Revisiting my approach to forthcoming knee surgery: beyond my imperfect patella, described in imperfect rhyme.
A spring tribute to the joys of Nature so close at hand.
Dealing with a surgical dilemma, I resort to the comfort of an acrostic to describe my plight.
Thoughts (in couplets) inspired by a gentoo penguin's flight from killer whales in Antartica.
This haiku carries with it my gratitude to the House impeachment managers, all superb, but especially lead manager Congressman Jamie Raskin, whose brilliance, dedication, and patriotism shone despite his grieving the death of his son.
Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, reacting to elected members who are threatening their fellow Representatives, said that "The Enemy Is Within." This acrostic is an homage to Pelosi, her colleagues and staffers--some across the aisle--who are laboring under the terrible circumstances her comment laments.
Awakened Inauguration Day Elation! Excitedly attuned in to pre-event chatter OH-N-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!! TV peculiarly, mercilessly image-free
What’s that acrid, dreadful odor? A decaying animal within our walls? That’s happened once or thrice— A facet of our coexistence ...
The Attorney General for the People Person of the US Receives Scrutiny
Once again I must turn to Bill-Barr
To examine behavior bizarre;
This is not the first time
That things seem to skirt crime
And his antics sink less than subpar.
In the world of the lovingly kind
I’ve found myself caught in a bind:
Consumed by my hate
It made my gut ache
’Twas a matter far over my mind.
I’m not about to write of food
Or remembrance of repasts
My blog is clogging up right now
And I need your help real fast.
I used to have a sub-menu
That offered all my oeuvre
But a WP Engineer warned
Its growth was a SNAFUer.
Of equipment for patients and carers
Reveal huge flaws in America’s design.
One thing I do
Not hear discussed
Applies to the “have nots’”
Vying for their tiny share of
Income from the supposed stimulus:
Registering their presence without
Use of computers and Internet?
Shadowy reminders of those we forget.
Growing up near a beach, I led a child-dylic life of sun/sand/surf
The ocean was my backyard pool; the sand my playground
Near the water’s edge, the consistency of that granular play-doh
Encouraged childhood architectural whimsy.
Candidates flailing arms in the air, bent on talking, one over another
Hapless moderators—too many, too weak to control the mayhem
Another Democratic debate,
Offering less light than heat
Seemingly not laser-focused on the context: our closeness to the abyss.
When an aroused people stands together
Elevating our shared goal beyond our individual predilections,
A portent of spring,
Still garbed in winter’s drab gray
They crowd the feeder—
Six at a time, reserving each perch.
...That Doesn't Love A Wall.--Robert Frost.
The President's beloved wall
Designed to keep our borders "pure"
Of those who seek refuge from harm
Could not withstand a high wind
The WordPress Happiness Engineers are cheery;
They respond as best they can.
But a SNAFU is making me weary;
What you're reading is not what I'd planned...
In April I cited Barr’s antics
The AG was quietly frantic
The Mueller Report
Was a strong retort
To the “Trump did no wrong” semantics.
But Bill-Barr knew why he’d been hired
And sensing the public was tired:
“There’s nothing,” said he—
So the Truth into muck became mired.
[Note: As this is Labor Day Weekend, my brain is taking a holiday from blogging, and I am reaching back to my personal archives for a poem I wrote nearly two decades ago.]
I’m trying to fathom this wondrous new world
Of black holes revealed and of wormholes uncurled,
Of hyperspace, cyberspace, space here and there,
Of DNA fingerprints gleaned from a hair....
NOTE: Gazing at a lovely picture of a friend’s daughter with her two kids--a newborn and a toddler--I found myself advising her, in full cliche: “Enjoy every minute of this time; it goes so fast!” That made me wistful about my own daughters’ younger years. Even though I realized then the flight of time, it still slipped past me far too quickly. So I dug out a poem I wrote decades ago, which was published in a local anthology. Here ’tis: