Sometimes I like to take a word and see how many short
phrases I can come up with that use it.  I chose HAND
this time.  I won’t list words that have hand as part of it -
like  ‘handsome’, but I will use the plural and past tenses.
I tried to avoid nouns. How  many more can you think of?

     Hand of God      Hand me down
     Hand over fist              Hand delivered
     Hand made      *******
     Hand in glove              Hand in hand
     Hand to mouth      Hand it to you
     Hands off              Hand to hand
     Hand stand      Hands of time
     Hand in   *    Hand over    *   Hand off
     Hands down  *   Hands up    *    Hands off

     At hand      Unhand me
     Glad Hand      Even Handed
     Back handed      Under handed
     One handed      Cack handed*
     Lend a hand      Second hand
     Steady hand      Force your hand
     Hold hands      Lay hands on
     On every hand              On the other hand
     Out of hand      Show your hand
     Take in hand      Try your hand
     Throw up your hands         Wash your hands of
     With a heavy hand        High Handed
     On hand  *  Off hand  *  In hand  *  Out of hand
                                                            ­        LJM
Additionl words from BLT:     Hand over my heart
Hand to God       Sleight of Hand   Grabby Hands
Slick Hands,    

T S Poetry added  :  Gotta hand it to you    Overhand
One in the hand is worth two in the bush (birds)  

Melancholy of Innocence added:  Holding hands

Amanda Kay Burke added:   Shorthand    First hand   Handout

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

Wars and storms and refugees
Spoken together ring like a bell
Wars and storms and refugees
Portray the people who now live in Hell
Wars and storms and refugees
Is this the ending of the world
Wars and storms and refugees
Flying the banners of death unfurled
Wars and storms and refugees
Is no solution to be found
Wars and storms and refugees
Or will we hear the trumpets sound
Wars and storms and refugees
War and storms **** refugees
And bring the world down to its knees.
ljm

Unfit to be loved
Not even by God
Who’s promise is
Love everlasting.

Unable to heal
From wounds too deep
The scabs that were hope
Are constantly oozing.

Covered in scars
Generated within
There’s obviously no use
In praying for help.

Huddled in corners
of futile existence
The Sun never rises
And rain falls as tears.

The clock never wavers
The moments roll on
And time has no meaning
Unless there is love.

But love is illusive
It’s not bought and sold
It  must be accepted
Or else it grows cold.
            ljm

if I could only find my way
Through the gullies dug between my eyes
To quell the anger seething there
That blocks my view of Marigolds

If I could figure out a way
To navigate the wrinkled brow
And gently smooth away the frown
That generates the thunder

If I could calm the troubled orbs
That see the roadblock not the road
And show them how to look again
To see a new reality

Than I would have a mended face
To offer to the world at large
And maybe they would see the change
And welcome my serenity
   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’ve always overtly admired
The poems I don’t understand;
The ones that others rave about
And praise with honors and awards.

The ones that seem to me to be
Random strings of fancy words
That don’t create cohesive thought
And leave me searching for a meaning.

I wondered if it all was real
Or some arcane bamboozle
And I was the yokel suckered in
By the Emperor’s new tuxedo.

Deciding I would test it out
I scribbled nonsense on a page
And posted it for all to see-
It was such fun I did it twice

To see if I’d be recognized
And called out for my shammery
And taken to the woodpile,
But  just the opposite occurred.

The plaudits soon came pouring in -
My ‘talent’ newly recognized.
My bamboozle fooled them all
I laughed, but then I had to cry.
ljm

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

The navel too closely examined gives birth to only bad poetry.
The longing probed too deeply, gives rise to heartbreak.
The will to succeed can cut the legs off the ladder.
The hands of the clock are surprisingly sharp.
The striving for more, gains you nothing.
The misuse of life brings you death.
The end isn’t a new beginning.
The effort may not pay off.
The death of hope kills.
The exit is obscure.
The end is now.
The last word.
Is The End.
Finis.

ljm

You abandoned me thirty-five years ago.
Why can’t I walk away from you now.
You said I was toxic and poisoned your life.
Why am I still your main shelter in need.
You punished me for the thing I did wrong
And turned a blind eye to the things I did right.
You cheated me out of sharing your life
And you never noticed you cheated you too.
                     ljm

I used to be the prettiest girl in the room
And usually the smartest
I was the queen of reparte'
And good at almost everything

I used to always get
The biggest piece of cake,
And the seat nearest the front
Was always saved for me.

I used to juggle seven ***** at once
While keeping ten plates spinning on their poles
And dancing to the latest beat
Dressed up in next year’s fashions.

I used to keep track of everything
I had my finger on the pulse
Of what was new and meaningful
And helped to make it real.

I used to write enduring verse
That awed them when I read it
I wrote of Hollyhocks and love
In words that time could not erase.

I used to visualize today,
No longer beautiful or smart
And wonder how I’d face the world
And make my way across it.

I used to be what I’m now not
So when I make a smaller splash
I find it’s nice to not get soaked
Therefore I’m happy to be me
ljm

Lost and all alone in the shallows of the sea that is my soul
I find the water deepens with each step that I take forward.
Trying to remember if I ever learned to swim, I pause
And turn to look behind me at the raging flames, and hope
I have not somehow turned into Lot’s second wife.

Where there should be swirling sand beneath my feet
I find small pebbles that all roll and clatter with the tide
And make it difficult to stand and move ahead.
On the horizon, where the ocean meets the sky
The Sun is sliding down the waves and soon it will be dark.

There is no wind, and seagulls do not split the sky
With raucous cries and aerobatics.  It is silent
And the stillness becomes ominous and bleak.
I know that I should turn around, for danger lies ahead
But is it worse than the disaster that I just have left behind.

Standing in the rocky surf that is the landscape of my mind
I am uncertain for the first time in my long and pensive life.
I realize there is no going on or back the way I came.
Which leaves me only up and down and if I’m lucky, sideways.
I lift my foot to take a step, and hosts of watching angels weep.
ljm

• Empty vases that will not hold water
Hairline cracks across the floral surface seep.
• Pain that waxes with the moon
And can’t remember how to wane.
• Heavy air that cannot transmit sunshine
But also refuses to permit rain.
• Lotteries where no one is the winner
And the tickets cost a fraction of your soul.
• Detour signs that take you in a circle
And bring you back to where you were.
• Silence where the music used to be
And left behind is just one broken Cello.
• Pieces that don’t fit together
So this puzzle can’t be done.
             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

Across the street is our old home
But we don’t live there any more
Another couple starts their life
As we did many years before

It doesn’t look just as it did
They changed things here and there
They’re putting their brand on the place
And doing things we didn’t dare

Solar panels on the roof
The lawn an arid scene
They’re into Big Ecology
They will be living green

I thought to see it would be pain
The home I did not want to leave
But it no longer looks the same
So I no longer need to grieve

It’s just another pretty house
I have one of my own
Mine’s in a lovely desert place
That happily I now call home.
ljm

I’ll never see the daffodils again.
They come up only in the spring
And I’ll be somewhere that I hate.

They’ll be a surprise for who lives there
A bonus for fixing up the place -
A victim of benign neglect.

I wonder if the Lilly bulbs will bloom again
Special gift, enjoyed and planted by the wall
Tended well. in hopes of more red glory.

Will the roses thrive under better care
And bloom in cycles all year long
To perfume the air for someone else.

The mouses in the memory bower
Will sleep in peace without their markers
And Poco’s stone will go with us.

How much will change - how much will not
When new eyes glance around the rooms
And measure the back garden.

Will everything be taken down
So shiny new can take it’s place
And relegate its memory to a closet

There is no way that I can know
I’ll have to wait and see and hope
That some small touch of me remains
In walls that warmed me for thirty years.
ljm

They said I gotta write some things down
But I don’t liketa write and what can I say.
I disappointed my Mama and I’m real sorry for that
I tried to stop once, I truly did.  But it was so much fun.
I enjoyed cowboyin’, and all the guys too
They called us The Wild Gang.
Them months in jail was not any fun.
I promised 'em that I’d be good, but
The banks was there, the trains was there
They called to me and I had to answer 'em
I don’t feel bad for them that died.
They all had it comin’
I finally got tired of bein’ chased,
And me and Sundance tried to lay low,
But there wasn't no place to hide any more.
Both Robbers Roost and Hole in the Wall was known to all.
And them dad-blamed Pinkertons was ev'rywhere.
So we lit out on a boat, and Etta tagged along.
San Vicente was pretty, but the bank was a’callin’
Nothin’ else we could do but hit it.
Hiding didn’t work out so well that time.
All in all I think going to Bolivia was a big mistake
That’s about all I got to say.
-Butch

I want to be somebody’s Bijou
Sought after and desirable,
Exquisitely wrought and elegant.
I want to be a delicate jewel
In the eyes of someone Special.

I want to be draped in Onyx and Jade
As signs of my social status
I want to know the way will be cleared
So I don’t get my shoes wet
And everyone will be glad for me.

I want to be the special one
The one more shiny than the rest.
The one that everybody wants.
The one that clearly is the best.
                    ljm

It was such an exquisite marriage
The bride was lovely
The groom on his horse
And rain that fell as a sign of good luck.
The guests all arrived in their festive array
And it went as smoothly as carefully planned.
But the wedding cake - Oh my Heavens the cake !
A cake with no rival in the annals of time.
A cake that was baked by a host of proud bakers.
It had so many layers and so many flavors,
But way too much icing in billowing excess
With overgrown meadows of fondant flowers.
There was extravagant scrollwork around the edges
And even surprises baked coyly inside.
But it took way too long to light the tall candle
That finally decorated the top tier.
It was served up in dozens of little small wedges
To the multitudes of the invited guests
Who never saw the whole cake as presented
But only the dainty slice that they were served.
The party went on far into the night
And everyone had a fantastical time.
It must be agreed, twas a world class reception
Except for that cake - that too fabulous cake
ljm

Anna Leonowens called
The King of all Siam
“A flock of sheep
And you the only Ram”

I hear the bleating of
The flocks down at the beach
Who wander free among the germs
Outside of prudence reach.

A belwether is needed now
To step into the lead
And guide the foolish ewes and lambs
To the safety that they need.
ljm

Like walking into a massive spider web
Feelings of doom wrap around my face.
I frantically try to brush it away,
But sticky tendrils yet remain
And I have trouble moving on.
ljm

If only I could just forget
The woman I once was
Maybe I’d be happy with
The woman I am now.

If maybe I could just forget
How much I could do then
Perhaps I could accept how
Much of it I can’t do now.
ljm

Her phone in California rang
So late one Friday night
Her lover was in Tennessee
And things weren’t going right.

He said can you get on a bus
And come to meet me here
And when I’m done drive back with me
If not I’ll shed a tear.

She said “I will” and set about
Scraping up some dough
She only had a savings bond
But how far would that go

Moxie was her character
So she got on a bus
And cashed the bond in El Mirage
Without too big a fuss

A lesser lass would not have tried
To make that daring trip
But moxie-Lou could not be stopped
When she was in love’s grip.

She made it clear to Tennessee
And met up with her beau
And they drove back to the sunlit coast
That’s all you need to know.
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 cry for things I might have done
And who I might have been.

I cry for opportunities missed
And enterprise that failed.

I cry for hands I might have held
That somehow I let slip away.

I cry beause the time is short
With so much treasure left unfound.

I cry because it’s the only thing
That’s somehow left for me to do.
                  ljm

Looking at a blank screen
With a blank stare
And an even blanker mind

Where are the words that
Used to tumble *****-nilly
From a churning creativity
ljm

The fabric of society dangles by a feeble thread
That trembles with the the heavy weight of anger
And is stretched beyond what possibly
Can hold it all together

Weavers rush to reinforce the ever thinning yarn
But the sheep that usually supply the wool
Are scattered in the meadows of contention
And a worthy shepherd can’t be found.

How long can the tapestry, once honored and revered,
Remain in place upon the walls that form the room
Which shelters us from the visisitudes of living
In a world of hatred and divide.

It must not crumple to the floor, cut loose from
What sustained it through the centuries,
Leaving walls with gaping cracks that let inside
The freezing winds of vengence.

Will there be a place to hide and recreate a loom
In hopes of managing to learn to weave once more
And patch the rends in what was rescued from the floor
And seal the walls of hope again.
                                                         ljm

She walks out in the morning sunrise
And never notices the sky.
She sees the cracks across the blacktop
And the cigarette butts hiding there.

She see the runnel in the gutter
From overwatering the lawns
But never looks above her shoulder
to see the cloud-forms in the sky.

Her gaze is always pointed downward
As if there’s money on the ground
And she will be the one to find it,
Not caring that the sky is gold.

She maybe sees a flower blooming
In another neighbor’s yard
But doesn’t spot the humming bird
That darts among the blossoms.

A fog of gloom hangs over her
Obscuring every scene
She has no wish to brighten up
She is depression’s Queen.
                               ljm

Three o’**** in the morning,
Lying wide awake since One,
The sleep Gods have abandoned me
Like all the rest I pray to.

Outside on the patio now
No *****-petal darkness here -
Brilliant moon in cloudless sky
And stars I haven’t seen in years.

My symphony of hurts and aches
Is on a break right now
And there are words endeavoring
To escape my Rolling Ball V5

I  need to find a way to sleep-
To capture energy for what I’ll need
To get me through tomorrow
And the endless ones to come.

Of all the deprivations in my life
Sleep is the most costly one.
My slumber cup is just half full
Or partly empty, if you choose.

It costs me presence in the day
And attention to detail.
It robs me of serenity
As I stumble to keep up.

Four O’clock and all is well
While I’m the one exception.
The molasses-footed clock moves on
And I’m left in the shadows.
ljm

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

How many cake pans must you wash
Before they’ll let you bake one.

How many arias must you write
Before they’ll let you sing one

How many air planes must you build
Before they’ll let you fly one.

How many children must you raise
Before one of them loves you.
     ljm

I was so aghast to learn
How many more words
Merriam Webster knows
Than I do.

I thought I had
A word for every need
But then my needs
Expanded and

Roget’s became my friend.
           ljm

Committees never get things right
Egads they’re thick as planks.
They need my input every night
And seldom give me thanks.

They tell me I’m a gadfly
And I should go away,
But even if I have to shout
I’m going to have my say.

You cannot swat me like a fly
Or swish your horsey tail.
I’ll crash your meeting every night
Until I’m locked in jail.
      ljm

Lost - reality in multicolor shatters
Scattered by the breezes from the sunrise
Gaping holes with ragged edges
Filled with swirling mists of sadness

Perusing maps of certainty
The tick-tock of the day grows louder
But the tide washed out the roadway
And the darkness didn’t leave at dawn

There is no clay for making bricks
So nothing will get built today
And the penny found along the walk
Will only buy a feckless dream

A can of worms not good for fishing
Sits atop a dusty shelf above
A dog that wants more petting
Than you or I have hands to give

The echo of this joylessness is deafening
And there’s no reason to go on.
      ljm

Brands

With their duck tail hair cuts all slicked back
And their Stradivarious long sleeved shirts;
With their half-soled, horse-shoe-cleated Brogues
With the arduously turned up toes,
The heart throb elite of high school’s boys
Walked the 1950’s hallways to their class.
Small town West Coast America on view.

With their reversible, pleated Pendleton skirts
And Jantzen turtleneck long-sleeved sweaters,
The girls eschewed the circle skirts
With crinolines beneath,
Held tight by elasticized waist-cinchers.
They walked in snow-white baby-doll shoes
With never any stockings.

Those who had the wherewithal
To own the latest fashions
And dress themselves in well known brands
Were somehow deemed superior
In all the gracious arts of living
And looked upon with envy-eyes
By those who dressed in J C Penney.

It wasn’t wrong - it wasn’t right
It fed some egos, damaged others
But it was just the way it was
And somehow we survived it.
Today you couldn’t pay enough
To make me wear a brand name
And I still love J C Penney.
ljm

A nation ravaged by political *****
Unable to look around and see
The mess they made that we must live in.
Seeing only the cookies on the counter,
Not minding the crumbs all over the floor
And the rats that are enjoying them.

Hearing only the Devil’s whisper
Oozing from the screens they watch
Telling them that Christmas tree lights
Are worth the death of all the reindeer.

Remembering a yesterday that never was
And trading in tomorrow for a fantasy
Of “there’s still time to fix the problems”
And “It’ll be all right on the day”.

But that day is going to be next Tuesday.
ljm

Born at home and almost left behind
When the ambulance came,
I’ve spent my whole life
Trying to be remembered
And not overlooked.
ljm

Fox News has been
So successful
At stitching together
The bits that suit them,
They’ve just been appointed
Official Tailor to the Emperor.
ljm

The feast is over
All the guests have left the table
I hung around until the very end
But never got invited
Looks like I’ll have to make my dinner
From the crumbs.

The party’s ending
The orchestra has packed it’s violins
I kept the beat and wore the smile
But no one signed my card
And I suppose I’ll have to hum the tune
And dance alone.
                                  ljm

I hear the clanking of the gears and ropes
As the curtain starts its slow descent.
I’m rushing to get all my speeches in-
I thought the final scene would go on longer.

But I somehow forgot my lines, the prompter was asleep,
And I tripped across the brace cleats on my entrance
The apron edge is way too close.  I feel lightheaded.
I can see my understudy waiting in the wings.

I thought that I could play my role with some elan
For the entire duration of the local run
But seven shows with matinees to total nine
Have strained my voice and dulled my ears

So I can’t hit the high notes any more.
I know the lyrics and the tunes-
I play them in my sleep instead of waking up
But nonetheless I miss my cues and every note is flat.

The audience is unaware.  They haven’t read the book.
They cannot know the words left out, the blocking gone awry,
My struggle as I patch it up and try to hide
Behind my past reviews - when everything I did was right.

Tassels shimmy on the bottom of the velvet drape
As it slips down behind  me - out in front when I should be in back.
If only I could juggle - no one would suspect
That this will be my final curtain call and I have got it wrong.

The power-giving tank is empty
  And the engine’s partly blown.
  There’s also not a lot of rubber
   Left on the two back tires.
    The steering wheel is badly cracked
     And the rear view mirror is missing.
      But somehow it still runs just fine.
       Every morning she fires it up
        And chugs around the neighborhood
         In what seems like a waste of time
          As nothing really gets accomplished.
           Valued as a vintage model and for
            The speed it once produced,
             The chrome is polished every day
              And the radio still plays.
               It belongs in a car museum
                But the owner never will give in.
                 She says she’ll keep the engine revving
                  For maybe another year or two.
                           ljm

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

Too many bubbles in my life
Too many ding-dings on my phone
Too many engines on my train
Too many cobwebs on my plans.

Too much spinning around like a top
Too much tripping on my own two feet
To much hurry hurry in my day time
Too much worry worry in my night.

How can I expand the hours
How can I cross something out
How can I outrun the tick-tock
How can I survive this way.

So many questions - with no replies
So many efforts - so little gain
So many teardrops shed in vain
So many times I’ve said good-bye.
ljm

A microscopic drop of red
In a place no human eye can see
Erased the blackboard of my mind
Of all the words that make me, me.

I’m left here with chalk in hand
Trying hard to bridge the gaps
Hoping to connect the strands
And find myself again, perhaps.

I reach for words and they don’t come -
Simple words used every day.
I substitute less perfect ones
And laugh embarrassement away.

There is a word for what this is:
Lethologica it’s called.
I have it written on my arm
In case it needs to be recalled.

Thesaurus is my new best friend
Where I find the words I need
That are now locked away from me
An unexpected deep brain bleed.

My hand won’t write like it once did
The letters shrink and grow at will
I practice grade school penmanship
But write at third grade level still.

My balance is not what it was
My hands are clumsy paws
Too much saliva wets my chin
And no none knows the cause.

Yet life goes on and I do too
I offer what I can
Perhaps my words will help help someone
To take a braver stand.
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