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(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)

                                        Arrogant
­Book Soldier
Conceited
Con Artist
Covetous
Cunning
Deceitful
Disingenuou­s
Egoist
Egregious
Envious
Entitled
         ­                               Evil
Haughty
Hypocritica­l
Ignominious
Immoral
Jealous
Jumped Up
Machiavellian
Martinet
Mendacious
Nit Picky
                                        Obsessed
Peck Sniff
Perfidious
Persnickety
Pompous
Popinjay­
Predatory
****
Rapacious
Regimental
San­ctimonious
                                        Self Important
Shylock
Smarmy
Sophist
Supercilious­
Unctuous
Unethical
                                   ­     Vile
                                        Vicious
       ­                                 Zealot
       ljm
Obviously I have encountered someone who has wronged me egregiously and created the need for this tsumani of hatred to spew from my mind to this page and enable me to function as a caring, loving person again.
I also see the site won't let me list the words in a straight row.  Don't know why some are popped out of line when I hit the save button.  DANG!  Maybe the muse of poetry is trying to tell me something.
742 · Feb 2023
CATACLYSM
Like a giant crystal chandelier
Suddenly dropped from altitude
The flimsy walls of distant Turkey
Now lie shattered on the ground.

All the promise of tomorrow
Was cruelly ended yesterday
When forty thousand lights went out
And hope was buried in the rubble.

The miracles have come and gone.
No one survives beneath those piles.
New holes are filled with lives cut short
With sorrow shoveled over them.

There is no point in cursing God
What’s broken down must be rebuilt.
The Bible warns of things to come
And Turkey is a diverse place.
ljm
Turkey, Ukraine, Both sides of the world are in rubble.  Where does it strike next.
740 · Jul 2023
DESTINY
Fate is a neon-lit pinball machine
And I am a little steel ball
Dodging the "tilt" sign as best I can
                                           ljm
How many of you remember pinball machines
How many of you don't know what they are
730 · Mar 2019
NEWCOMER
Walking streets
Where I’m unknown
I stifle sobs
And dab my eyes.
I don’t belong.
I don’t fit in.
There’s nothing here
That smells of me,
That looks like me,
That calls to me.

I climb a hill
To watch the sun
Pour pink and gold
On lacy clouds.
I scan the valley
Full of houses.
Which one is mine-
It’s hard to tell.
they look the same
But I do not.

My footsteps do not
Fit the path
I need to walk
If I’m to find
A welcome here
I worship the wrong
Ideals and ideas
And I must hide
Behind a silent smile
Lest I be ushered out.

I cannot run
I’m here to stay
There is no other
Universe for me.
I’ll choose a
Another middle name-
Chameleon sounds right.
I’ll make them think
I’m one of them
And blend into a life.
                ljm
Another old one (well, 6 mo. old, anyway).  From my "I don't want to be here" period.  I'm better (resigned) now.
730 · Aug 2019
FLOCKS
Flocks of birds
Across the morning sky
Tell me
I’m not in the city any more.
             ljm
Don't know what they are, just know they're beautiful.
730 · Jul 2019
VIEW FROM WATERCREST STREET
VIEW FROM WATERCREST ST.

Clouds that look like something
           A novice wedding baker
                    Would pipe onto a cake

Spread themselves across
      The distant mountain tops
                   In swooping shades of
                            Peach and cobalt blue.

The sheet cake of
          Remaining sky
                Resembles Blueberry Yogurt
                        Swirled with apricot jam.

As quickly as this
         Wondrous dawning scene
                               Appears, it fades

To ordinary morning
          Clouds, and sky that hints
                      Of rainstorms and
                                         Humidity.

What did I do yesterday
          That earned me
                      This reward today.
ljm
725 · Nov 2017
TERMINATION
I’ve given up everything,
apparently for the express purpose of  
finding myself here with exactly nothing
and no place to put it.

ljm
Tomorow may well turn out to be catastrophic.  We'll see.
722 · Jan 2017
ALONE WITH YOU
I live my life alone with you
You're here, but not with me
You travel in a different orbit
That only sometimes crosses mine.

My cup of joy is not half full
It's cracked and liquid seeps away
To vanish in the same place as my tears
Though it looks pretty at a casual glance.

The things that once beguiled my heart
Now chafe up blisters on my soul
I try to tell you of my pain
But we don't speak a common tongue.

Our eyes don't look at things the same
Our ears perceive two different tunes
When I reach out to take your hand
It feels like 'dead man's finger' -

Childhood game in a grown up world-
A guarantee of shivers
In the eeriness of misperception
That so mirrors all we do.

Now I'm lonely in bed beside you
Back to back with dog  between
The distance that we've slid apart
Measures out in months and  years

And I long for a sharing touch
To tell me I don't live alone
It isn't there although I search
Leaving me empty, lost, and all alone.
                                 ljm
Google "the dead finger" game
720 · Feb 2017
FORBIDDEN CANDY
I’ve been to the shop
to watch it
being made
unchanging and unchanged.
Sorcerers in snow
white helmets,
reading my childhood
and all the places
I have been
with wooden spoons
carved
from Longview timber
seasoned in regression’s oil,
added limpids to the mix.
See through taffy in the candy kettle.
I once gazed
into the window
at everything
I was too young to buy
then spied a nickel
in the rubble of the gutter.
Found a way to dig it out
and went in.
The gutter went in with me.
Sunlight has a way of hiding things
That glitter in the darkness.
Sugar’s haze
obscures so many
arrow signs
but you can
taste it with each breath,
and some is not enough.
How much to eat
Rises with the tides of time
And falls with its forgetting.
Without another penny
there must be some other way
to backtrack
to the longing sated
and find the peanut in the middle.
*ljm
Thinking of the little home made candy shop in my childhood home town.  And other things.
719 · Dec 2018
LIMERICK FOR HAWSIE
There was a young lady from Hants
Who had trouble finding her pants
She looked high and low
And strip-searched her beau
Who’d speared them as flag for his lance!
ljm
Gotta do it every now and then.
714 · Dec 2016
RULES TO LIVE BY
Play fair
Wait your turn
Don't cheat
Help the other guy
Don't be cruel
Don't be selfish
Be friendly
Be kind
Care about the Earth and its people
Take what you need and leave some on the plate for the other guy
Smile more than you frown
                                  ljm
That longest line came from my late father-in-law, the most honest and upright man I've ever met.
712 · Aug 2017
WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN
BY JENNY JOSEPH

When I am a old woman I shall wear pirple with a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.  
And I shall spend my pension on bandy and summer gloves and
satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along public railings and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain and pick the flowers in other people's gardens.
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat and eat three pouds of sausage at a go or only eat bread and a pickle for a week and hoard pens and pencils and beer mats and things in boxes.
But  now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We shall have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old and start to wear purple
The wonderful write by Sally A Bayan titled "Sepia" inspired me to dig this out and post it here for her.
704 · Feb 2017
HE (10W)
He offered me a
golden future.
It came postage due.
           ljm
My world has seen  too many of those
700 · Apr 2017
THE CORNER
From the darkness of a midnight corner
a sudden gleam - light on a shiny surface      
wet where everything is always dry a
lump of something darker than the night
huddles in a heap against the plaster
broken by the jackboot toes  of time
rushing through to other places
There is no definition to the shape
that quivers but does not ever move
or shift the silent air with breathing

From the corner where no light invades
the shadow of a recent battle
hides the echoes of the last defeat
and muffles cries for help to come
and blends itself into the blackness
that’s both transparent and opaque
presenting as a silly fun house mirror
changing all perceptions of reality

In the murky gloom that dominates the corner
keeping time to music no one hears
the marks left by the whip are hard to see and
seeping red drops fake the look of ink
The half closed eye is leaking little rainbows
made from seven shades of ebony
that fall and ****** on the carbon floor
as the clump of misery refolds itself
in ever smaller, tighter packets tied with screams
that ricochet into the vastness of forever.

No White Knight or Unicorn
will ever find the corner
The spotlight of humanity
sports a burned out bulb
The gentle hand of kindness
is rolled into a fist and stuffed
into a pocket of uncaring.
The corner was
The corner is
The corner ever
more will be
             ljm
Things have not gone well at work lately.
687 · May 2018
NOW
NOW
I once wrote a list of things
That represented me :

Smoke from a discarded cigarette,
Rain on the Ocean,
A saturday matinee.

I wrote that I was a penny
On a train track, waiting.

             ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Well guess what, folks-
The engine  has arrivd.
        ljm
THIS IS A REVISION.  I was a lot younger when I wrote the first part...trying to figure out who I was - I listed a lot of things that I thought represented me.  Now, I add the coda to those thoughts as my world comes crashing down around me.
684 · Jun 2023
RELIGION
I gave half of my heart to Jesus
And the other half wallows in doubt
Casting dark shadows over my soul.

Why does the road always seem crooked
When the Bible tells us that it is straight.
Is it because I can’t read the map clearly.

Why are my every-days so dark and gloomy
When God’s love shines with such a bright light
That only requires opening the shutters.

Biblical verse is awash in enigma;
Where one place orders that you must stand tall
And another proclaims that you need to bow down.

The  half I committed is safe and contented
The half that is doubtful is lost and alone
The two halves at battle have left me immobile
For neither has won and only I lost.
               ljm
Still looking for an answer.
678 · Sep 2022
FACES
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 remember seeing my mother standing in front of the mirror trying different ways of smiling and holding her face.;She wasn't happy about growing older. Hey...neither am I.
672 · Apr 2017
BARMAID
Standing on the sidewalk
Hearing all the back talk
Watching while they cakewalk
Wonderin’ how I got here.

Step behind the bar table
Fool yourself if you are able
Tell yourself this ain’t no stable
And them ain’t dumb animals.

Start a conversation
End it in frustration
Why the aggravation
You know ******* can’t talk.

Turn into a pill head
Drop ‘em til you see red
Wish that you could be dead
Or anywhere but here.
                   <<>>
Tried this one summer in my youth.  Hated it.
668 · Jun 2022
2 LINE RHYMES
I think that I will take the time
To come up with a thrilling rhyme

If you could see me yesterday
You’d  know I’m not the same today

If I could win a golden prize
You’d see it shining in my eyes

The seaside is my spirit’s place
To step outside the rodent race.

I have a tale I want to tell
but rhyming will not do it well

te-dah te-dah te-dah te-dah
Pentameter’s unfailing law

Restricting laws I can’t abide
So I’ll set rhyming verse aside.
                               ljm
This started as an exercise and morphed into a complaint
665 · Jul 2017
REUNION 6
for Pradip Chattopadhyay

What is the magic that pulls us ever back
To gather in a circle of remembering
And sharing in the glow of friendship
That time and miles can’t dim.

Why do we make our plans and get the things
We need to guarantee that we will get here
Out of the hubub of still busy lives
And the lethargy of quiet ones.

What is the reward for walking native streets
And looking at the things that made us “us”,
When most of us have sunk our sturdy roots
In places very different from here.

Who have we beome as life and time
Have lifted us and pulled us down-
A few to never rise again-
But most to stand astride the life we made

And tell the world and one another
That the soil of Longview nourished us
And helped us grow to be the trees
That make the forest beautiful.

That Cowlitz County lumber cut straight and true
And built a sturdy framework
That the young can climb to find their way
To make the world a better place.

We stood up proud and did our job
Now we can enjoy what we created
And share it once again with those
Who were with us at the starting of our journey.
ljm
Pradip posted one about a Reunion from a different perspective, and I was just finishing this one for my HS reunion in Sept.  (I'm their "official poet") so I couldn't resist throwing this one up.   (Please don't throw up- it's messy)This is sappy as all get-out, but there are 5 previous ones just as sappy, and you'll never have to see them.  Please forgive me this indulgence.
664 · Feb 2017
ENIGMA
Why do I reach out to comfort the whole rest of the world
And have no pity for the little girl that hides in my dark corners.
Why do I extend the hand of empathy to everyone but me.
Why is it I don't find me worthy of the love I give to others.

There is no answer to those painful questions.
No one to ask - no book to read.
I either find a pathway to the sunshine
Or content myself to live in shade.
663 · Apr 2017
A GLEANING FROM PANDEMONIUM
A futile pen, mortally wounded
By the razor hands of a leering clock
Lies bleeding;
Staining irrevcocably
The snow-white side-ruled shroud
That once was hunger's meal;
Casting low, long shadows
Over unborn, nonexistent lines.
                     << >>
This is the copyrighted title for the book I will eventually publish - if I have to handwrite it myself.  But this piece may not be in it. Not real satisfied with it.
663 · Mar 2017
MASQUERADE
Standing on a lily pad
In a very unfamiliar pond
I determined not to get my feet wet-
But the splashes felt so good
I reached out instead of drawing back.

Who wold have known I was parched-
I didn't even know I was thirsty.
                      
An affair that almost happened
663 · Nov 2022
BUTTERFLY
In a bowered place that only
Pixies know about
Tucked down between
The weeping willow’s boughs,
And not far from a singing rivulet
There lives a butterfly with gorgeous wings,
Transparent in the morning sun  
And luminous at twilight.
Her wings are patterned in chartreuse
With royal purple fantasies
That end in trailing gossamer.
Feeding on the buttercups and clover,
Her afternoons are bathed in a tranquility
That obviates the need to fly.
And so the gentle butterfly does not,
But rests and ponders what is on the breeze
That transforms air to symphonies
And blends with everything nearby
To make a perfect potpourri
Of serenity and peace.
ljm
Been trying for 8 days now to post this. Not sure it's worth the anger and frustration of the Bad Gate Wall If this keeps up maybe the overload of Newbies will all get disgusted and leave and let us old-timers post again. Where the Hell are you, Eliot? What are you doing?
659 · Sep 5
INVASION
The door is slowly opening
I can hear the hinges creaking
As it is forced to move.
What pagan wind invades
The solace of this silent chamber
To move what has grown stationary
In the effort to hold back
The machinations that are
Fluttering like brazen banners
On the brightly gilded lances
Of the mavens of decay
           ljm
Don't ask me- I just write 'em  - I don't get paid to understand 'em.
640 · Feb 2019
9 - 5 LIMERICK
There once was a miss from Nevada
Whose job was correcting errata
She did such good work
   Her boss gave her a perk -
In the form of a brand new Sonata.
ljm
Banged out three. This one was the best.
628 · Jul 2017
OVERLOAD
My life has become very like
Ballet dancing in a cactus patch
In the dark of night.

It's better than a mine field
You don't get blown up
But you do get pricked a whole lot more.
                       ljm
623 · Aug 2022
ROAD TRIP
Gotta get out of this desert place
With cloudless sky and burning sand
With lizards under every bush
And crows in every withered tree.

Wanna go where the air is cool
And soft refreshing breezes sway
The tendrils of the flowered vines
That climb the branches of the trees

But Kismet’s karma has decreed
I need some more of hot and dry
The place I go will be the same
except for one small saving grace.

The sun takes all the heat along
When it decides to go away
So things cool down at evensong
And I can live another day.
ljm
Taking a drive up Route 66 to Albuquerque, NM  for a Laurel and Hardy Buffs convention. Gonna hit every site along the way including Sky Walk and the Grand Canyon Steam Railway for starters. Waited 3 years for this trip. Gonna eat it up like candy. See ya in 2 weeks.  
Behave yourselves while I'm gone.
619 · Nov 2017
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Happy Thanksgiving
    
Hollow words
thrown out like confetti
to land where they will
on the well manicured lawns
of the houses of plenty
and the cardboard beds
of the hopeless homeless

Happy Thanksgiving

Words as flint to
Spark the tinder
that flares into flame
that warms some and
chills others who are
celebrating things
that no one
woud be thankful for

Happy Thanksgiving

To those with little
to be thankful for
except the lack of dyeing
and a list of shiny promises
most already broken
with the pieces
scattered on the floor

Happy Thanksgiving

Greedy merchants
rub their hands
And hide the day
in bargain hunts
For things that
don’t bring joy
but just more need

Happy Thanksgiving

Living in a little corner
of the furor that is life
a tiny candle in the shadows
holding out the hand of hope
of kindness, even love
sharing what has been
stored up for use
this day and every day
to live the meaning
of the  word Thanksgiving.

ljm
My holiday is a little tarnished this year, but I'll salvage what I can and be grateful that I can do it.  HP is one of the things I'm most thankful for.  You all have given me the gift of acceptance and validation and I thank you one and all.  It's more valuable than gold.
619 · Oct 2023
ISRAEL'S REPLY
You hit us with a very big stick-
We’ll smash you with a log.
You spit on us, right in the face-
We’ll drown you in a sea of fire.
You crept up on us in the dark-
We’ll light your sky with vengeance.
You’ve bit off more than you can chew-
We’ll make you choke on your mistake.
You’ve opened up a door to Hell-
And we’ll make sure you end up there.
ljm
No words needed here.
618 · Feb 2017
EXPLANATION II
Joy stills the pen that gushes forth in sorrow.
Happness is lived, not written down.
Tears can best be dried on ink soaked paper.

Happiness will dance off of the pages.
Heartbreak rides on words into catharsis.
The butterfly of glee can not be captured.

Pain is limned in black and trapped by parchment.
Happiness is painted on the sky.
Sadness wallows in the dirt of midnight.

So my pages overflow with misery
While gladness hides away inside my heart.
                                ljm
Relatives have called my stuff dreary.  The above is probably why.
616 · Feb 2019
WEBSTER SAYS
POEM
1. an arrangement of words written or spoken: traditionally a rhythmical composition, sometimes rhymed, expressing experiences, ideas or emotions in a style more concentrated, imaginative and powerful than that of ordinary speech or prose; some poems are in meter, some in free verse.
2.anything suggesting a poem in its effect.
Webster's New College Dictionary,  4th Edition
616 · Mar 2017
DARK CLOUDY DAY
On a dark cloudy day in a forest
The sun peeps through
The branches of my soul
And warms me.

In a gloomy, silent woodland
A bird I cannot see
Begins to sing the beating of my heart
And cheers me.

Hope, like a butterfly’s cocoon just opening
Springs into view
When brambles are pushed aside,
And I discover life again.

And thank the fates
I lasted long enough to do it.
ljm
615 · Jan 2020
NY EVE
I had a stroke on New Year’s Eve,
The night before my Birthday.
There were no candles on my cake
Or fireworks in my midnight sky.
No one sang Happy Birthday
As the helicopter flew me
To a distant place of healing.

I had a stroke on NewYear’s Eve.
It came to me on stealthy feet.
No sagging face or falling down.
The golden hour passed unnoticed;
Just a heavy arm and leg, to
Make me pause and wonder.
But then my hand picked up a pen.

I had a stroke on New Year’s Eve;
Discovered when the trembling hand
That held the pen no longer knew
The alphabet or how to form the letters.
When writing became micro dots
And repetition didn’t help
What once was sloppy, now unreadable.

I had a stroke on New Year’s Eve.
My life is changed forever.
I didn’t die, not paralyzed,
I got the finest care.
I will get back what I have lost
But with it comes a lifelong fear
Of another lurking in the shadows
ljm
Yes, my Birthday is New Year's Day.   I've always had the day off work, but no one comes to a party on New Year's DAY. The best I get is "Happy Birthday" sung after Auld Ang Syne at midnight. But I woudn't trade it.
605 · Dec 2017
DENOUEMENT
THE ANGRY WATERS
that recoiled and threatened a tsunami
lie placid now, bacalmed and still
as shiny as a glass topped dining table

THE HOWLING WINDS
that longed to be a hurricane
have settled into zephyrs and soft breezes
that barely riff the petals of the autumn roses

THE RAGING THUNDER
that tried so hard to break the windows
has rolled on and is nothing but a distant echo
that recedes as fast as memories of childbirth pain

THE VICIOUS RAIN
that threatened to go flooding
has slacked off into a gentle winter mist
that wraps the dawning sun in silken haloes

THE VOLCANIC FLAMES
that lept across the sky as lightning
have danced across the hills to other valleys
leaving only ozone to mark where they have been

AND I AM SPARED AND WHOLE
Unwounded and unscarred
Undamaged by their passing
Unscathed in places that should bleed
And safe in who I plan to be
At last the God of Hope
Has noticed me
And offered me
His hand to take
And walk into
Tomorrow.
          ljm
Sometimes there is a little bit of gold at the end of a stormy rainbow.
603 · Sep 2017
RESURRECTION
Princess Diana came back last week
She wore all her pretty clothes
And looked stunning in her hats
She went about her ways as best she could
But there was no hiding all the sorrow in her eyes.

The luckiest girl in all the world
Chosen to one day be the Queen
And then demoted to a brood mare
By a Prince who was secretly a ****,

Her fairy tale had not even got it’s start
When she found out how it would end,
And she was trapped by tea towels
With her face imprinted on them.

She delivered all that was required of her
And even though the song was ended
Managed to write a second verse
Which the conductor wasn’t keen to play.

Yet the music gave her legs to stand on
And the tune grew to a symphony
As she performed it for the World
Who found the melody delicious
And her solos so profound.

Lady Di is back again,
That simple girl who saved herself
To become the lamb for royal slaughter
By a horde of calculating courtesans
Who knew she didn’t matter from the start.

Left to slumber peacefully,
On her private island
Lo these twenty years,
Safe from flashing cameras
And the machinations of the Crown
Diana may be dead but her legend is alive.
ljm
One last Diana poem and then I'll stop.
598 · Mar 2017
PAYDAY II
The mouse in the maze is very weary.
It’s way too much concerted effort
Just to earn a grain of corn.
The route is always changing
And someone turns off and on the lights.
The music plays the same song, over
The humming of the ventilators
And the shutter bangs incessantly.

The mouse is tired of stupid games.
No one cares which way it runs,
Or how much corn drops into the bowl.
The smell of *** in the far back corner
Makes the air unpleasant to inhale.
The will to win another piece of corn
Battles with the need to find
The exit that is at the other end.

Notes have to be written down
Measurements and timings
Fill the logbooks of the staff,
As bored and weary as the mouse.
Protocols must still be followed
Finally the time clock in the hall
Clicks over to the magic hour
And mouse and men can all go home.
            ljm
My work ia very interesting - until it isn't.
596 · May 2018
MEMORIAL DAY NOW
To all the men in all the wars who died for causes they believed in
Or found themselves unable to escape the roll of dice that sent      
them there.
A country posey picked in a shady lane by hands of love and care.

To those three thousand souls who fell crushed by towering hatred,
And those who fell at other bomber’s hands on other days,
A long stemmed perfect snow white rose from the garden of regret.

To all the children taken in their innocence on ordinary days,
In ordinary places, thought safe from all the madness of insanity,
A wreath of multicolor blossoms tied with cotton candy bows.

To all the revelers out for fun who sought the music in a crowd,
And learned the rhythm of an automatic gun instead,
A vase of yellow daisies, with a petal for each one

To all the tots who suffered at the hands of those supposed to love  them,
And lived with wounds and deprivation until there was no hope of life,
A potted red geranium that will go on blooming endlessly.

To all the lonely elderly who slipped away without a sound or note,
And went into the ground with no sad songs or mourners,
A small bouquet of lilies tied with velvet ribbons.

To all of those who couldn’t live the number of their ordained days,
Felled by accident, disease, or lost in limbos of mental illness,
A planting of daffodils to bloom each Spring.

So many lives, so many flowers.  So many to grieve and mourn for.
Just one day is not enough, nor is a week or year.
The best memorial is memory, and it can last forever.
      ljm
It's not just about the military any more..
593 · Jun 2022
INTERVALS
Time
A crooked line
Connecting then and now
Never quite achieving the connection
That would build a bridge
To somewhere over there
And make a path
To what could be a better sometime.
           ljm
Time moves quickly or sometimes slow. No matter how it comes, it always goes.
590 · Apr 2021
WHEN
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
Off the top of my head.
586 · Jan 2017
INSIDE OUT
Inside out
Collar frayed
Ragged at the hem
Stitches showing through the thin spots
The cloak of civiliztion needs a laundering.

Buttons missing
Flapping in the wind
Dragging in the rainy mud
Sliding off stooped shoulders
The coat of civility needs a skillful tailor.

Hands disappearing
Sleeves way too long
Holes in all the pockets
Faded plaid in last years colors
The jacket of humanity is now on sale at Goodwill.
584 · Sep 2017
WHEELS
EVIL rides in SUVs with the windows all blacked out.

HONOR                drives a plug in car that leaves no resdue behind.

APATHY rides in secondhand Nissans with the clear coat
                                flaking off.

CELEBRATION rides in limos with open tops for standing up in.

TRAGEDY            rides in a long black hearse with all the horses
                                under the hood.

BRAVERY drives a bright red Moped that cuts in and out of
                                traffic.

POVERTY must ride the bus in a much too long commute.

ARROGANCE drives an escalade that’s the fourth left turn on a
                                yellow.

BOREDOM drives a station wagon missing the left rear
                                hubcap.

PANIC        races in the family car where panting and blowing
                              isn't helping.

HAPPINESS       drives almost anything with a baby in the back
                              seat.
                    

MACHO ­       drives a Ford F350 with wheels even bigger than
                               his ego.

MELTING *** preens in a souped-up Chevy that dances like a
                                hip-hop star.    

PRETEEN       rides a bicycle and dreams of a Mustang.

YOUTH      hauls *** in a Jeep Wrangler with the rag top
                             down.

MIDLIFE CRISIS  rides a Harley in a group of seven on weekends.

OLD AGE    drives slowly in an ’83 Chrysler Imperial that
                           won't fit in the parking spaces.

LOVE   floats along on hopes and dreams and has no
                          need of wheels.

ljm
A white SUV.
Why won't this site put up the write in the format I posted.  I press Save and the structure is totally rearranged.  Makes me crazy.
583 · Oct 2017
HOME AGAIN
The mileage added up to just a grand
Not a lot for 20 days,
No crossing of a dateline
Or a continent’s divide.

But still that world seemed somewhat foreign
and I saw streams of amazing things,
That were echoes of my teenage self,
As different now as I was then.

A hazy forest, dark and damp
Where the mist turned into fairy snow
And we walked on in muddy shoes
To learn the mysteries of falling water.

A midas treasure of wave-borne findings
Spilling from a cavernous hall
Pieces of so many lives found
Floating on the morning tide.

Stories of a Nippon sailor’s life
From things that got thrown overboard
Images of fishing boats
In round glass ***** and floats of cork.

Carve the circle with a line
That led to a reunion of
The ones that I grew up beside
But never quite was welcomed in.

A rounding up of recollections
Shared at tables set for eight
Where those left out still don’t fit in
And bonhomie was the music played.

To the ocean of my childhood days
Waves that tell me who I am
And fill up all the empty spaces
City life drained out of me.

A shining tower with ninety steps
That wound around like pizza slices
And tripped me up to ******* blood
As balsa airplanes spiraled to the ground.

No time for wounding on the schedule
Shedding blood but never tears
The leader of the band played on
Admiring a Tsunami boat

Come all the way from far Japan
With cargo of the local fish
Still swimming in the unspilled sea.
A miracle born from true disaster.

Another beach, not like my own
A warmer, calmer span of sand
With jutting rocks in shallow surf
That dare you out to climb them.

Drawn once more to city lights
And the grassy ***** where mother lies
There were other gardens to enjoy and
And contrivances with just two wheels.

How quickly we grew shuttered in-
Just two days in big city life,
The restaurants and funny shows
Still told us it was time to go.

Longing for the beauty of the Gorge
We were met by smoke and blackened stumps
And exits blocked to waterfalls, ravaged
By the fires of hell, and ugly now for 50 years.

A teenage boy with fireworks and no sense
Destroyed the loveliest drive on earth
And bragged to all his awestruck friends
That all the news stories were about him.

With fingers crossed at Mount Rainier,
The sunny weather turned to slush and
Fell two inches in an hour.  I ate fresh snow
Off branches as we hiked, and froze my tongue.

We wore the heavy coats we almost didn’t bring
And cheered when sunshine took the snow away
And we could walk in forests once again
On trails we never knew were there.

A wonderland of cast off parts and metal bits
Became giraffes, seahorses and other marvels
In the hands of a roadside welding artist
Who sold a giant piece to my home town.

A visit with a sister who shared my youth but not my soul
Who grew one way and I another
Leaving not a thing in common for us
Except the love that comes from blood.

No way to avoid the final city
Hellish place of one way streets
Endless detours and construction
Pay all you own to park two hours.

Yet there was the comedy and
Segways once again to ride.
A troll under a hulking bridge and
Poor Rapunzel in the tower.

Passing up the tourist musts,
Visited in journeys past, we saw
The small and quirky things
That make a foreign city yours.

Twenty days, almost no rain
Unheard of in that rainy clime
A lot of sun, some cloudy skies
A bit of snow to frost the cake.

Twenty days to drive a circle
On the map of who I am
And where I came from
To bring it all back here with me.

To this place so vastly different
I wonder how I found a way
To fit inside this giant tumbler
And plant a seed that actually grew

A would-artist long ago
I wonder how I mixed the paint
To make a life so changed, in colors
Blended from Seattle’s soils.

Painted on a Portland canvas
With a brush of Longview bristles
Wetted with Pacific water
To present my image to the world.
                       ljm
Should anyone be curious about our route, here it is:  Fly to Seattle, pick up car, Ferry to Kingston on Olympic Peninsula, drive to Hurricane Ridge and Sol Duk.  To Forks (No interewst in Twilight locations) to Beachcomber museum, and Hoh Rainforest.  Aberdeen (skipped Curt Cobin park) and Longview.  Class reunion.  To Long Beach  (the only REAL beach on the west coast), To astoria to climb the tower (and fall).  Maritime museum and that tsunami boat.  Seaside, Canon and Red beach.  Tillamook and the cheese factory.  Portland.  Mom's grave.  The poor mutilated Columbia Gorge, to Umatilla.  Then through Yakima and Ruchland to Mt. Rainer Nat. Park.
To Puyallup (properly pronounced pew-al'-up) to see sister and on to Seattle for the last 3 days, then home.
*** - I've just done a boring vacation letter.  Be glad you aren't on my Christmas newsletter list !!
582 · Dec 2
WORD STEW
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
Have you ever thought there could be something in your past you should remember but you just can't and maybe it's on purpose.
581 · Oct 2019
REPLY
The mind is an endless foreign land
A place to find escape
When life becomes a heavy hand
And living is a jape.
ljm
From out of the blue.
576 · May 2021
WAX
WAX
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
About someone you might know.
568 · Apr 2018
SUDDEN DEATH
She said she didn’t feel good.
They said what else is new.
She said this time it’s different.
They said we’ve heard that too.

She said I think I’m dying
They said give us a break.
She said I’m even crying
They said those tears are fake.

She said I think you’ll miss me.
They said you haven’t gone.
She said it’s getting darker.
They said don’t carry on.

She closed her eyes in silence.
They said come on let’s go.
Her form grew cold and rigid
At last they had to know.

She wasn’t just pretending.
The thing she fought was real.
Her story had no ending.
And her life book they could seal.

They said we’ve been so stupid.
Uncaring and unkind.
She tried and tried to show us
But we were just too blind.

And now she’s gone forever.
Who’s going to run this place.
They don’t know which they’ll miss more-
Her efforts or her face.
ljm
Sometimes the wolf really is at the door.
565 · Feb 2017
IN PURSUIT OF LOVE
A collaboration of
Lori Jones McCaffery & David Hewitt

Clouds of grey, forboding loom
Over hillsides cold and sere
I long for walks twixt summer bloom
Under skies turned blue and clear

Lightning cracks as thoughts return
I cannot leave them far behind
Scorched upon my mind you burn
With no escape that I can find

'Tis love I crave not solitude
But love is often hiding
I search beneath my smbre mood
To seek for one glad tiding

And grant the heart my life pursues
Should find in me a perfect mate
So cleanse me of my woeful blues
That I may earn a happy fate

Yet time musts ee me ride this storm
But I'm without my trusty steed
So here I bunker down till dawn
When I can better meet my need

Fissures of red stirs morning sky
Promising me a path to hope
Upon the clouds my wishes fly
For help to climb this rocky *****.
#
David wrote lines 1 and 3.  Lori wrote lines 2 & 4.  All done by messaging.
562 · Jan 2019
SECRET WISH
My most secret wish is to somehow become
A Bandaid for all the wounds of the world
And an Aspirin for it’s pain.
ljm
If only.   Happy New Year
562 · Mar 2022
INSOMNOLENCE
I’m so tired I could drop
But I mustn’t go to sleep.
Vicious dreams are hiding
Just behind my pillowcase,
Waiting for the perfect time
To tell me I’m inadequate
And guilty of egregious sins
That doom my frantic efforts
To create a perfect life
And move across humanity
In ways that make things better.
ljm
My dreams are my worst enemy.
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