POEM - Tales of the Mogollon Monster

It wasn’t fair we were tired

We had walked all day

Hiking into the Superstitions

The mountain’s name also didn’t help

We were miles from anywhere

All alone in the back country

Just a couple dozen scouts

A few leaders

And miles of desert and forest

Surrounding our little campsite

Next to this little stream

It all seemed like the perfect scene

Idyllic and picturesque

Until night fell

With the fire burning low

The scout master got serious

Staring into the fire

He seemed distracted

A little uncomfortable

As he seemed to call up a memory

Something he wasn’t comfortable with

Without a word

We all fell silent

Ten sets of eyes

Intent on his fire-lit face

As he started in a low voice

He told us of the legends

The weird events in these very hills

Of the Lost Dutchman and his mine

Still lost somewhere close by

In sight of Weaver’s Needle

Which we had passed today

As we hiked ourselves in

But that wasn’t the memory

That was just a mystery

His expression grew grim

As he asked the question

Have you ever heard tale

Of the Mogollon Monster?

The hair on my arms and neck

Stood up and took notice

As he told of a horrific creature

Over seven feet tall

With glowing red eyes

That has been menacing these very hills

Leaving a swath of death and destruction

From the foothills to the peaks

If you listen close

You can hear the howl

And as we listened

Off in the distance

A low howl drifted in

On the slight night breeze

Completely reliving me

Of all desire to sleep

Maybe it was another leader

Or just a well-timed coyote

Or maybe, just maybe

It was really the monster

And we just got lucky

That we didn’t wake to missing limbs

Pools of blood

And piles of entrails

But I didn’t question it

And I never looked back

Made it out of the mountains

Twice as fast

As it took to hike in

Even in full sun

I felt a little skittish

Until the hills grew smaller

In the distance behind

The howls of the mountains

A little harder to hear

As the miles stretch out

To a safe feeling distance

Between us and those eerie mountains

POEM - When Closing your Eyes Isn’t Enough

Have I told you

All

My ghost stories?

The bumpy nights

And the prickly skin

The hair standing right straight up

As spirits whispered

Mournful words

That tickled the ears

And chilled the bones

And never let you sleep

Because the creatures lurked

And crept and moaned

As shivering beneath your covers

Your eyes shut tight

Fists gripping desperately

To the pillow

Smashed against your face

Those nights when floors creaked

Doors slammed

Branches tapped on windows

And scurrying little feet

Danced menacingly

Beneath your bed

And you shivered till morning

As light snuck in the window

Those were the lucky times

At least the bed was safe

The other stories

They’re not so nice

When you face the demon head on

And nothing pushes it away

Not light or sound

Or begging or pleading

Your bed is not near

You are all alone

Closing your eyes won’t do

Because you are running

For your life

And for your sanity

Those are the stories

You don’t tell lightly

Those are the stories

That don’t end well

When the deceptive sigh of relief

Precedes the ominous dark doorway

POEM - The Flat Tire Made my Night

The flat tire of morning

Was too much to handle

So it became the flat tire of evening

And with the sun still up

The missing tools found

And music blaring

From the work shop stereo

It went much better

During the home stretch

After a brief family dinner

When everyone came out

To hang with me in the yard

And sit around

Or run with the dogs

All enjoying in different ways

The temperate Fall weather

We found ourselves serenaded

By a flock of gray geese

Noisily migrating over head

When things are that perfect

You stop for a minute

In love with nature

As it surrounds you

Entertains and amazes

But then it’s back to changing the tire

And I’m glad the spare is good

As I clean up the tools

And store the flat tire

In the vacancy left by the spare

My youngest cranks the handle

That lifts the tire

Up under the car

And I did it all without being cranky

And everyone helped

And some days all it takes

Is good weather

And the family close by

All working together

To make a good evening

Out of a flat tire

POEM - The Words that Lead to Kissing

When I was young

I wrote letters filled

With every emotion imaginable

As if there was no time

To express all the feelings

Or the feelings burst forth

Too fast to catalog

And in the energy of youth

I took on a fool’s mission

Tried to capture them all

But we hadn’t the vocabulary

Or concepts of structure

Nor even a serviceable thesaurus

To create good writing

Yet still I succeeded

To create cherished documents

Where every word was devoured

Treasured, pondered and re-digested

Soaked up and analyzed

For every hidden meaning

Each well-formed compliment

And all the subtle winks and nods

That would make you swoon

Run into my arms

Embrace tightly

Pucker up

And plant one

Right on my lips

Sincerely,

            With all my heart,

                        True Love Always,

Signed, ♥♥♥♥♥♥

P.S. XOXOXO

POEM - Waiting, I Chew

Anticipation built

As weeks passed

So long I almost forgot

The few bits of change

Dropped in the envelope

Was not the greatest price

Nor was the plastic toy

The greatest reward

When the transaction

After so long

Finally concluded.

I had saved the comics

Dozens of them

Even read them

Every awful one

Even at my age I knew

This was throw away humor

Badly written

Because it wasn’t meant to last

Even printed so colorfully

On wax infused paper

The misadventures

Of Bazooka Joe

Were not literary gold

But I was addicted

To the pink slabs

Of bubblegum joy

And I many a nickel and dime

Was traded in

For handfuls thereof

Eventually I started to want stuff

Free stuff

As advertised in the comics

In the smallest of print

Wondrous oddities

In exchange for a few comics

I counted out the colorful toons

Sent 35¢ for postage

Wrote out the order form

And sent it out

In a flurry of excitement

I was participating in commerce

At an elevated level

Time has erased the memory

Of what I ordered

Or if it ever came

I’m sure it wasn’t much better

Than the comics that made it possible

But I remember the gum

And chewing on and on

And the strength of my jaw

And the power of my bite

Remain to this day

As a lasting testament

A side effect of obsession

POEM - The Good Kids

Given the choice

And a little freedom

They did well

It was a school party

At a good home

But the crowd was unexpected

The older kids showed up

Guys that graduated last year

Came to check on the girls

Graduating this year

And they were acting older

Smoking and cussing and carrying on

We got the text within minutes

Our kids were done with the party

We headed to get them

They found other places to be

Away from the garbage

Kept making sure we were coming

Grateful when we showed up

They’re good kids

They choose the right

They learned

From their mother

To be this way

POEM - Dress me up and Give me Candy

Halloween is here

And I will dress up

Still every year

I’m right there

With all the kids

It’s not a big deal

I dress up every day

As an office worker

I even drive to an office

Sit at a desk

With a real computer

Just to complete the picture

But I like dress up

Especially now I’m older

I get to pick each year

Get creative

Be what I want

Avoiding the dreaded collection

Of moldering clown costumes

Hidden away in the old trunk

Happily forgotten

POEM - Grandma Blew Up Signal Hill

My grandma

That sweet old lady

She carries such troubles

A deep dark secret

That she’s held for years

She once told me in confidence

In hushed tones

So no one would hear

During a moment

When we were chatting

It seems there was a big hill

Right near her home

Full of oil rigs

Near the city of Long Beach

And she’s positive

That she is somehow responsible

For blowing it up

I’m shocked by her revelation

But she is a wily one

And I watch her

As she leans back in the chair

Closes her wrinkly eyes

And smiles a wry smile

“I was only 6 at the time

            But I was sure it was my fault!”

Oh grandma

You are a silly one

And she laughs her laugh

And I laugh to

After a moment

She opens her eyes

Another thought has surfaced

She has that funny look

As she starts again

“Did I ever tell you

About the time

            I was there

When the Japanese attacked California . . .?”

POEM - Zen and Eggrolls

The window sits transparent

Marking the end of the counter

The extent of my claim

As I sit and ponder

The scented steam rising

Surrounding my closed lid face

Engulfing my nostrils

Hijacking my olfactory

In the aging Chinese restaurant

This spot is the best spot

Without any effort or neck craning

I can gaze at the entire downtown

As it rises up the low hill

As if it gradually crept out of the river

Where it hid from the Union soldiers

And the burning swath

Officiated by Sherman

From the steps of the capital

Columbia burned to the ground

But you’d never know it now

On this beautiful day

As the dusky haze settles

I return my gaze to base concerns

Two perfect eggrolls

Hot and crunchy

Waiting

The bottle of duck sauce

Stands ready

Filled with ginger laden sweetness

And each bite is delightful

And the restaurant is nearly deserted

And my thoughts and I

Enjoy the view

Ponder the delicacies

Watch the city age a little more

Dig out my last dollar

And a few loose coins

Order a third

From the amused proprietor

She laughs

And I know I’m not the first

To linger at that spot at the counter

And see the beauty of the city

Through the rising steam

From a perfect eggroll

POEM - The Water World Incident

A fine summer day

When I was a youth in Tucson

And I am on my way

Down the road

To the wonderland of water

To frolic in aquatic bliss

Among the varied attractions

At Justin’s Water World

I thought I was so cool

My new colorful shorts

That my mom had just made

I rode slide after slide

With nary a care

I must have looked hot

In my cool trunks

And my slender muscular teen bod

Cuz suddenly I was getting checked out

These girls were ogling my glutes

And giggling and twittering

As they discussed my obvious assets

What I didn’t know

Until I got to the bottom of the slide

Was my assets were a little too obvious

As large swathes of my tighty-whiteys

Were blatantly exposed

Through the shredded remains

Of my brand new

Not meant for water parks

            Barely there shorts

And thus play time ended

I rode my towel and the picnic table

For the rest of the afternoon

Avoided all eye contact

And made a major mental note

From now on

Store bought

Swim trunks

Only!

POEM - The Retraction (Pennies, Pennies Everywhere)

I wrote a lovely poem

All about my fun mom

Then at dinner

My daughter said something

That brought back the painful memories

Of the parts that weren’t so fun

The daughter said she wanted to pay for something

All in pennies

I told her it wasn’t as fun as you’d think

And the memory was right there

That time we needed milk

On a random summer day

And she sent me to the store

With a bag of pennies

I protested

Vehemently

To no avail

And then I took that stupid bag of pennies

And went to the stupid store

And bought the stupid milk

And sat there counting out stacks of 10

And grumbled the whole way home

How could a mother

Look into the disappointed eyes

Of an innocent twelve year old

And force him out the door?

It’s legal tender

Were the words that rung in my ears

Legal tender this!

Is what I should have said

Except I just thought of it now

And it’s 30 years too late

So I will just have to learn the lesson

And be glad the gallon of milk

Was under a dollar back then

And for her birthday she’s getting cash

Forty dollars or so

All in pennies

See what you think of legal tender now

Dear old mom

POEM - The Fun Mom

I feel bad

For my younger brothers

Because I had the fun mom

Back when she was young

Liked to run around

Was up and active and playful

Even in Tucson

We had fun days

But Tucson was the end

When she got Valley Fever

And got tired

And frustrated

Because she couldn’t do

Like the do she used to

So I had a different childhood

All to myself

Because I would hang out with mom

And sister went with dad

Because he could handle her

Or she was doing homework

Or being in school

While mom and I would ditch

Play hooky and go shopping

Maybe we’d hit the fabric store

Or stop by dad’s office

Possibly get some treats

Maybe pay some bills

It didn’t really matter

So, I apologize

Though it wasn’t my doing

But I got the fun mom

POEM - The Game is called P-I-G

The kids run around the court

Getting sweaty

Sliding along the polished wood floor

Playing a variety of games

All simultaneously

Something that is sometimes soccer

Sometimes dodge ball

And more often keep away

I shoot a few baskets

Make them pretty easy

So I think it is finally time

I’m going to challenge you

My nemesis of the court

The queen of basketball

I am so on today!

Up for a quick game of PIG?

            Sure

            If it will get us out of here

I’ll start

So she starts

Does the shots she likes

Up close

Almost under the net

But I have her number on this

I’ve learned how to make these

Consistently

After something like 25 years

And her technique gains no purchase

Next she tries from about three-quarters of a free throw

It clangs the rim

Bounces off

I gain the advantage

And I capitalize

Far right of the free throw line

Sweet shot

Mostly net

She shoots for a try and a miss

“P!”

Next a free throw

“I!”

But I get cocky

Try a backwards free throw

A baseline jumper

A big hook shoot

All of them miss

And she takes advantage

Subtly and skillfully

In short order I get P-I-G

And I lose again

For the few hundredth time

I think she cheated

Her cuteness distracts me

My killer instinct dissipates

But really

The honest truth

She can shoot

Has discipline and skills

A kind heart

            And a killer game

That she reigns down

            On this porcine challenger

POEM - The Litmus of Poetry

He seemed deep enough

Our conversations

They consisted of more

Than curse words and objectification

And call it what you will

A litmus test

A picture of a boa constrictor

Swallowing an elephant

A weighing of character

But I put him to the test

My gauge

My standard

Is found in poetry

Meaning

Can this person read poetry

Do they understand it

Will they even try

I offered a copy of my work

A thin book

He said he liked to read

Had some philosophical ruminations

Was kind and generous

He opened the cover

And balked

So I put the poetry away

Next to pictures of boa constrictors and elephants

And took a step back

Kept it on a friendly level

He never noticed

The awkward moment

Was mine alone

The sadness mine as well

As outside in the arid desert

I swear I glimpsed a fox

            In deep discussion

With an incredibly vain rose