POEM - August Abandoned

And so August ends

With the lazy complacency

Of a three day weekend

We have eaten the bad food

Watched too much football

Pondering now and then

What our choices have cost

The Messiah is playing right now

Maybe not a classic end to summer

But it makes me happy

In a melancholy sort of way

I think this rendition is from the mid-sixties

They did a good job

I get the impression they were enjoying it

I am enjoying this weird day

The early morning hemmed in by fog

Followed by a bright sunny day

Interrupted mid afternoon

By a brief deluge of rain

Maybe we could get a windstorm

And a little hail

Possibly an electrical storm

And just make it completely kooky

Not to mention Seamus Heaney died

Don’t worry

I had to look it up too

He was an Irish poet

Whom I thought I recognized

And I did once I saw his work

He translated Beowulf

The definitive version

            Well, it was the version I’ve read

So it must be good

Colleges use it

Or I wouldn’t have read it

Because one only reads Beowulf

When one is forced to

And I write of all this

Because I also have to translate

Make sense of what the summer said

Rearrange the words

Configure the symbols

Defer to the experts

Consult the old masters

And find the final clarity

At the bottom of a porcelain bowl

Having ingested the frigid contents

The ice creams formerly known as

Heavenly Hash and Mint Chocolate Chip

My favorite chorus starts to play

            “For unto us a child is born!

            Unto us a son is given!”

I sing along silently

            Taking the tenor part

As  August winds down to midnight

And the weather changes

Just one more time

POEM - Across the Quad the Ragged Frisbee Flies

Senior year I was barefoot

As often as I could be

Acquiescing as needed

To be allowed access

To the hallowed halls

Of my beloved Alma Mater

Flip-flops were the compromise

Really cool thin ones

That fit good enough to run in

For running was the idea

Every day in the Quad

Barz and I would endlessly fling

The whimsical plastic saucer

Oblivious

Occasionally there were disruptions

Less serious flippers

A throw or a few  

Then they’d fade out

As unhindered we continued

Dedicated devotees of the disc

POEM - And Now we Bring You . . . Football!

Just in case you were wondering

Football season started today

And there is a place on the couch

Waiting for my posterior

I don’t know what it is

I get so into it

I blame my dad

And my grandpa

And my dad’s friend from college

That guy especially

He was a lunatic

Screaming and shouting

Jumping up and down

Throwing pillows at the TV

I’m nothing like that

I just shout a little

Which is out of character

But my dad was an active watcher

So it rubbed off on me

But I’m not the addict my brothers are

No pouring over stats

No fantasy football

Just watching whoever is on

I pull for a few favorites

But I can find fun in any game

Especially college football

That’s what Saturdays in fall mean

When I was a kid at my grandparent’s house

They had a wall in the den covered with pictures

But there was one plaque among them

One I would read over and over again

It said, “We interrupt this marriage

            To bring you the football season.”

I didn’t quite get it as a little kid

            As an adult it is a way of life

POEM - The Dust Settles

Lazy summer days have been surrendered

In a furious fortnight of upheaval

As we the procrastinators

Scrambled for the supplies

Assembled necessary raiment

Cobbled together some new kicks  

And scrounged for essential accoutrements

Causing hair to frazzle

Tempers to elevate

Attitudes to decline

And melancholy to ensue

It will be lonely soon

In this house we call home

You get used to the company

All the noise and the action

This year we have added excitement

The eldest is altogether leaving home

Which means extra stuff and hassle

All superfluous activities forgotten

In the rush to get additional things in order

All that she will need when she is transient

Floating in the world out there

Discovering what it means to be herself

Instead of the offspring appendage

To the family body proper

But it is quieting down now

As the oldest has flown away

And the remaining siblings depart

Each morning in various vehicles

To pursue their educations

And you think that some silence is nice

But you start to miss the helpless whelps

Who need you to fix them lunch

Or they will just starve

And might have to interrupt their schedule

Of intensive television watching

Because they need you

Even if they don’t need need you

They come around and talk

Fill the empty void with voices

Disturb the air and swirls the dust

That settles and silently waits

To play and dance

When the children come home again

POEM - Veronica Flies to SLC

It was the plane change in Dallas

That's what had us worried

Since she was nine she’s been babysitting

Responsible enough to take care of things

Now at the age of nineteen

All we could see was the infant

Sure she would get lost

Went over the map of the terminal

Wrote out all the details on an index card

Thought maybe we should tell the attendant

Just to be sure she knew where she was going

In the end we let it be

Took her to the security line

And then stood back and watched her

Until she disappeared around the corner

Heading to her assigned boarding area

She did fine

Made all the connections

All the flights arrived early

All the departures left on time

An easy, uneventful flight

On the other end friends waited for her

The family that was like her second parents

Eager to participate in her journey

They made her arrival an easy thing

Compensating for our flustered condition

They were cheerful, helpful and happy

When she landed I got the call

Everything was fine

She even sounded a little bored

As if this was an everyday occurrence

Maybe an attempt to quell our worry

Though it is probably just Vern being Vern

Said she was heading to In-n-Out

She knows how to make us jealous

Back home we were able to get comfortable

Remove ourselves from the pins and needles

Break out a relieved smile

Roll our eyes at her nonchalance

POEM - To Tell the Time

Hands move around the face

Or electrically charged crystals pulse

Morphing into pieces of a shape

That lets the brain know

What time it is

Marks the aging of the day

I’ve been tasked with selecting a watch

One that my daughter will wear

One that is digital, no hands and stuff

And make sure it is water proof

Because you know how she is

So I peruse and scan the selection

What fascinates me is how many there are

Just in the retail store a large supply

In every color and configuration

So much time spent displaying the time

I pick the serviceable water resistant digital

With a ten year battery and black strap

Killing off an entire lunch hour picking the right watch

POEM - The Stories that Bind

The drive home I was bleary eyed

Barely in control of my faculties

All of the reflectors shone bright

Looking like pillars of light

Through my tears flooding down my face

As I laughed hysterically

This time it was a good one

Our last weekend all together

Before the eldest child went off alone

Time to leave the nest and venture out

We had been out all day and it was late

Lunch was fantastic but hours ago

Since then we’d endured family photos

Wandered around the old city graveyard

Found a tombstone that made us laugh

All it said was “Hamburger”

We took a picture as we snickered and joked

Later we indulged in hot fudge sundaes

With whipped cream and a cherry on top

Half of the cherries were removed

And placed on top of Ezra’s sundae

It made him remark he had an endless supply

After that we headed to the dollar flicks

To catch a animated something or other

Unfortunately we were in the least renovated theatre

The one with all the old seats

Including the ones that would fold down

And then when sat on release their hold

The one they had on a horizontal orientation

They would suddenly become padded slides

Sending the rider towards suspiciously sticky floors

That started the silliness

The movie was just OK but bearable

The little kid gagging

And then making puke sounds

Directly behind Linda

Was a reason to exit before the credits rolled

When we got to the car we laughed

About the sounds the kid made

The condition of the theatre

And the fun of the day

Then the reminiscence turned more hilarious

As we brought up those terrible stories

The ones that just our immediate family knows

But will never tell another soul

Ever

Or else

You heard me Max

Not even at scout camp

You too Josie

These are things we don’t share

And Clair and Ezra and Vern

Forget what you heard

Even the one about grandma

These are special stories

Of things that make my eyes water

In uncontrollable laughter

For the entire twenty miles home

Events that bind a family together

With heavy unbreakable chains

Forever and ever

All the way to the grave

And I’m not kidding!

POEM - Garrison’s Sneeze

Was gonna write poignantly about sneezes

Air exits with a jolting tingle

At over 200 miles an hour

The tissue strains and billows

Frequently conceding to the greater force

It disintegrates into sloppy gooey knotted confetti

Then I’d dwell a little longer on the spinal alignment

Internal chiropractor with variable results

Throws out the back this time, back into place the next

Let’s not forget the wonderful euphoria of loss

A dizzy high of vacated sinuses and involuntary spasms

Like dancing upside down in a hurricane

It was all so perfect but Garrison Keillor beat me to it

Sure it was prose

                        but it was elegant prose

Exhaustive and conclusive, humorous and insightful

Enough to discourage the attempt

Long enough for a contemplative tickle of thought

To wiggle in fuzzy perfectness around my brain

Waiting in a cerebral dusty corner

Until stirred in to action by the vibration of synapse

Words explode in a scatter on to this page

A wood based product made of sterner stuff

Just strong enough to avoid demolition

Dripping with slimy thoughts intact

POEM - We’ve Made it this Far, Haven’t We?

I guess this was the real deal

Not just a passing phase

We stuck it out

All these years

And haven’t killed each other yet

Believe me, there have been times

Opportunities aplenty

When either of us

Could have taken it to far

Thrown one more glass jar at my head

After you swore the first was an accident

Or I might have left the iron on high

On a day you were going to sleep in

A wrong pill or an errant arrow

The occasional toaster in the tub

We did none of these things

Never even allowed mention of the merest thought of the idea

To cross into consciousness

And stew and simmer

Until it boiled over

Into something unspeakable

But like Guinevere sang to Lancelot

If I ever leave you

It wouldn't be ever

Because each season there is something

That you make better

That I just can’t live without

Though that being said

No one is really all that happy in summer

So as long as we are miserable

If we ever do call this off

            (Which I’m not saying we ever will)

Let’s do it in summer

It’s already the most unpleasant time

Might as well give it another reason to be such

Besides the van down by the river

The one I will be living in

Is parked at a KOA

That’s only open in summer

But we really don’t need to go there

We are happy and blissful

And we've done pretty well

Suppressing our homicidal tendencies

While keeping up the appearance of normality

POEM - That Time we met the Llamas

There was a time when we were a family of three

I know this because Veronica mentions it

Now and then

When her younger siblings are bugging her

I also remember her favorite way to ride in the car

In the middle of the back seat

With Keith on one side

And Dane on the other

Giving her all the attention she could stand

Dane wrote us yesterday

Let us know we were still in her thoughts

That’s how it is with good friends

The years don’t matter

Every time we are together the spaces disappear

Though we are sad the spaces are longer these days

With miles and commitments wedging in between

I wonder if they remember that one trip

It was on a Sunday after church

I had found a map to a trail I had been to

Way back when I was a kid

I thought it would be fun to head up there

Everyone agreed and we piled into the Subaru

The dirt road that led to the trail was long

It was fascinating how many environments we passed through

Washes and desert full of prickly pear and saguaro

Backdrops of rusty red mesas with sheer cliffs

Then it would change to riparian areas and cottonwoods

Then change again as we crawled ever higher

The road got steeper and the scenery more beautiful

Until we reached the last junction and the switchbacks

The road was horrible and we bounced up a while

Until we couldn’t go any further

As we got out to look around

We looked back at all the way we came

It was so vast it distorted your vision

And incredibly breathtaking

As the sun was beginning to set

Turning the mesas from rust to bright copper

The sky spun into streaks of bright pink and orange

We were interrupted by the arrival of a group of hikers

Eight women and two llamas

I think the llamas made Veronica’s day

Keith in his usual way instantly engaged them

Chatted them up and got the details

He was planning the same thing I was

And a few weeks later found us on the same hike

For now it was just a good talk

Then some snacks back at the car

And the long ride home

The sun having surrendered to night

The conversations never surrendered

As our young daughter was lulled to sleep

Ensconced amidst two of her favorite friends

POEM - Theoretical Calculus and the Wormhole of my Misunderstanding

Between the time I quit

My fourth old college try

Taking Philosophy of Physics

Stuck in the shallow end

Timidly aware of depths beyond

Teeming with intellectual sharks

All frantically feeding

On the analytical chum

Of cerebral double talk

Laced with two parts mumbo jumbo,

Three parts theoretical calculus

And all of it funneled down the wormhole

Of my misunderstanding

In the end I understood one concept

A brief two lines of a fifth rate hypothesis

Concerning four trees

And Newton’s fateful apple

Suddenly dropped into my awareness

A miniscule bite

That tasted comprehensible

If a sixth tree appears of similar proportion

Though physically dissimilar in intrinsic aesthetics

The blunt force of postulate A

Compounded annually

Will distract gravity at the sub vector

Such that,

Subject B at event horizon Q

Will virtually erect

Parallel singular lines F and U

As terminus  points

That and a dollar bought me soda and a vacation

3 years in community college limbo

Before college try five gave way

To the success of number six

I had understood one concept

In an unfathomable discipline

An accomplishment sweet enough

To justify a hasty retreat

Before the blood in the water spread

Along the Y axis into oblivion

POEM - The Encouragement Center

It will be OK

I offered to the voice on the phone

They won’t do that

We will work it out

I can help and you can always call

Then I hung up the phone

It was an injustice

The position she was in

The terrible weight on her shoulders

A sense of doom and darkness

Creating an air of stress

When she needed sunshine and clarity

Yesterday I had been out to lunch

My wife and daughter had met me

We enjoyed a burger and fries

A delicious shake and good conversation

And on the way home we saw a funny building

The Columbia Encouragement Center

What an odd place

So we made the expected jokes

Hello? I just can’t find my reason

To wake up and brush my teeth

            Call my mom and cancel dinner

                        Tell my boss he’s a total tool

And they tell you that you can do it

            You’re good enough and deserve to be happy

                        Get back on that horse cowboy!

What a crack up!

As I finish the conversation I get a text

My daughter asks me what I’m doing

I say a coworker needed some support

She was feeling a lot of stress

My daughter is quick to text back

            Maybe she needs the Encouragement Center

POEM - The Monologue Made Me Do It

If comic books were real

We would all be faced with a dilemma

The problem of who to align with

Whether to support the super heroes

Or become a thug or minion

In support of an evil genius

It is a harder question than it appears

As complex as Superman's disguise

As complicated as Batman's moodiness

We already support different factions  

Groups and organizations in vast array

Some looking like the Justice League

Others like training camp for the Nazis

But even that isn’t enough to decide

We all have to work somewhere

Maybe we are employed by a big industrial company

Only a toxic spill away from vilification

Or perhaps a pharmaceutical company

Committed to absolute eradication

Of some furry pest or creepy bug

When a slight misstep in formulation

Triggers a worldwide wipe out of all gingers

And you were just doing your job

But now you work for the bad guy

And the villagers are at the gate

With pitchforks and Tasers

And suddenly you are a minion

Just to save your own skin

And when you look at it that way

Almost nobody is immune

Completely sure of their ability 
To remain on the side of good

Possibly a few charities

The occasional non-profit do-gooders

Maybe even a church or two

But in a world where Mother Theresa gets bad press

Even these guys aren't a safe bet

I tell you all this because I know

I found out already

Which side I am destined for

I'm going to be a villain

Not a mean, violent one

Just a narcissist  

A full-of-myself gas bag

In love with the sound of my own voice

My daughter let me know this today

She said it was the monologues that did it

It was the one habit the would remain

The qualification I could never surrender

Even if I tried really, really hard

Apparently I don't come off as a strong-silent-type

I’m more the guy you bring along

That will keep the conversation going

At all costs

Even sanity

I really don’t see the problem

There are just so many funny thoughts

Running and banging around my brain

Little scenes to play out

Different voices to try on

Sleepy people to make chuckle

Control to be lost

Milk to be projected form noses

Hysterical, convulsive laughter to incite

And long drawn out explanations to be brilliantly orated!