BIRTH OF JESUS
WHAT HE GAVE US -
GREATER GIFTS
THAN WALMART EVER DREAMED.

ljm

The roses are long gone
Now I search for dandelions

The cake has all been eaten
Now I dine on bread and butter

The festival has ended
Now they’re taking down the tents

The symphony is over
And there was somehow no applause

I fell into an undiscovered hole
And no one even heard me call for help.
               ljm

What an awesome duty you have on Jan 5.

YOUR VOTE WILL DETERMINE THE DIRECTION OF THE ENTIRE USA FOR THE NEXT FOUR YEARS.  Wow!

Your election is not really about the incumbents and challengers.  It is about Mitch McConnell. Your election will decide if this one man, elected by one small state, will retain the power to keep legislation             he happens to dislike from ever coming to an open vote on the Senate floor. It will give him the continued power to ignore bills passed by the House of Representatives and lock them away in his desk, never to be debated, discussed or passed by the Senate.

Voting for your incumbents will keep the makeup of the Senate as it is, and give McConnell his power for another four years, so he can hamper progress for Joe Biden, just as he did for Barak Obama.  His Goal once again will be to stymie the President YOU just elected, and limit him to only one term by keeping him from enacting any of his agenda so he appears to be a failure.

If instead, you vote for the challengers, it will realign the Senate. It will  take away the kingly powers of Mitch McConnell, and give it back to the Senate as a whole. You will  give the President YOU elected a chance to enact some of the legislation that will heal our country, save the environment, grow the economy, work toward justice for all, and put an end to our being outcasts in the eyes of the rest of the world

It doesn’t matter which party you are in - if you want any progress to be made in the next four years - If you want to see the programs and ideals that caused you to vote for President Biden come true - you need to vote for both of the challengers in this election.

The whole world is watching.

I  had  to  delete  this  poem  because  the  algorithm  that controls posts won't  let  it  post  in  the  layout  I  designed  for  it.  I couldn't find  a  hack  to  get  around  it  puting  up  a  looong  string­ of  lines,  one directly  below  the  other.  The  way  it  appeared  was  o­ff-putting  and  I'm  not  surprised  no  one  read  it.   This  is  not  the  first  time  this  has  happened  to  a  shap­ed  write  
of  mine.  Yet  I see other  writes in all sorts of wonderful shapes.   What am  I  doing  wrong?

I sip joy from the tiny crevices
Of a colorless existence.
I search out small pockets
Of contentment in the dolor, and
I patch together ragged moments
Of almost fulfillment
To create an existance
That might resemble happiness.

I wear the smile that says I am OK
And speak the words of fabrication.
I do the things that ape a life worthwhile
And go to the places that back up the lie.
I tear the pages from my calendar
And wonder that there are so many more.
Still able to lift a heavy load,
I guess there’s nothing else for me
To do but carry on, so that is what I must.
ljm

He chopped my head off.
He wanted a son and I gave him a girl
I miscarried twice and one was a boy
It was an unforgivable sin.
So desperate for an heir was he
He evicted the Pope from England
And created his own kind of church
So he could get rid of Catherine,
The mother of his daughter,
And have me, against my own will.
My sister was not enough for him-
A mistress can not be a queen -
And the successor he so keenly longed for
Must be the issue of a queen.

With 2 daughters, Henry needed a son.
Catherine gave him Mary
And I bore him Elizabeth.
He didn’t know - nobody could know
How that rivalry would one day end.
When Henry looked to Jane Seymour,
Something told me I would die.
Hoping for kindness, it was brutality instead,
And Henry fell into a chain of desperation.
With seven murdered wives as links.

He chopped off my head to clear the way
For marriage number three
And buried me in a leaden box
In his ongoing quest for sons.
He thought that was the end of me
But my daughter was made of my same stuff
And through her battles over time
She claimed the throne that once was mine
And the Elizabethan era came to be.
ljm

Crying will not help.
  It only nourishes the weeds
    That block the entrance to your goals.

Crying never helps.
  It only muddies up the path
    That takes you you to a better place.

Crying is a waste of time.
  It just delays the work it takes
    To get around the obstacles in life.
              ljm

I pass a bush on my morning walk
A big round bush with dark green leaves
Trimmed to be symmetrical.

Today it called as I walked by
Demanding that I turn and see
The first red blossom of the Fall.
The bravest and the quickest one-
Point-bloom for the rest to follow.

As richly red as burgundy,
It seemed to shout “I’m here!
And you can take a moment from
Your busyness to savor
This free gift I’ve made for you.”

Humbled, I stood very still,
Accepting beauty for my soul.
          ljm

This is obviously a challenge poem.
I hope to obtain a prize.
It’ll be an obligato tome,
A bit oblong in size

I won’t object if you become
Obdurate in your view
Of my obsequious pandering,
Introducing words brand new.

I must admit that I obsess
On words that start o-b
Considering them obnoxious
And obscure as they can be,

But looking at the obverse side
I do not want to obligate
Your absolute attention
To my somewhat obstinate
Desire for intervention.

They tell me I’m obstreperous
But they are all obese.
Their aim is to obtain my skill
And obligate release.

But I am not oblivious,
I’m observant of their ploys
So I’ll oppose this silly game
And not join with their toys.
           ljm

This is my first breviloquent poem.
Hope you think it’s a little bit eloquent.
                 ljm

I see masses of little fluffy clouds
Spilled like a bag of giant popcorn
Across the azure morning sky,
The rest of the heavens are a cloudless blue,
Tinted pink by the rising sun.
This delight is for me alone,
Gazing East from my front porch.
ljm

Walking is my one escape
From the walls I find around my life.
Watching the sun break through the dark
Over nearby jagged mountains
Gives my soul the fuel to carry on.

Those walks and sunrise vistas
Are the leitmotif of
Many things I write.
They paint depression
Shades of pink and apricot.

I dredge my store of adjectives
To find new ways to capture
All I see and wonder at
Sometimes it turns into a song
That only I can hear me sing.

“Then sings my soul
My Savior God to thee
How great thou art
How great thou art”
There is religion in the sunrise.
          ljm

I have a quiet lake of answers
For your raging storm of questions.

I have a placid summer meadow
For your hectic pace of living.

I have a waterfall of caring
For the times you feel unloved.

I have a purple sunset
When your world is without beauty.

I am a fresh baked cookie
When your soul is starved for love.
                      ljm

I find your pecuniary longings
To be so overcoming that
you have become porcine in
your search for it. Wealth is not
some truffle that can be rooted
out of the ground or society.
You might do well to ruminate
on the profundity of this statement.
                 ljm

They advertise Jergens Lotion
As a product that
Softens and smooths
But they can’t know
I have an emollient
Much better by far.
Your gentle voice
Softens my roughest edges
And your tender hands
Smooth out the wrinkles
In my soul.
     ljm

Dancing in the midst of children
I writhe and dip and try in vain
To sidestep the unease that haunts me
And somehow spin away my pain.

This is the feast I was excused from
Long before I’d had my fill
Now I only watch the diners
Fresh come from my trough of swill.

I seek for caverns of forgiveness
Turning, gliding, bending  low
Reaching out in all directions
Stepping fast while the music’s slow.

Somewhere in the beat, nepenthe
Hidden in the mournful sound
Some small solace that might heal me
Help me back to solid ground.

Floating in the hazy twilight
Reeling from tobacco’s sting
I hide behind a veil of midnight
And listen to the words they sing.

Unknown to all by my design
I fight chameleon’s blending urges
And struggle to remain aloof
While searching for my futile purges.

Stretching muscles that complain
I swivel joints that protest loudly
Pushed by demons I can’t name
I hope that I can go down proudly.
    
As the thudding beat surrounds me
Pummeling my burdened brain
I wish that it could pound to flatness
Both my body and my pain.

Is there in this darkling cosmos
Any shelter for my broken soul
Or am I chasing moths on quicksand
Doomed to hold an empty bowl.
                                ljm

The marching band had practiced
The majorettes had tasseled boots
And the Tuba was very shiny.

The Grand Marshall was famous
And the car he rode was new.
With bunting all along the sides.

The soldiers in the honor guard
Rode horses striking as their flags
And their brass buttons glittered.

My float was finished just in time.
The theme was deftly chosen
And the final rose at last in place.

The streets were lined with people
Holding cameras and cell phones,
Their children sitting on the curb.

Motorcycle cops were set
To lead the whole thing off -
Their bikes let out a roar

That drowned the sound of pitter pat
As drops began to tumble
From an almost cloudless sky.

It became a shower, which
Became a heavy rain
And ended in a deluge

My little float was battered;
The flowers were all crushed -
All my hard work was gone

The only thing that I could do
Was call out for a rain delay
And take my float back home.

I have only wilted flowers
To remember that day by,
Pressed between the pages,
Of a scrap book on the shelf.
ljm

Her translucent gown
was spectacular
but her motive
in wearing it
was also translucent
to the nearby women
who watched the men
falling all over themselves
to get next to her.
The women saw right through
translucence.
ljm

A daisy can never be an orchid
But an opera can be operose.
  LJM

She was everybody’s sweetheart;
Respected, if not loved by one and all
But they couldn’t even put her in the ground
Before they started choosing her replacement.
LJM

Ruth, you didn’t do us right
You knew that you had cancer
You couldn’t know how long you had
You must have thought Trump wouldn’t win.

And so you took the gamble.
You should have exited the court
Before Obama’s term wound down,
If you were thinking of the nation.

Your ego kept you on the bench
Until it was too late to go.
We all held our worried breath
As we watched your health decline.

Once you saw the damage
That was daily being done
To your beloved country
You could do nothing but hold on.

We know you tried to last him out
To keep some balance on the Court
But even you, with your fierce strength,
Were not a match for what was in the cards.

Ruth, you didn’t do us right.
In the final reckoning
You should have known to step aside
And save us from destruction.
ljm

It’s very quiet now
My sobbing has subsided to small gasps.
My face is wet and needs a drying but
I have no tissue and the air's
Too still and close to do the job.
It’s dark outside and even darker inside
Where the corner begs me to come huddle
And the blue screen mocks my efforts
To concoct a riddle that will save me.
I’ve tried every single thing I know
To find a way to change the past
But it remains immutable,
And I am locked inside
The Amber of regret
9/17/20

Cronyism rules the day
It guides the games
That you all play.
You think you’re having
Lots of fun,
But while you play
No work gets done.

The best jobs all
Go to your friends -
It forms a chain
That never ends.
But since you are
The weakest link,
The ship of state
Is bound to sink
ljm

I’ve been nominated for
Sisyphean Of The Week
I had to work hard to get it
And it will be harder still to win it -
There’s a lot of competition.
It’ll be an uphill battle for sure
But I do believe that faith
Can still move every mountain
And this is just a little stone.
ljm

There has to be a way
Am I too dumb to find it

There ought to be a path
Am I too blind to see it

There should be candles for the darkness
Why did I never light them

There must be a passage through all this
Why is it I do not believe

People say there is a rainbow
How can it not be in my sky

Who is the person holding me back
Why are you waving a mirror.
             ljm

I learned a brand new word today
And know who it applies to.
I thought I knew pejoratives
As well as a Thesaurus

But this one sounds a bit made up.
I stumbled on it glancing through
A  list of vintage words and terms
I came across this morning.

I’ve said it over many times
Enjoying how it sounds
It kind of rolls across the tongue
And could be used for joking

But it’s for more than just a laugh
And here is what it means:
“A shrewd, unprincipled person
Especially a politician.”

I will not be naming names -
Too numerous to list
But choose the one that you like least
And call him Snollygoster.
              ljm

I ran into my British friend the other day and asked
what he and his wife had been doing lately.  
He replied “meander went to the cinema last night.”
ljm

The blue lights will again split the sky
Though not without a battle.
The names will once again be read
But by voices on recordings.

The lingering pain, now aged nineteen,
Has not been killed by any virus.
It lives on in a thousand hearts
With no choice but ro grieve alone.

The flags are hung just half mast high
The marching bands are silent
The media is reticent
To add to the depression.

Memorials are quarantined
No gatherings allowed
But love and memories abide
In every heart this date has touched.
ljm

Doobie
Such beauty I’s beholden
The stuff of all muh dreams
So tightly rolled ‘n golden
Sealed firmly at the seams.

I’s never gonna share it
It’s mine ‘n mine alone
Not even one small tiny ****
You don’t be holdin’, so jus go home.
ljm

I once gave somebody a beautiful gift
A life changing treasure to keep
Given with love and no little risk
I hoped I had saved someone’s life

I honored that feeling for all of these years
My own little heroic glow
Something of value was given to her
And I owned a small part of the prize

I didn’t bird-dog the rest of her life
I set her free to evolve
Hoping that she would make use of her gift
To better the world that we live in

So many years have passed since that day
So many miles have we traveled
Such sudden sorrow to learn of her death
And the waste of the gift that I gave her

I do not know if her life was good
Did she go in the wrong direction
Did fate beat her up - give her no place to hide
Except in the depths of a bottle.

Not even fifty - so much more to live
I wonder what ravage befell her
That knocked her so low that her only hope
Was the path that led to the tavern

She left behind a beautiful dog
That she’d rescued as I once did her
She left me with a different grief
For a girl and a gift not unwrapped
ljm

My great job had me in my heyday
The virus then cancelled my pay day
Now I’m sending out a grim Mayday
I can’t bear another away day.
ljm

How can you be so ridiculous
As to tell me I’m pediculous.
You must admit it’s not real nice
To tell a friend he’s full of lice
                             ljm

He came to me with the allusion
Of a bump like a contusion.
The circumstances caused confusion.
I thought it just a wild delusion
That would pass with resolution
And a bit of diminution.
When I told him my solution
He declared a revolution.
          ljm

With desperation dripping off my chin
I scurry around this way and that
Trying to catch up the herd that
Knowingly is leaving me behind

I trip on stones I couldn’t see
Through all the rainstorm on my face
And stumble even further back behind

With need that pushes hunger off the list
I strive for things not physical
But nebulous and indistinct
That shimmer in the distance
And are always out of reach
         ljm

On the sad day I discovered you
Would no longer requite my love,
My world was torn asunder.
I fell to my knees in vain attempt
To cadge some trace of fondness -
Some kindred feeling, perhaps, of love
But alas, there was no shred of
Kindness offered to my plea -
No hope of any love restored,
Which meant the undertaker’s man
Must undertake arrangement of
A testimonial gathering to mourn
The loss of my true love and life.
       ljm

I know it’s hiding out there somewhere
That long sought after perfect verse
A silver dove that is a poem
And rides the wind on platinum wings
But I am blinded and I don’t know
The where or how to look for him.

I can hear his melody
And even catch a trace of words
But his glossary eludes me
And I can’t unlock the message

The pain’s a little bit like childbirth
I don’t know how to let it out.
I can’t pick up a razor blade
The need is more than only blood

Longing is a visual thing
Comprised of mist and foggy shadows
That render it impossible
To see a way to find that dove
The one whose tracks are etched in time
Across the sands of living
And the roadway to achievement

The struggle yet continues on
The beating in my weary chest
Is other than my  heart.
Another bird is trying to escape
It may not be the silver dove
But no one shuns a Robin

Somehow the vents are closed.
And little wings are growing weak.
It must not suffocate inside
Unsung, unwritten and unread.
                ljm

This year’s Estival
Was supposed to be the best of all
But a Chinese pandemic
Gave us something not to mimic
ljm

She stands before the bathroom mirror
Creating several different faces
Tryng to find the one that doesn’t
Make her look so tired and old.

Some of them make her look ill
A couple more look silly.
The one she finally settles on:
A wan and disappointed smile -

Accepted as least ugly of the bunch
It’s not the face she’d hoped to wear
In this the Autumn of her life.
She expected some small trace
Of former beauty to remain.

She tried to make a little sparkle
To liven up her somber eyes
And find the muscle in her cheek
That lifts her lips into a grin.

A sorry rictus of despair
Was all that effort brought her
So she gave up and threw the switch
And slipped away in darkness
ljm

I wish it would blizzard
Building forts is my forte
I live in Nevada
So no hope for a snow day
                     ljm

If  anyone has the right to inveigh against the weather
It’s me, folks - it’s me.
If anyone plans to stay indoors all day
It’s me, folks - it’s me

If anyone’s thermometer reads 120 degrees
It’s mine, folks - it’s mine
If anyone’s TV says Dangerous Heat Warning
It’s mine, folks - it’s mine

If anyone wonders why they live here
It’s me folks - it’s me
If anyone says the sunrise is worth it
It’s me, folks it’s certainly me.
ljm

The mask I wear
Says I am OK
That everything is perfect

The song I sing
Says I feel fine -
My body isn’t failing

The words I write
Are mostly lies
Of better times tomorrow

The wand I wave
To change the world
Was purchased at a dime store

The flag I raise
To greet the day
Is hanging upside down
ljm

When the rules say you must rhyme
I’m a muggle every time.

I muggle through the alphabet
And haven’t found the right word yet

They’ll throw me off the “Hello” site
Unless I finally get it right

I feel as slow as Sancho Panza
Looking for a perfect stanza.

Nothing I can do but quit quit
And say I took a muggle hit.
ljm

Our ship of state is being piloted by
A captain with no sea legs
and no navigational skill.
Hence the endless yaw
That leaves the passengers
Turning green and huddled
Over the **** deck rails.
ljm

In a life where malaise
Is the word of the hour and
Rules what the day will become,
I wander from this irritation
To that unknown grumble
And wonder why I feel so bad.
My need to keep going
Is fed by the longing
To see what’s ten years down the road.
         ljm

Water’s running down the curb
Someone’s sprinkler head has failed
Shall I take my normal route
Or follow and see where it ends
Silly question - Off I go
I don’t often walk this street
It rises steeply at the top
The stream comes from much further up
But I’m determined to see where...
Oh! What’s that by the puddle there -
A tiny little humming bird
Darting just above the flow
I stop to watch - this is a treat
The tiny thing with atomic wings
Hovers here and there
Than lands at water’s edge
It’s only centimeters deep
But to him it is a river
At last he settles in the stream and drinks
His needle beak darts in and out
He doesn’t know I’m watching him
Entranced
And now he dips his wings and head
And fluffs his feathers in the morning air
Giddy as a toddler in a splash pool
It feels so good
He does the same thing two more times
While I stand stock still, transfixed
At last, refreshed and clean, he  launches
Into the heart of a nearby tree
And disappears from view
I can’t see him any more
So I move on -

The broken sprinkler still calls me
I find it only two doors up
A geyser by the driveway
Burbling up their water bill
The homeowners likely still asleep
In this very early morning hour
I don’t know the residents
So I don’t go knock on their door
I’m sure they’ll see it soon enough
And shut the water off
It’s blazing hot but I feel cool
Walking along the little stream
That’s running down a street
Called Rippling Springs - how appropriate
Each morning walk is a different gift
As I make this new place into my home
But spying on a humming bird
In the comfort of his morning bath
Is a treasure that’s above the rest
                     ljm

There are things I must not think about
For if I do, I will hear the rumble
Of a Tsunami coming and
I’ll be swept away in a churning wash
Of memory and regret.

There are words I must not ever hear
They’ll cut me to the bottom of my core
And scissor open wounds no
Surgeon could stitch up again

There are photos I must never see
Of a happiness I can not share
And if I look, I’ll crumble into ashes.

There are places I can never go
For if I do it all will end.

And everything will have been for nothing.
ljm

Acknowledged as a beauty
In her youth, with a trim
Little figure that
Slowed the traffic
It did not stop,
She sailed through
Forty years
Like a butterfly.

The luster
Started fading
From her wings,
And oh so slowly
She became a moth,
Ever circling in closer
For bit more of the light.
ljm

If Jack the Ripper lived in OZ
He'd have a double name
He'd be   "That Ripper Jack the Ripper"
He was very good at what he did.
                                   ljm

My mid has drifted, I'm sad to say
You cannot say I'm lying
It's bigger still than yesterday
And that is why I'm crying.
                                ljm

Made no longer risible
From a virus that’s invisible

Not allowed to travel
Our spirits now unravel

We can’t get excited
The country’s not united

A very clear selection
At the next election

One’s a crook with orange tan
And one’s an honest, decent man

History will clearly note
How carefully we cast our vote.
               ljm