My Words

Understanding the World through words

Sailing—poem

Work your magic
calling on fate
My left eye is glitching
Like an analog TV
with static electricity.
The perils of a few more
years under the belt
A few more beers too.
Reminds me of a plump
Beachball someone forgot
that it ends up on the side
of the road
drifting
sometimes sailing with
the wind, until it gets stuck.
Calling on magic and fate
I’m tired of getting stuck
being in a rut—
I like the feeling of sailing along
being carried by the Pacific breeze.

Memorial Day 2016-poem

The live oaks are green
almost impervious to drought—
Alive.
My kids are alive,
swimming in a resort pool
while I watch them
scream with glee.
The grey squirrel almost blue
running up and down the seasoned tree
showing off for a gallery of kids.
Excited, ecstatic, joyous
“Look at the squirrel.”
Alive.
If those who paid the ultimate price
could see what I see,
Perhaps they’d say
it’s a price worth giving…
While the living celebrate life
on another Memorial Day—
and the live oaks continue
to grow green leaves.
Alive.

 

 

Camping-poem

We are messy campers

Our campground isn’t littered.

It’s just that everyone around me

except one neighbor have new rigs,

new trucks, large and expensive toys.

I have a 70’s pop up that I love.

It’s constantly needing attention.

Yesterday, I sewed the netting.

The door doesn’t close right.

The color is faded.

My daughter’s boyfriend Nic

Said, “it was camping swag.”

Like me, he loves it.

My neighbor has

a 70’s camper too.

When I saw his, I loved it.

I told her, “your camper’s cool.”

I finally got the the door fixed.

That got Nic -oohing-

I improved my camping experience

by a margin of twenty.

Even my wife said with a smile and hug,

“I’ll give you a little treat.”

I bet my neighbors don’t get that

kind of attention,

all their toys work fine.