It seems as though I live my life
Downstage right and closest to the footlights.
I need the warmth of those glowing bulbs
To thaw a sometimes frozen heart.

I’ve learned my lines and know the scenes
But the blocking still confuses me
And I’m not sure which way I turn
To delver my soliloquy.

I know this drama has four acts
But this is intermission
And I’m waiting for the lights to dim
And call the audience back inside
To watch until the final curtain.
     ljm

There is no need to shout at us-
If your words paint a picture we will see it.
We can squint and peer through lowered lids
And find the image in a myriad of dots.

It is not necessary that you push us-
We will follow if you gently lead, and find the storm
As fierce and moving as you think you need
To act out with your thunder voice and flailing arms.

Inflection works a well as histrionics,
And a subtle tone allows us space to build
The structures that your words describe.
There is no need to hammer us.

Singsong forces us to wade into the stream
And wield our nets of understanding endlessly
In hopes of capturing like silvered fish
The thoughts we’d rather cast for from the shore.

Just stand and calmly pull away
The drapes that hide the cake you wish to share.
In simple words divide it up
And we will eat it and be filled.
                      ljm

“How Can I Find True Love” will always belong to the juke box in the upstairs dance hall above the general store at a little known hot springs resort called Sol Duc, in the Olympic Peninsula forests of the state of Washington.
I worked at the soda fountain there during the summer after I graduated High School in 1957. It was a very rustic place and there was no radio reception. All we had was the juke box. We teenage workers all lived in little cabins in the woods.  We cleaned the resort cabins, ran the little store, waitressed in the cafe, made Peanut Butter Milkshakes at the soda fountain and generally had a good time.  One day a man came to put the latest records in the juke box, including a new group, the Del Vikings.  We didn’t know which side of the record was the hit.  We chose “How Can I Find True Love” and played it endlessly.  Only after the summer ended and we all rejoined normal society did we learn that “Come Go With Me” was the big hit.
ljm

I am not The Last Spring Overture
My birth name was Spring, not Greig
And I am not the last of us
Although I soon may sadly be.
I gave my violin away
To someone who abused it
And died with it still in its case
And unavailable to me.
I loaned my autoharp to one
Who never gave it back to me.
My mandolin was somehow stolen
Off my wall during a party.
Years have brought me dolorosa
For the music I’ve not made
On instruments I never learned to play,
The voice that wouldn’t do my will.
My mind can play that Overture
And does it almost once a week
So maybe what I said was wrong
I am The Last Spring Overture
ljm

All alone in an unhappy place
Where all the walls are mirrors
And ugliness is looking back
No matter which way I may turn.

There doesn’t seem to be a door-
Just only mirrored walls and ceiling.
The cold floor hurts my shoeless feet
As endlessly I pace in circles.

The crowd of people in the glass
Have followed me for many years
Behind the curtains - in the shade-
Never coming face to face.

But here they now encounter me
With looks of reprehension…
And all I have to offer them
Are bitter tears of sad regret
ljm

Everyone knows that roses have thorns
But must there be thorns on my daisies too?
Looking for beauty my fingers find pain.

Not every path needs to be level and smooth
But why must mine always be broken and steep
And why is the Sun forbidden to shine.

Where are the birds God promised to send.
Their music is healing and I am in need
But the treetops are empty  - I hear only pain

I once saw a rainbow where one didn’t belong
And took from it hope that all would be well
The last of that hope still supports me today.
ljm

Dodging memories that bring me pain
I scurry through the obstacles
I set up for my foolish self
To keep me from the place I need to be.

I bruise my shins repeatedly
On dangers that I did not see
Due to the fancy mask I wear
That blocks half of my vision.

The need for haste is manifest
By ever looming banks of fog
That somehow scheme to bar my way
And keep me from salvation.
                 ljm

Clutching at thin straws of sanity
Swirling in a sea of madness
I dog paddle with all my might
Towards a shore that seems too far
To offer any hope of safe arrival
         ljm

Did I step on a butterfly once in my youth
That I must live in such pain today

Did I not reach out to someone in need
That my days are now crowded with hurting.

Did I never walk for that extra mile
That each step today is a torment.

Did I not study the course close enough
That agony is what I have to learn.

Have I earned a lifetime of level-nine days
When to be only aching becomes a reward.
                 ljm

I don’t know how to not be an actress.
I have no idea how to be real
What is it I really am any time feeling
And what is it that I truly want to do.
I need to tear down the theatre curtains
And stand without costumes on life’s stage

What can I use to take off the makeup
That turns me into who I am not
That covers up the scared little girl
Trying so hard to figure it out
Aching to know what the real villain is
And finding a way to subdue it.

Sensing the final act has begun
And my script is missing those pages,
I vainly search back stage for a prompter
Or someone who knows if I exit stage left
And what the script says is my final line
And if Curtain Call has now been cancelled.
                    ljm

Two headed monster who’s sole purpose
Is to **** the earth and all its people
For power and esteem unearned.

Trumpelon: two minds without a single thought
For the needs and wellness of any others.
Let the starving die and the injured wither.

Trumpelon: Promise delivered in inhumane ways.
Promises made and rationalized away
When they could not be delivered by fiat.

Trumpelon: The price of single issue thinking
Is handing over democracy
In vain hopes of cheaper groceries.

Trumpelon: have stacked the deck -
There is no way to stop them
If each of us does not stand up
To send them back to Hades.
ljm

I’m an ordinary girl
Born of ordinary parents
On an extraordinary day.

They came from ordinary people
Who lived out ordinary lives.
They never really had a lot
And seemed content with lesser.

How is it then that I was born
Always wanting something more.
Seeking that beyond the screen
Not satisfied with all at hand.

Why did I not fit the mold
That formed my sis and  brother.
It seemed to work out fine for them
But was a prison cell for me.

I bashed through those restraining walls
To seek my future my own way
Finding cliffs I could not climb
And oceans I could never swim

There was a narrow path to take
But I preferred to dance the edges
Gathering the shiny baubles
That melted in the setting Sun
And left me where I am today
Living an ordinary life

And seeking to plant Hollyhocks
Where only cactus ever grows.
                   ljm

Hell was supposed to be beneath us
Somewhere way down low in the cosmos
As far below as Heaven is above.
That is what I learned in Sunday School.

If this is true why is Hell not staying home
And minding it’s own business.
Why is it suddenly appearing here
In all  its fiery fury.

Poor Maui, California, Australia and Peru,
Spain and even peaceful Canada
Have been blistered by Hell’s wrath
And struggle to rise up from the ashes.

Have we thinned the walls between Hell and us
So flames can now escape their containment
And let us see what might await us some day
If we cannot change our direction.

If we ignore the planet we were given
And we avoid the rules laid down
If we assume there will be no judgement
And we can worship just ourselves

We’ll find that we’ve left the gate standing open
And the welcome mat for Hell is in place.
ljm

You who are slaves to the small glowing screen
Have to scramble to do just the usual things
Like brushing your teeth and taking a shower.
The lure is stronger than Hash or *******
And it is the lover you sleep with.
ljm

Poetry Challenge 1    One sentence, 17 syllables

a. I’ll get back to you later when I think of something really special

b.  I only enter contests when I think I might have a chance to win

c.  Depression is a dark room I can not escape from though I do try


Challenge 2     10 words, time, place, emotion

a.  Calm desert morning.  Why am I crying?

b.  Night time in the desert makes me homesick

c.  Rush hour in New York - worse than Chicken Pox

d.  Wedding in a chapel - afternoon bliss

e.  Prayed for hours at his bedside, yet he died


* - first challenge entries 12/21/19

Pick-up sticks and ashes
All that’s left behind
When hurricanes and forrest fire
Have done their deadly work.

Broken people searching  through
The rubble that is left
Of happy hours in former lives,
Hoping to find a keepsake

Something that will tie them to
The place they used to live
And give them strength to persevere
And somehow build a life again.
ljm

Looking for a sign that I’m heard-
Is it a bird outside my window,
A shaft of sunrise in my sky.
Is it a song come out of nowhere
Remembered and sung word for word.
How can you recognize a sign
When you don’t know what you’re looking for.
ljm

I’m trying so hard to maintain the flame
But my candle continues to flicker.
I’ve shielded it from the heaviest winds
But the breezes of sameness assail it.
I can’t see my way if it goes out completely
With darkness now poised to swoop in.
ljm

The slate is clean, as it should be.
The chalk’s beside it on the table.
But this is not a quiet room in
Peaceful calm surroundings.

The table is knee deep in mud
Of the most obnoxious ugly kind,
Spread deeply as far as eye can see
That must be somehow waded through,

Avoiding getting mired in it or even
Falling down and getting coated
With the muck that won’t come off
And will smear the pristine slate

To make unreadable any words
Of kindness, justice or fair play
That those unsullied might have written there
In hopes that all the fear was fog

And somehow we will find a way to
Sweep the mud into the drain
And justice wash away the stain
So Democracy can rule again.
        ljm

Four years is a  long, long time
To watch what we’ve long worked for
Erode bit by bit or in big chunks.
How will we survive the watching
While being headed off at every curve
By sycophants who stand in line
To get in on the unearned spoils
Of ravaging ecology, economy
The middle class and truth.

Fourteen hundred and sixty days:
What can we hide in basement corners
To keep it from being broken or soiled.
What can we bury in the back yard garden
To know it’ll still be there for us to use
When the ravaging is over and we can breathe
And try to reassemble democracy
From the leftovers and the cast-asides
That evilness bequeathed to us on leaving.
                 ljm

You’re never going to have the cake
Learn to like the taste of bread.

You’re never going to wear diamonds
Learn to appreciate cut glass.

You’re never going to hear applause
Learn to marvel at the stillness.

You’re never going to win the gold
Learn to admire the shine of copper.

You’re never going to be adored
Learn to love just being liked.

You’re never going to live forever
Learn to be your best today.
                 ljm

I think I’ve come to believe in God
And that He did indeed create the Earth.
But I think He created lots of Earths
And flung them across the galaxies.

I think perhaps He had some off time
And idly rolled up ***** of clay
Each one different from all the rest
Each with its own pattern of life.

I think He had a wonderful time
Draining His imagination
Of all the possibilities
For sentience of various kinds.

Like a crafter making quilts-
Each pattern varied from from the rest,
The planets took on different forms
And life evolved down many lines.

That’s why the cosmos puzzles us
And makes creation hard to grasp.
We need to spend a lot more time
At art and crafter’s shows.

ljm

A morning of overcast sky in Nevada
Is very like landscapes painted by El Greco.
Cobalt sky smeared with silver gray shadows
In a candy floss tumble of gunmetal clouds
Gives a subtle light that makes things mysterious
And creates a canopy of comfort for a winter day.
ljm

Twas the month before Christmas
And all through the town
The early bird shoppers
Could scarcely sit down.

The turkey was eaten
With ravenous passions
The quicker to race out
And grab the new fashions.

The bargains were lurking
Inside every mall
Inviting the greedy
To dash away all.

To forget about family
Forget to give thanks
To goal is to get stuff
Without breaking banks.

The early morn line up
Now a thing of the past
With stores never closing
You’ve got to be fast.

A big screen TV set
For three hundred bucks-
The  last one is taken
And that really *****.

If some other shopper
Should get in your way
The only solution?
That ole pepper spray!

You push and get pummeled-
You put it on plastic
You’ve landed a bargain
And that is fantastic

The Muzak is playing
The same Christmas songs
We know them all backwards
We’ve heard them so long.

You wend your way homeward
So proud of your action
To cancel Thanksgiving
And earn satisfaction.

The holly was strung up
Before Trick or treat
If you wait til Thanksgiving
You’re gonna get beat

By all of the merchants,
A few neighbors too.
Can’t beat ‘em? Then join ‘em-
What else can you do?

You wait for December,
The goods are shopworn
With scratches and paint chips,
And boxes all torn.

The only solution
Is one to remember:
Avoid all the trauma
And shop in September.

For a month before Christmas
The whole world goes mad
We use up the season
And that makes me sad.

I long for the mem’ry
Of Christmases past
When family mattered
And shopping came last,

Behind all the sharing
Of love and good times
Without all the hassle
Portrayed in these rhymes.

Exhaustion has claimed us
We need to lie down
It takes all your courage
Surviving downtown.

So you wear your kerchief
And I’ll wear my cap
And we’ll try to grab us
A short winter nap.

And we’ll say to ourselves
As we turn out the light
Merry Christmas to all
And to all a good night.
    ljm

The sky is absolutely wrong-
Clouds just never look like that.
The tumbled shapes are so not right.
There is a norm for tumbled clouds,
But this sky isn’t even close.
The shadows on their bottoms also are not right-
That’s just not how the sky should ever be.

And…Oh My God !….Is that a rainbow?

But rainbows are supposed to look
Like horse-shoes planted upside down
With one end hiding a *** of gold-
Always, always, always…
That’s the way a rainbow works.
This one is a glowing orb
Shining on the tip end of a shaggy cloud.
It has all the colors it should have
And in their proper rainbow order but
It doesn’t have the requisite two ends.
It shimmers into disappearing edges
In the middle of the tea-time sky.

No chance of any *** of gold
From a rainbow never touching ground.

It’s absolutely wrong to be there
In the middle of those misshaped clouds.
Raising questions that have no answers.
Is this the sign that the Bible promised
To welcome in the final days…
And tribulation for a thousand years
When judgement comes to everyone
And all the hens come home to roost.
The world below, in utter chaos mired
Must somehow look above the trees
To see the Portents in the sky.
             ljm

Echos from the distant past
Hide out in dusty stations
Waiting for the Midnight train to Georgia.

Feet ******* with burning cramps
Stumble through the buttercups
That always used to turn chins yellow.

But my-oh-my there’s cherry pie
Baking in the oven
That used to cook on Douglas Street.

Good grief never did exist,
I’m sorry Charlie Brown-
You need to find a new phrase.

The Ferris wheel goes up and down
Without a sound except for all
The children screaming as they fall.

Why did my Daddy **** his hand off of my leg
When Mom walked past the bedroom door.
Why can’t I manage to forget

That I have nothing to remember.
            ljm

11/20/24
ACTRESS

My life is a show
that I’m putting on
for
the audience of all those around me.
I strut and preen
and
I prance on life’s stage,
but
the script that I learned’s
not the show that I’m In
and
I’m always stage left
when I should be stage right.

I drop all my cues,
Can’t
remember my lines,
and
almost tripped over the footlights.

What
am I doing on this giant
stage.
Do the words I say
Have any meaning.
Do my
dance steps convey any feelings
to the
audience
made up of those who know better
and oblige me this turn in the
spotlight
ljm

Pretty girls get listened to
Fat old ladies are ignored

A lovely face will unlock doors
A homely face will find them closed

A shapely figure’s always noticed
A shapeless one’s invisible.

This is the way society works
Not even pretending to be fair

How do I know about these rules
I have lived by them - Three out of six.
ljm

How many mountains must I climb
To catch a glimpse of sunrise.
How many boulders must I move
To clear a path to my doorway.
And how many rivers must I ford
To leave this gloom behind me.
ljm

Lost:
Her
   Wedding Ring
         in the ashes
  of a fire
  Home burned
            to the ground

       Firemen dig
        Where the bathroom
           used to be
Now 2 storeys deep
      in charred rubble
           for the drawer
          where the ring
was last secured
~~~~
  
        Somewhere in a different
   state
   Another wife was
   praying that
          all who lost
           their homes to fire
              might find some
       family treasure
                           in the ashes to hold onto
     ~~~~

        Something  sparkles dimly
    as the ashes are removed
    Is it the wedding ring?
      It is.
          Black and crusted, yes it is
    Still round and every stone in place
   Such joy and celebration in
the midst of tragedy                                ~~~~

Miracle:
            
    A prayer has been answered
        for a Christian
       in Nevada
             And a treasure been
    delivered
   to
         a loving wife
       in California
              who may have lost her family home
    but now has faith in miracles.
ljm

She slipped away with no goodbye
No parting gasp or widened eye
One heartbeat she was here, then she was gone.

I didn’t know it was the day
When she would gently drift away-
The nurses said that time was down the road.

For many hours I’d held her  hand
And when I could no longer stand
I sat nearby to read a magazine.

I cannot say with certainty
The moment that her soul leapt free
I feel ashamed and live with secret guilt.

I never should have touched that book
It robbed me of a final look
That might have told me she was on her way.

I had to wait til Laura came
And here her call my Mother’s name
And cry out, O my God - I think she’s gone.

I tell myself it was Mom’s will
To slip away when all was still
But yet I should have stood there at her side.

I might have sensed her spirit’s flight
Or seen some otherworldly light
Instead I idly looked at wedding gowns,

I feel I didn’t make the grade
And ever since that time I’ve prayed
That she’ll forgive the lapse and love me still.

Wherever she is dancing now
I hope she realizes how
My love is wrapped around her like a crown.

And as she starts eternity
With body new and spirit free
I hope she knows her heart lives on in me.

I think about her all the while
Sometimes with tear-sometimes with smile
But she walks closer by me than before.
  
The wisdom that she shared with me-
The training in the way to be
Are part and parcel of my very soul.

I’ll always be a part of her
Through any change that may occur
My love and fond remembrance will not fade.

So though she left without goodbye
To claim her mansion in the sky
I know she’ll save a corner there for me.

And come that future afternoon
Maybe distant, maybe soon,
I’ll hold her hand in greeting, not farewell.

And she will say she overlooked
My sitting down with bridal book
And that she knows I did the best I could.

She knew the measure of my love
And as she joined the realms above
Considered me to be her good girl still.

Then all the pain I’ve hid inside
Will disappear and I can glide
Into my own eternity at peace.          
                ljm

So many pieces of 4x4 paper
So many names written on every one
So many needs that cry out for prayer
So many reasons for tears that will come.

People with illness that doesn’t get better
People still grieving for one that has died
People knocked down by the trials of living
People with terrible secret to hide.

Countries in shatters from climate change fury
Countries in rubble from war’s evil blasting
Countries all broken from the rumble of earthquakes
Countries who wonder if hope can be lasting.

So many villains afoot in our country
So many rifles in teenager’s hands
So many attacks on our family tree
So many arriving from far distant lands.

So many times we kneel in the morning
speaking the names of all those in need
Hoping that God will somehow be listening
And not turn his back on us as we plead.
ljm

America will now get what it voted for-
What it wanted more than decency.
It will unfold for 200 weeks.
Wish I didn’t have to be here to watch.
ljm

Nixon’s enemy list was
The Kindergarten primer
For the list that starts today.
                         ljm

Hello to **** America
Goodbye to the gentle folk of Ukraine
Goodbye to all hope for a Palestine
Hello to hatefulness and thuggery
Hello to self service and ego
Goodbye to seven Commandments
Goodbye to honor and trust
Hello to the end of the American Dream.
ljm

The shiny apple looked delicious
But it was high up in the tree
We jumped to reach it but we couldn’t
We found a ladder in the field
And carefully climbed up it
The rungs were covered with thick mud
And got our hands and clothes all *****
But we craved that shiny apple
Hungry as we were so long
Reaching out through tangled branches
It was in our grasp at last
Careful going down the ladder
So as not to drop the prize

Now time to take that first big bite
And oh how sweet the juices flowed
We’re stealing an admiring look
When suddenly we spot the worm-
It’s bad enough to see it there-
But what remains is only half
And something tickles in our throat
Will we fling the apple far away
To retch and spit and beg a mint
Or stay and eat around the worm.
ljm

How many times must the helping hand
Be bitten, slapped or pushed away
Before it never reaches out again.

With motives pure as a newborn’s eyes
I offer everything I can to help
With what I can’t afford to spend

And hours I really shouldn’t take-
And every time it is a sham
And all my help is nothing.

All I want is just one chance
To save a life or make the day
For someone who is sinking

And without hope of aid or rescue.
But it never seems to go that way
The homeless throw away my blankets

And tell me they can’t eat my lunch.
They take my funds and skulk away
To add it to their horde,

While I beat up my aching bones
To earn enough to try again
In eighteen hour workdays.

Is there really no one out there
Waiting for my caring grasp
To pull them from a certain death.

Is there no one disadvantaged
Who will bless fate for the coat
I’ve taken from my closet for them.

Is there no life that will change
In the minutest way because
I strived with all my might to help them.

This is life’s unkindest blow for me-
That I’m denied the hero’s role
And every hand I reach to save
Draws back and turns to walk away
With laughter echoing across
The distance to my downcast eyes.
ljm

F    Fear the water God says you must walk across
A   Allow your mustard seed to germinate
I     Implore the Lord to take your quaking hand
T   Trusting that your feet won’t sink into the brine
H   His hand is strong in yours, so step out now in faith.
                 ljm

If he loses, he promises war
If he wins, it’s total destruction
There is no safe pathway
Out of this dark woods of terror.

Can we balance a marble
On the tip of a dagger
And keep it from rolling off
And taking us down with it.

Can we dig a deep hole
That’s big enough to bury
All the laws that we need to preserve
So we can retrieve them one day.

If he loses he promises chaos
If he wins democracy dies
We must find a way to balance that marble
And manage to salvage our country.
ljm

Like a Gingerbread village
Smashed by an angry child
The
     broken
                  pieces    
                            lay
Scattered across the desert.
             ~/#^//~•º#~

Every shard a broken dream
And hopeless vision of the future.
Every
            pile
                    of
                          crumpled!rubble
Hides beneath it bleak tomorrows.
                  ~/#^//~•ª#~

What can ever be constructed
From the
                frac
                        tur
        ­                        ed
                                      shards of
Hopelessness and heartless evil.
That bar the road to being whole again.
                           ljm