Rail and roar, oh thunderous storm!
I hear your hail and weeping!
Allow me to answer your tumult and gale
Before I return to my sleeping.
Such rage and such fury!
What billow and rain!
Go rend all your garments
And wail your refrain!
Crash on and roll over, oh thunderous storm!
I hear your raw wind and peeling!
Allow me to dance in your madness and maw
Before I return to not feeling.
Such madness and worry!
What gales and rain!
Go brace ‘gainst the Heavens
And scream your refrain!
Break hold and speed onward, oh thunderous storm!
I hear your howls and flailing!
Allow me to weep as you fade in the sky
Before I return to my sailing.
Such sniffles and nonsense!
What drizzle and rain!
Go settle to breezes
I’ll sing your refrain!
Month: January 2015
Minding the Small Things
StandardIt is an impressive feat
That a small and insignificant instant
A muddied, rusty, moment
Can somehow stretch across the sky
Can somehow poison a well
And mar a mood in total.
As when a drop of dark paint
Darkens a whole glass of water
Or a paper cut on a cuticle
Distracts from an otherwise functioning body
How marvelous the mind
And its strength to hold onto thumbtacks
When there are peaches present.
Murder of Crows
StandardA murder of crows
Flew over the boughs
But the children did not heed them.
For every child knows
That the carrion crows
Leave the bones of those who need them.
For one day all men must feed them.
As children grow,
And run below,
The crows above will heed them
For every crow knows
We to ground must go
For one day all men must feed them.
Leave the bones for those who need them.
Ode to my Honda in the Snow
StandardIn all the freezes of the years,
You’ve always started without fuss.
whrr-whrr-click hmmmm
Beautiful music to my frostbitten ears.
And though I know you detest the snow,
Can’t abide slush, and fear the ice,
You have yet to lead me to my death.
For that, I am so grateful.
And now, as we face this hill in the snow,
As I hesitate to accelerate
As your back wheels slide and you whine,
I have faith in us.
Charge on, old Honda!
Charge on and up!Wheels spinning more than necessary,
Heater working like gangbusters,
You take me up the unplowed highway,
Soothing me while others lean on horns
And swear that I could be going faster.
You, oh lovely, lovely car
Lose your feet but not your head
(Mechanically, the wheels but not the carriage)
And reassure me as your anti-lock brakes
Seize up and slide me through intersections,
That you would stop, if you could.
Oh, my beloved car.
I will drape you in the fanciest car washes!
I will fill your tank with the richest of washer fluids
(If your wipers worked below freezing, that is)!
I will vacuum you on a regular basis!
I will stroke your dashboard and let you know
That you are my darling, my dear,
My ill-equipped husky,
And together we will brave this Midwestern tundra,
Till the glorious summer roads return…
If only you keep me on the road
And get me safely home again.
Ode to a Marriott Turkey Club
StandardYour surly fingers try to hide
the obvious joy you feel at handling latex gloves.
Taking two glorious pieces of white bread,
White as the Queen’s tablecloth
Factory, bulk-made light bread, you trudge to the toaster.
But I know better – I can sense your anticipation.
And then – oh blessed lady – the mayonnaise
The tart but sweet condiment spread thinly on the toast,
Your knife a brush on a canvas of yeasted perfection.
Oh, do not curl your lip, Heavenly creature, as you handle
the turkey, the tomato, the lettuce! You cannot maintain
Ennui when handling bits of culinary paradise.
You lay each with the precision of minimum wage calculations
The expertise of time tables
And the secret love of a chef working the late shift.
What sound could I hope to make to impress upon your glowering eye, your pursed lips, your indifferent hands,
The towering testament to sandwich in my hands,
The climactic crunch of a 10pm late flight appetite appeasement!
Words shame the first bite.
The masterful combination of flavor and texture –
The sweet turkey, the salt of the bacon,
The fresh burst of tomato, the smooth lettuce,
A symphony for the taste buds, gastronomic bliss.
Oh, sweet Muse of the Marriott cafe,
You could never achieve anything less than perfection.
And my tip shall reflect my rapture.
Back from Hiatus
StandardI am back from a brief Hiatus!
I use a capitol H because it was important
I say capitol because the H is the center of this idea.
—
Right – this week is going to be all about odes. It is not a New Year’s Resolution to be more positive or any such fluff, but lately I’ve found myself grateful for things. So I’m going to write my gratitude out in poetic forms.
Yes, I’m even working on one for you, surly waitress in the hotel restaurant. You can’t deny you made me a delicious (spit free!) sandwich…
