Away for a week -
But my worst fear:
When I come back
Will you still be here?
                      ljm

IF  YOU  HAD  A  PENNY  FOR
EVERY  TEAR  I’VE  CRIED  FOR  YOU,
YOU’D  BE  A  FREAKIN’   BILLIONAIRE.
                                    ljm

The jar is mostly empty -
Firm packed words and phrases
Taken handfuls at a time
And flung at parchment and the world

They did not boomerang to fill the void
Replenishing what was taken.  

The clotheslines of the hoi-polloi
Are burdened with the excess,
Straining in the winds of nonchalance
Exhibiting the lack of contemplation.

Do the thoughts that ride those words
Accept that they will blow away like dust.
         ljm

Like a candle in a blast furnace
I didn’t last long
In the presence of your genius.

My tiny light added nothing
To the brilliance
Of your Sun.

And my substance melted
In a moment.
Hopefully I left a smear
Of adoration
On  your carpet
           ljm

Of all the places in the World
How did I end up here?
Which wave did I surf
With an undertow
That swept me so far
From my roots.

What Zephyr wind did
My kite do a dance with,
That carried it away
From an angry ocean
To set it back down
By a placid one.

What earthquake toppled
The home made shelves
That held all the beads
Of my prospects,
Forcing me to sort them
All back out again.

Why did the forces
Of nature quit
Their never ending storm
And put me down
Midst rocks and sand
To leave me here forever.
           ljm

Trying to sweep back an ocean of flames
With a bucking hose until the truck’s tank is empty.
You ride through choking smoke and grit
To sleep ten minutes on the littered ground
While the giant tank is filled again.
Then back to find the area that your water saved
Has burned again, and then enlarged
So for the third time you retreat -
The only progress that you make is backwards.

Beneath your heavy fireman’s gear
You’ve sweated off a dozen pounds
And that is just this week.
It seems like you’ve been doing this
As long as you remember.
The whole world seems to be on fire.
The forests should have been enough
But fate decided homes and towns
Were more to its demented liking
With a few lost lives to spice things up.

You join the men who’ve become your brothers
While the Earth is Mother to you all
As you battle that which would destroy her
And the lives of innocents who cower
In the shelters praying that their home
May be among the lucky few and
Still be there tomorrow night
For little Polly’s Birthday
Where the cake waits on the counter.

Hero is a tiny word that carries giant meaning.
It should be the middle name of everyone
In fireman’s gear who wields an ax or hose
To tame the beast of smoke and flame
To give us back our homes and future.
ljm

California Girl
Born in the cold and wet
Of the Pacific Northwest
In a snotty little town
That never recognized her glow
And threw sawdust on her dreams.

California Girl
Went North and found her mojo;
Ricocheted from the
Peace Arch border
To the San Diego beaches
In the warming winter sun.

California Girl
Jumped to the brighter lights
Of a movie spangled city
And rode the waves of Possibility
Until the undertow appeared
And she stepped back to reconsider

California Girl
Found a sheltered harbor
By a lovely sandy shore
And started building fairy castles
Out of dreams and other efforts
As the seasons rolled and years flew by.

California Girl
Catapulted from her realm
By evils set against her,
Into a place of broken rocks and wind
To make herself a brand new life
Beneath an unrelenting sun.

California Girl
Adrift in crowds that cannot see her,
Who do not want the gift she gives.
Anchored far beyond escaping
In a place that starves her soul.
She takes the pen of contemplation
To write the denouement of her life.
              ljm

I want to be the lady who
                had a dainty stone teahouse
                                     built on the tiny island in
  the middle of Emerald Bay
                      in South Lake Tahoe,
accessible only by
          the little yellow boat with
                            the scalloped awning over it,
   which she kept by the dock
                              below Vikingsholm,
her glorious stone-built castle
                                       in the nearby pine trees.
Who is she?  
          Who was she?  
                   Why couldn’t I have been her?
                                                           ljm

You, you, you
Wanna be in love with you
Gonna fall in love with you
If it’s the only thing I do.

You, you, you
Need to wear my wedding ring
If you’d do that special thing
I would feel just like a king

You, you, you
I’m in love with you, you, you
Tell me that you love me too
And make all my dreams come true
                  ljm

Daubing paint as carefully as I know how.
An image begins to take shape
But it’s a chair, not a meadow
Filled with sunlight and daffodils.

Choosing colors carefully,
I mix pale blue and yellow
But instead of green it turns out gray,
And all I can paint with it is rocks.

I study all the Masters
And marvel at their work
My stomach knots in envy
At the skills I don’t possess

Wishing I could someday
Create something to compare
Wishing I could find the key
To unlock stunning visions.

Clean canvas and another brush
My mind can see the painting
As I work to find it in the paint
I’m mixing on my palette

I labor with unending zeal
Overpainting all my errors
Searching for the beauty in my strokes
Hoping I have broken through

To join the pantheon of Masters.
Standing back to take a look
At the fruit of all my labors
I see another painting of a chair.
ljm

Broken Biro on the street
(That’s an English ball point pen.)
Crushed by cars’ uncaring wheels
It’s ink a useless smear.

What words could that ink
Have produced on sheets
Of clean white paper
Guided by a poet’s hand.

Visions of fantastic lands
That beckon with their beauty.
Invitations to explore
Another way of thinking.

Broken Biro on the street
Was it thrown out on purpose-
Obsoleted by a phone
That puts its words into the clouds.
             ljm

Due to a dentist that I’d like to ****
And years that have put me over the hill
I’m left with a face in a permanent scowl
That says if you cross me prepare for a growl.

It’s all just a part of my very sad story
My expression’s not meant to be minatory
But that is the way the bones and flesh meet
So give me a smile when we pass on the street.

I try to remember to put on a smile.
I have several good ones that I keep on file
So trust me - I’m happy, although I look mad
If you get to know me, I’m really not bad.
ljm

The first Winter-colored sky of Autumn
Presented itself as a water-colored sunset,
Somehow reassuring; not as dreary as it should have been.
Last week it was Summer, hot and clear and windy -
Then the clocks fell back an hour and Wintertime crept in.

I wasn’t finished yet with Summertime.
There were lots of plans that slipped away,
Put off until another week or month and lost
In the relentless turning of the pages that are time.
Leaving me with wistfulness and guilt.

So many verses started and unfinished.
So many places I somehow ever went.
So much culture I let pass me by.
So many fellow travelers left unmet.
I wonder where I was for ninety days.

Later, as I step outside again, the sky is dark.
A gentle rain is falling very quietly,
As if it knows it’s here too soon, but
After years of parching draught, can’t wait a second longer
And I love the wetness on my upturned face.

The seasons change with subtilty, but they do change,
And there’s assurance in perceiving them.
No need perhaps for winter clothes
But still there is an Autumn frame of mind
That bridges sun to shadow and proclaims the march of time.
ljm

Calendars say it now is summer
So we gird for a three month war.
The object won’t be victory
We’ve battled this before.

To conquer is impossible
There’s unrelenting heat
That’s burning hot at 3 A.M.
And noon is a repeat.

There never is a cooling breath.
The breeze does not refresh.
It parches what it does not fry
And laughs at shading mesh.

Each day’s a battle to achieve
What little must be done
And hope you needn’t go outside
Beneath that scorching sun.

Mark exes on the calendar -
October is so far away
But that becomes the shining goal
We struggle for each day

We ask ourselves if we are nuts
To wage this war each year
But once the Desert owns your heart
You have to linger near.
      ljm

Fifty years of heart and soul
Sweeping back the ocean.
And what was my reward
A cardboard house in a redneck state
And memories I can’t remember.

Fifty years of heart and soul
Climbing every mountain
Reaching for a prize
Tied to a string
That every time ****** it away.

Fifty years of heart and soul
Giving and not getting
Being first to lend a hand
And last when hands were lended
All the while pretending not to notice.

Fifty Years of heart and soul;
Could it have been an error?
Should I have walked the crooked road
Instead of down the righteous path
That left me stranded in this desert.
               ljm

Gloom as thick as Karo syrup drips from a sunless morning.
Despairing winds blow hopeless dust in swirls
That stick to it and function as a dimmer.

The sound of heartbreak echos in the empty air,
As other lives roll by on leaden tires and disappear
Into the darkness of my outer limits,
Making shadows that would glisten if there was a sun.

Someone took a potshot at the sky and it went out,
And shows no sign of ever coming back.

Music is what’s called for - only that can lift a mood-
But it lies shattered on the parquet floor;
It’s only sounds a whimper and a moan.

Comfort food calls 911 to order Mac ’N Cheese
While the stash of year-old beer is suddenly appealing.

The only way to save this day is **** it
And pray for resurrection on the  morrow
When wings of hope will fly
And bring the tiny olive branches
Of a new beginning.
                  ljm

When you are in love
Daybreak brings you fairy dust
Glittering on fields of four-leaf clover.

When you are in love
Crows take music lessons
And sing to you Brahms Lullabies

When you are in love
The clock turns into Jello
And time loses all meaning when together

When you are in love
The Moon becomes your closest friend
And you can tell her all your secrets.

When you are in love
The world becomes a magic place
And you’re the Head Magician.
                 ljm

It’s not often
that a word is such
a perfect example of
its dictionary meaning.
        ljm

I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ames.
You saw potential in me that
I didn’t know I had
And found the means to free me
From the cage of my upbringing
And launch me towards
The chance of greatness.  

I apologize, because I could not
Break the shackles of my Mother’s ire.
I set my goal to prove her wrong,
Searching in too many alleys,
Looking for a brighter light.

I know I let you down, Mrs. Ames;
I had a chance to climb a step or two-
But that ended up as not enough
And sideways seemed a better bet.

I was permanently wrong.
I live among the ruins I created,
Grieving for the hearts I  wounded,
Knowing I have no more time
To try to make things right
                 ljm

The Humming Bird feeder is full to the top.
Do they not come around any more?
The tree is bare of its sheltering leaves
So it’s not out of sight like before.

In this Winter of feeling afraid and alone
The tiniest bird can bring joy
And hope that tomorrow will come as a gift
That we can unwrap like a toy.

The days have drug by at a crippling pace;
People have gone by the wayside.
It seemed like eternity marched on ahead
And life was just one frozen sleigh ride.

As we slowly awake from a desperate sleep
It’s clear we’re not out of the woods,
But at last in front of us there is a path
That will lead us from evil to good.

A light has come on in our government’s home;
The dark specter’s been wafted away.
A promise of better times floats on the breeze
With the chance for a sunnier day.

As I look out the window, my heart skips a beat
The sun glances off glistening wings
I see not one, but two humming birds
At the feeder, and now my heart sings.
   ljm

It was 12 months filled with apocalypse
That started at the stroke of the New Year.
The more we tried to make life good
The faster it turned bad and wrong.

A wave of illness washed ashore
Like a flash flood of bacteria.
Even those who laughed at it
Were suddenly mowed down.
We hid like cartoon hermits
In our household caves of safety.

The Grammas and the Grampas died alone,
And soon their grandkids followed them.
The jobs shut down, the schools all closed.
And children could not understand
Why Mommy was their teacher.

The populace was out of work;
Their income disappeared
And folks lined up in endless queues
To get a box of canned goods.

We struggled to avoid the ones
Demanding their God given right
To sneeze and cough from naked faces,
As masks were just for Democrats -
The constitution said so.

All holidays were sacrificed
To the Gods of the Pandemic
Forced to barricade ourselves
Against the breath of others,
We all learned to breathe through paper.

Mother Nature joined the fray -
Mud slides, hurricanes and floods,
Each setting some new record.
        
The West Coast exploded into flames
While the East Coast froze in blizzards
And Tornado Alley blew away.

The sun chased all the rain away
From Arizona’s rocky hills,
For almost two hundred scorching days,
While Mercury reached one-oh-nine
For a blistering ninety-nine of them.

The weather took a slingshot to Nevada
Spring and Fall both disappeared
In unrelenting heat.
Weather played a ping pong game
With thirty degree swings for fun,
And gale force winds for amusement.

The year became an endless Summer
Dog days vaulted over Spring
And every day was August.
Autumn never had a chance
As Winter barged in months too soon.

The weather imitated life
It wasn’t long til politics
Became a quagmire of discord
When an unlikely President
Set out instead to become a King
And join the despots he admired.

As everything went bad and wrong.
Children found themselves in cages
While their parents were sent home
And often lost to them forever.

Around the world they laughed at us
And his parade of sycophants
Who aimed to tear down common sense
And use the bricks to build that wall.

While those with any moral code
Tried vainly to restrain the one
Who claimed to have the biggest brain
Yet startled everyone in charge
With weathervane decisions.

Racism grew with media’s help.
We saw unarmed people die
In graphic form repeatedly.
Black men died in frightful numbers,                                      
Too often with bullets in their back.
And once a knee across the neck
Which proved the final, ugly straw.

That drove the crowds onto the streets,
Where they were joined by Bovver Boys
Who longed to only loot and burn
And turn peaceful protest into riots.

Egotism gone awry
Sent Jack-boots to the Portland streets
With women hustled into vans
While Third ***** vistas came to mind
And Half the city Burned.

Amidst the flailing of his flock,
The Nation’s Shepherd ditched his staff -
Abandoning his sheep, but not his golf.
His only thought, to keep his crown
And stay as King atop the hill.
In desperation to find a way,
He prattled on his fairy tales and
baldfaced, maskless lies.

The righteous folk had had enough
And turned the bully out
In numbers not to be denied,
But he refused to yield his throne
And tried a hundred ways to stay.

Those he danced on Ginsberg’s grave
In order to give candy to

Were supposed to stay his loyal friends
But even they refused the claim
That all his bean bags had been stolen.

He riled the Black Sheep of his flock
To swallow his mendacity
And urged them to stampede for him
And desecrate the country’s home
While he enjoyed it on TV.

Silenced on the air at last
He skulked back to his golden heap
For golfing in the Palm Beach sun
And subterfuge behind the scenes.

Getting past the bile and guile
Will be the next big project.
But we’ve elected one who can,
And normalcy will rule again.

Quiet now, we wait and see
If decency will have a chance
To save us from the boggy swamp
To once again be who we really are.
ljm



Google: Bovver Boots UK

Oh Good God - I’m busted !
Caught in the very act of being caught
By those poets who catch people guilty
Of doing the same kind of wasteful
Thing as I am now being caught for
Brazenly and boldly doing. Sheesh!

But sometimes the ideas hide,
And they have to be pried out
one word at a time.

That’s my story,
And I’m stickin’ to it.
       ljm

I need a new kind of pill to take
I’ve gained twenty pounds in the last seven months
And I have to stop all those ounces I’m gaining

I want to be an ungainly person
No matter what Merriam Webster says
And no matter how gracefully I move
And how elegantly swan-like I appear

I  desperately need to ungain every pound,
So again I ask:  “Is there a pill?“
                                                          ­ljm

The Muse who promised I could write
Has shamed me in a public way
By dressing me in Poet’s gowns
And nudging me into the light,

While all my songs are in one key
And the words I paint are common.

The shining glow of that first bow
Reinforced my fantasy,
Encouraged me to carry on
And offer up my skimpy soul

To those who know the Emperor
And what he does and does not wear.

Calliope assured me I could sing
(With fingers crossed behind her back)
And handed me a lyric pen
That didn’t hold a lot of ink.

She told the orchestra to begin
And handed me the microphone.

She promised hollyhocks and orchids,
And pillowy clouds in pale blue skies.
She said I’d write harpsichords and Temple Bells
And paint sonatas in the morning sun.

I held out my basket but it remained empty
I extended my hand, but it was not taken.

I stand ashamed at center Stage
Immersed in beauty I can’t create;
Red faced at my lack of talent
To even manage playing chopsticks.
              ljm

We all know error 501 - locks us out in the cold
Today it's error 500 - this is getting very old.
The Home page is locked beyond my reach
I'm going to pull my hair and screech.
Is it the site or is it my mac
Getting back at me for my attack.
I don't know and I don't care
There's poetry I want to share
So let me get to my home page
Before I fly into a rage.
And write some more of this bad verse
It's awful now, but  could get worse.
                                     (ljm)

One computer, two computer
Three computer, four
Shed a tear of happiness
As five comes through the door.

The last one was demented
Made life a living Hell
Devised new ways to torture me
And did it oh so well.

This new one is an iMac
Just like the one before
But maybe not as crazy-
I can’t take that any more.

The only thing I’m asking:
That it do as it is told.
Don’t make new rules in secret
Leaving me out in the cold.

Leave the curser where I put it
Don’t erase what I type in
Don’t correct my unique spellings
That is not a game you win.

Don’t crash just as I finish
Some complicated rhyme.
Erasing all my poetry
Would be a major crime.
ljm

I abhor a bore
Don’t you?
I’d adore some more
Thank you.
                ljm

None of it works for me
Not dance, not music, not even art.
Not words or rhymes or fairy tales
That talk of ever-after.
All of it is useless in this void.
              ljm

Clutching my sanity ever so tightly,
My fingers cramp at the effort.
I don’t know how long I can hold on.
The life in that other world
Creeps up behind and grabs me.
I’m gone before I can say no.
What happens if I lose my way back
To this reality’s landscape.
Fighting to stay in the here and the now
I feel that I’m losing the battle.
My legs ache from running
And my arms hurt with swinging
But I mustn’t accept their kind invitation
To take up residence in that misty place
And finish my life with those other people.
I mustn’t let go - I’ve got to hang on.
If only I had a guardian angel.
ljm

When words are often things to stumble on
And fly when touched to far away dark caverns
There is no witches broom to sweep
The sentence fragments into something sane.
                        ljm

If you don’t know who’s side you’re on,
Come stand by me, it’s mine.
If you don’t know who’s right or wrong
We’ll sort it out in time.

If you don’t know what choice to make
For none of them look good
Come join me for convenience sake
It’s something that you should.

If you don’t know what you should do
Come sit by me and learn
I’ll tutor you the whole way through -
Teach you which way to turn.

I’ll walk with you along the way
I’ll even take your hand
I’ll tell you all the words to say
And help you make a stand.

If you will put your trust in me
I will not lead you wrong
I’ll give you power to be free
And make you fine and strong.

If you don’t know who’s side you’re on
It’s safe to stand by me
If you can’t tell what’s right or wrong
Just come and stand by me.
                   ljm

After all these years you ask if I still love you.
Are you afraid my heart will walk away?
Do you fear my mind seeks other pleasures?
Why would you doubt what should be evident.

My love for you is very indissoluble.  
It cannot end. It will not go away.
There is no way to break it. It will not wear out.
It will never fade in sunlight.  It is strong.
It will not shrink if washed in tears. It’s durable.

Passing time cannot erode the feelings that we share
Nor dim the memories we’ve made in sadness and in joy
Take comfort in these simple words: We’re gonna be all right.
There’s nothing that can damage us. We’re totally secure.
So put your doubts into my hands and let me mold them
Into something that will reassure you always.
            ljm

Fog hovers just above the barren ground
Waiting for the wind
To pick it up and paint the morning gray.
Only yesterday the rain decided not to fall
But only to deface the cars with ***** splatters.

The Sun, with motives of its own devising
Cannot decide to shine or maybe hide
And chooses to just peek
Between the shutters of the trees
To count the trains as they roll by
Along the tracks down past the corner.

The summer lawn is parched and dry.
They’ve limited our water use.
But all the buried hoses still come on
Beneath the darkness before dawn
And all the local bunnies know it.

Everything is changing
But it always looks the same.
The fog seeps through the kitchen door
And makes it hard to see tomorrow
Leaving us all sitting here
Jointly hoping it will rain.
                   ljm

No one will ever read my journals
Any more than they read my odes.
I’ve left my mark so carefully
But I wrote it in the sand
And I wrote it at low tide.

You need to carve your name in stone
In words that live eternally
Not write in smoke across the sky
Where zephyr winds will scatter it.

I wanted to be recognized
A standout in the crowd
I hoped my brilliant verbiage
Would capture fashion’s eye
And I could win the cakewalk.

But the cameras turned the other way
And never saw me fan my plume.
I followed them for half a mile
But they never turned to look.

No one will note my journal here
The one who could, strives to forget.
I’ll be someone without a name
Who couldn’t reach out far enough
To grab and keep the golden ring.
           ljm

or

HOW TO GET RID OF THE MEMORY OF A LOVER WHO BROKE YOUR HEART

Wrap the memory tightly in Saran Wrap
Secure it with strong rubber bands
Lock it in a metal box that has a key
Melt the key in the toaster oven
Completely wrap the box in 7 layers of silver duct tape.
Put that in a plastic bag and seal with staples
Put it on the top shelf of the back bedroom closet
Pile old shoes on the shelf in front of it
Lock the closet door
Nail the bedroom door shut
Burn down the house
Move to Europe
Fall in Love again

Works every time.
             ljm

In an existence described as
Both boring and sere
She’s like a bright flower
Popping up in the sun.

Blooming in deserty
Rubble and sand.
Her fresh petals
Offer enticing perfume.

Her existence belies
The grimness of the surroundings
And provides a disguise
For the harsh reality of life.
                 ljm

In this modern age
It would be a sin
To be viewed as sere
But not as sincere
ljm

You’ve been married for 35 years
You’re unhappy, as any one can see
You’ve been married for 35 years
You’re 82 - there is no plan B.’
         ljm

I don’t want to be here
I want to go back home.
I never will belong here.
My piece won’t fit this puzzle.

There is a little life here,
But it seems more like a death,
Stuck on a spinning carousel
With no brass ring to catch.

It feels just like a circus
Where everybody has a mask,
A 45 in their waistband,
And sawdust in their head.

I must step very carefully
In my egg-shell breaking boots;
I must never denigrate
This culture that’s absurd.

Guardrails all around my tongue
Hallelujah in my ears
To block what I don’t want to hear
Spouted out in endless rote

There is some sunburned beauty
To be found among these stones
But it comes at far too high a price
And I’m longing to go home.
         ljm

Riddled with regret
I cringe at who I used to be
And who I have become.

Rattled with remorse
I cry out for forgiveness
But I don’t know from whom.

Saddled with sadness
I struggle with the load
That grows heavier with time.

The clock hands can not turn back
There’s just one life to live
And the Piper must be paid.
          ljm

I thought that we were lifelong mates.
We built sand castles in the air
We rode the Ferris Wheel up high
And looked down on the park below.
We raced the horses on the carousel
And it was always you who won.
I counted days between playdates.

We had so many things alike-
Ideas, dreams and silly games,
I never thought an end would come-
That you, with no farewell, would go
And leave me in the park alone.
You cannot have a tug-of-war
With no one on the other end.

The music lost some of it’s bounce
The horses didn’t prance so high
I never really understood
If it was something I did wrong
Or some other outside force
Had pulled on you to walk away
And leave me in the park alone.

Then suddenly you reappeared
Brand new hair style, altered name.
I knew at once that it was you
And ran to fetch the ball and jacks.
But after just a dozen games
You whispered  “time to go again
And this time with no coming back."

I stood forlorn and watched you leave.
The other kids were saddened too
But I, who walked-the-dog with you,
Was torn in places I thought safe.
I loved you like a special friend.
Your leaving was a kind of death.
I’m orphaned now in painful ways.

I thought a year or maybe two
Of growing up and moving on
Would cure the hollow space you left-
And to a small extent it did.
But every time I pass the park
And hear the carousel begin
I’m taken back to those good times
And I cannot but cry again.
                                                  ljm

For want of the word
A thought is lost
For want of the thought
An idea is lost
For want of an idea
The plan’s unformed
Without any plan
My world is chaos
         ljm

Clutching a stumbled-on handful
Of my now-obsolete business cards
I fan them like a deck of playing cards
And bitterly weep on them.

They tell me I once had a job
That mattered in the lives of others.
They tell me I was good at it
And never meant to give it up.

But evilness reared up its head
With prejudice and cunning
And finally conjured up a way
To take away my meaning.

I fold the cards into a stack
And put it over to the side-
The tossing out will have to wait
’Til I am stronger than today.
                ljm

Our President jets off for a luxury holiday in Florida
While America stands in the food lines.
Those you’ve pardoned will eat well tonight
But the rest will eat donated sausage.

You need to cover all the mirrors
In the halls of Mara Lago
The evil they’ll reflect of you
Will burn away the silver.

Enjoy your golf and ***** and friends
Lots of goodies wrapped for Baron
More diamonds for Melania
Who likely figures one more year

Til she can be rich and truly free.
We don’t have to wait a year -
Only thirty-one more days.
We’ll still be poor, but we’ll be free.
                   ljm

God sent a sky that promised in crimson
Aflame with the rising of the Sun
Sailing a sea of apricot and indigo
That a boy child will be born this night.

Not in the storied Bethlehem stable
Not in a far land we'll likely never see
Not in a book passed down through the ages
But deep in the heart of all we believe.

Were it not for the glorious sunrise
The clouds flung across the sky
Would bode an oncoming storm
In the cold of the Winter weather.

But the light of the angels was glowing
And the darkness turned pinkey and orange
As it faded into a cloud haloed morning
While the world in all its Winter splendor
Waited to hear the angels sing.
                                  ljm

If your Daddy was a Pop Star
Two Gold Records on his wall,
A&R men listen when you sing.

If your Mama was a Movie Star
Getting an audition is no sweat,
Just say your name, and you go in.

If your Dad was in I.A.T.S.E.         (Pronounced "eye-AT-see)
You know you can get in too-
Just learn a little of the trade.

If your Mother worked for Disney
There's a job there for you too
Unless you have no skills at all.

The Moguls talk diversity-
But that is only for their casts.
It's nepotism for the rest.

It is no longer who you know -
It seems to be who gave you birth
If you think you'd like to work
In that phony place called Hollywood.
                                       ljm

If I live long enough, my goal
Is to be the Doyen of Hello Poetry.
Not because I'm the best, though
I strive to earn that sobriquet too.
Not because I'm wise - Oh no-
Wise-guy is more like it;
But because I never ran away
Without a word
As so many others  have done.
                                       ljm

33 bounces of the Merriam-Webster ball
33 Words I already knew
33 sentences using those words
Some bounced high on the like and love tally
Some fell as flat as leftover beer
Some rolled into corners and got themselves lost

The game was fun and then called a half-time
Without entertainment, but I hung around
Determined to witness the very last ball.

This is my homage to all 33 of them
Rolled Into M-Webster ball 34.

I dropped it with no little thought for the game
Surprised at not being surprised, I observed
This ball didn’t bounce-not even just once.
The fun is the game and not the reward.
                                          ljm

I had a terrible day today
The computer ate my report
I broke my favorite crystal vase
My toasted cheese sandwich burned
I stubbed my sore toe on a heavy table leg
The letter I was waiting for didn’t come again

Then I found the half a cookie I put down and forgot
And everything in my world was suddenly all right again.
ljm

Are the Supremes gonna sing his song?
The one it took him four long years to write.
The one he and his choir auditioned in half
The states in what’s left of a Country.

Is the Nonet going to sing his melody
Or will they split into several quartets
Or perhaps a trio and two duets
With someone else taking the solo.

Are the Supremes gonna dance to his tune?
The rest of his orchestra turned him away
And the score calls for complicated steps
But he paid for their lessons in dishonest cash.

He provided new choir robes, with no lace collars
Does one size fit all, or are some too tight.
They insisted on black and refused MAGA red
In an effort to counterfeit decorum.

And still the question hangs in the air
Will the Supremes nonet sing his song.
Is the end of the world an impossible thought
Not if the Supremes agree to sing his song.
                          ljm