt, is right

It’s what they’ve thought, not what they’ve bought

Which keeps me up at night.

Constellation Prize

The figure on the mountain knew
Far higher than the eagle flew
Beyond the sun and past the light
Were men who crossed the sky by night.
Soon after dusk their fires appeared
Then slowly, once a course was steered
Their caravan set out en masse
To make its empyreal pass.


Like beasts migrating on the plains
Like swarms that form to greet the rains
He found no word for the amount
Of travelers he sought to count.
A gallery would pass him by
Whose outlines seemed to signify
Proud emblems of a noble clan
Led by an even a greater man.


The bearing, always east to west
Suggested they were on a quest
Or maybe searching for a door
They’d passed through in a time before.
Each night the figure danced and prayed
Around the fire he had made
In hope his kin might see its glow
And teach him all he wished to know.


Then with the last beat from his breast
Great Spirit granted this request
And drew his outline in the sky
That men as he should never die

Time Lapse

Image result for old couples dancing laughing

I brush your hair and talk of things
You still remember
The torch that lit the songs we’d sing
Now just an ember
I pour the tea
You study me
And wonder why
I still come by.
I dig out photos of the boys
More reminiscing
Now in a house devoid of noise
Each night you listen
A vigil kept
While fear has crept
Into a mind
That’s been confined.
Sinatra’s on the radio
And works his magic
This world which you no longer know
At once, less tragic
It was our song
You hum along
Then understand
And take my hand

Beached Wail

Image result for shark near swimmers

The great white’s famous for its size
So when you see its dorsal
It shouldn’t come as a surprise
You may be its next morsel
Don’t try to swim or duck and dive
From Carcharodon carcharias
It views each move to stay alive
As utterly hilarious
But be aware some do swim by
For quite another reason…
Just hope you never catch its eye
During the mating season

Alpha Mail

The moment I turn down your street
There’s no one that I wish to meet
So step aside or feel my wrath
‘Cause I’m a walking psychopath.
I don’t care how you feel today
If so-and-so has moved away
Or that you think the neighbour’s gay
Because he took up macramé.
I’ll knock your pots then slam the gate
And feed that dog of yours I hate
A Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup
To make the ugly mutt shut up.
As for your kid, if he’s on hand
And asks me for a rubber band
He’ll get one right between the eyes
Then several more until he cries.
And what’s the deal with Amazon?
Do you buy for the Pentagon?
Is it too much to take a bus
And shop just like the rest of us?
Just one more thing: if you complain
You won’t hear from your gran again
When we hear something we don’t like
My friends and me, that’s when we strike.

Because I’m not like most men
For I’m your local postman

Arch Nemesis

What Is the “Ides” of March? | Britannica

Beware the Ides! foretells the fall
Of he who rose to conquer Gaul
And lands still further from his home
This warrior, this son of Rome.
On his return to claim his right
A haruspex with second sight
Met Caesar by the Senate arch
To warn him of the Ides of March.
They’d killed an ox and found no spleen
An omen that could only mean
The Consul should fear for his life
As did, Calpurnia, his wife.
But Caesar didn’t fear the gods
For he had overcome the odds
To overshadow mortal men
And take his seat in Rome again.
So came the day, but nothing passed
Until the Senators amassed
Fulfilling what was prophesied
Thus, on the fifteenth, Caesar died.
Of every haruspex, it’s said
They earn their living from the dead
And though they claim the role of seer
It’s often what we overhear