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

I'm much better at being sad.
I've had a lot more practice.
                       ljm

Synonyms for AFFLUENT include
Prosperous, which indicates
more coming-in than going-out.
It also includes Opulent, which
implies lush plenty at hand.
Also synonymous is Substantial
which suggests great amounts.
There’s even Rich, which can allude
to many different kinds of things.

Webster says these synonyms
of affluent always refer to
money on it’s many forms.  I disagree
They can also refer to vocabulary
The only treasure everyone can own.
You may not have a dime to spare
but you can write a verse that sings
and rhymes that make us cry
Just by using words that turn out
to be more valuable than gold.
ljm

Can I share your Christmas
Mine’s been ****** away
Too busy closing out my job
To have much time to play

No Christmas tree, no mistletoe
No wreath on my front door
No strings of lights across the roof
No “spirit” any more

I promise not to hog your joy
And I will not intrude
I only want to steal a taste
Of all your special day includes

A whiff of loving happiness
And reverence for the season
I want to feel some holiday
And that’s my only reason

So if you’ll let me have a bite
Of what your Christmas means
I’ll be forever in your debt
For sharing happy scenes.

ljm

In trepidation pain and angst
With three hitch-hikers on my back
All making progress difficult
And pushing writing off the track

With orders firmly in my mind
I pick up pen and go to work
I scribble letters on a page
Exactly like some office clerk.

I’ve monumental things to say
But they must only be in rhyme
That’s not my style....so i’ll just say
It will not happen at this time

So I will be the lesson dunce
Atop a stool in pointed cap
Because I couldn’t rhyme this once
And only turned in total crap
ljm

No more tears allowed.
There is a Palace at the end of this road,
Which turned out to be long and stony,
Pieces washed out by floods of tears
And avalanches of regrets,
Highwaymen around each corner.

No more sobbing in the night.
The castle walls are within sight
And the drawbridge is slowly coming down.
There is a light in the tower window
And the smell of dinner in the air.
Only one last mile to conquer
And at last I will be safely home.
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

Zinging the zen-zone I was in
A zany request zig-zagged my way.
Princess Zinnia from the Zuider-Zee
Required a zippy line or two
To paint the zeitgeist of our times.

With the strength of a Zamboni-
With the power of a Zeus-
And an uncommon zeal I set out
To zap the doubt that slowed me.

With the flair of a Florenz Ziegfeld
And his zoftig choir of beauties,
I morphed into a zealot
Gamboling in the zephyrs
That wafted in from Zurich and Zaire,
Not to mention Zanzibar.

I felt like a Zacharias
When my zealous work went bust.
The writing turned into a zonk-
The accolades were zilch.
I felt like I’d been zippered up
Like a zebra in a zoo.

I lost my zest for going on
And slopped around in old Zoris,
Listening to zydeco’s beat
And feeling like a zit.

But then the Zodiac-
My zinging-singing sign
Came to my rescue
And I was marching off to Zion.

I was one wowie-zowie-zucchini
As I zipped across the pages
And zoomed from one idea
To an even zippier one.

So here, Sunprincess, is your verse
I’ve used up every letter zee
And gone from very bad to worse
But of this challenge, I am free.
                         ljm

Tear stained pages
Tear stained pillows
The legacy of my love for you.
                    ljm

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.
                   <<>>

Barmaid in a black bikini
Push up bra and all
Eight hours in an endless shift
Supplying visual accommodation
To fantasies best left unspoken
By the yabbos leering at the bar.

One half a pill at shift’s beginning
The other at hour four
Keeps the chatter ever charming
And the hopelessness at bay
As the clock sits paralyzed
And it’s always nine fifteen.
ljm

Seething anger has burned down the barn
Where iniquity wove its amber curtains
On vintage looms of deceit and falsehood
Skylarks can’t nest there anymore
And the creek is poorer for it

The harvester is grounded and
The scythe lies in the ashes and the brambles.

The Almanac forecasted heavy rain
But the wind instead blew from the East
And was impossible to batten down
Now things once wet are very dry and cracking

There’s naught to load and take to market
Where tears won’t buy the milk and butter
And there’s no one left to bake the bread

Hurry up those stumbling feet
Wishing won’t create a cow
And you don’t own a pasture
Or a salt lick anyway

The only thing that you have left
Is an igneous tomorrow and incendiary dreams
                      ..  ljm ..

Be my courage
I’ll be your strength

Be my solace
I’ll be your haven

Be my inspiration
I’ll be your fruition

Be my love
I’ll be your forever.
ljm

Curled up on a too-small sofa
       Misery oozes from every pore
The fan, a giant spider on the ceiling
       Dimly seen in the pre-dawn darkness
Less dark than the shadows in my soul.

Another day of nothing happy
        Loiters just behind the sunrise
Daring me to find a way
        To build a life from broken rubble
ljm

I knocked on numerous doors before
But never was let inside
Until I found you.
Now I discover pathways open
That were invisible to me before,
And thank you.

I turned away from so many things
That couldn’t be understood
Before I knew you.
Now suddenly a pattern forms
And life begins to make sense when
Shared with you.

I gave my memories away
To people who couldn’t use them
Previous to you.
Now each episode becomes a part
Of the growing treasure that is my
Life with you.

I was hungry and cold and sad and tired
Before you saved me.
Now I’m filled with warmth and joy and strength -
All the gifts you gave me.
Ls

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

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

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

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

I am someone you can count on.
If I say I will, I do.
If I say I can, it’s true.
I labor on when the rest are gone.

You can trust me with your secrets.
I’ve no need to tell the world.
My gossip flag is always furled.
So you will never have regrets.

I’m the one who’ll stand beside you
As you wade through thick and thin.
I’ll be like your next of kin
And I will always see you through.
ljm

The years are liars and they don't keep their word:
They promised me maturity,
But all I got was soft places where I should be firm.
They swore me wisdom,
But all I found was a different kind of foolishness.
They said I'd have new insights
But all I saw was how I miss the flowers of youth.

The years are untrue and make vows they don't intend to keep
They promised me contentment,
But all I received was a slower paced restlessness.
They told me I'd find fulfillment,
But all I've discovered is a bigger yearning.
They assured me these years would be golden,
But I can see through the veneer to the green beneath.

And I curse the days and weeks and years
For they lied to me and then ran away.
                                         vvv

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

From my 20’s through my 40’s I was the very definition of svelte. Willow thin but shapely, smartly dressed at all times in what would be the next new trend coming down the fashion pipeline. I mingled with people who dabbled in fame and some of it rubbed off on me. In those days I moved in exciting circles. It was painful to watch the years take it away, one increment at a time.  The waistline expanded, new styles appeared ugly, and star studded lovers moved on. I did what I could to hold onto the shine, but I found other mountains to climb.  I conquered new vistas and gathered some trophies, while minutes and years slipped away. So subtly I didn’t pay much attention, I became an old lady who hates having to dress for her age. And refuses.

I still have the photos that prove I was lovely, but no one is asking to see them. I still have the outfits that no longer fit me; they hang in the closet to taunt me.
I’ve learned to make peace with the milieu I live in.  I’m still the svelte damsel inside. I dress in bright colors and billowing fabrics and leave the self judgement behind.
ljm

I sat by my morning table grieving
And feeling sorry for myself
When I glanced out the kitchen window
And spied a strikingly beautiful bird
Slowly pacing among all the pebbles
That cover the surface of my back yard.

His  head was iridescent purple and blue
Flashing in the wintertime sun.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry -
Just taking himself a casual stroll.
Looking around as if on vacation
And seeing the sights in a wonderful place.

I had no idea where he might have came from
Or if there was a name for his breed.
I only knew I found him a pleasure
Who turned a sad and depressing hour
Into something healing and warm
That I will remember for more than a day.
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

I saw a giant flock of Wrens
Fling themselves across the dawning sky
Like a scattering of onyx jewels,

Flowing like the tide at ebb,
This way and that, swirling
In fantastic breezes I couldn’t feel.

As suddenly as they came, they left,
Headed for some magic place  
That only birds know how to find.

The sky seems empty now they’re gone
Even though a brilliant sunrise
Lurks behind the distant mountains

And promises a light show of it’s own.
The birds became an Obbligato
To this morning sunrise Etude
And I am enriched for sharing it.
ljm

From the depths of despair
Where God is unknown
And only danger surrounds me
I feebly fight against the call
That draws me ever on to destruction.
Only the call of a Whippoorwill can save me.
ljm

A ******* bird watches over the days
As grain by grain the mountain slides away
He perches on a jutting rock
And sees the river’s level drop
While wind that should be felt elsewhere
Ruffles feathers just like hair

He knows that time will have to end
He has no further strength to lend
It seemed like there would be more time
And everything would turn out fine
If he could just maintain his post
And oversee the rocky coast

But watching will not be enough
Though he be made of sturdy stuff
It’s up to mankind to step in
If there is any chance to win.
Some brave soul must take the helm
To save the future of this realm.
             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

More than my joy in the bright summer flowers,
More than the lure of the sea;
Not less than the sum of eternity's hours
The happiness you bring to me.
                            ljm

Happy New Year
One and all.
Bet you didn’t know -
Today is my Birthday.  
Yep - I am a New Years Baby.
Happy Birthday to me.
I sing it to myself
Because everybody else
Is too hung over to
Carry a tune.

So…. we will start
A brand new year
Together at HP.
But I feel like
I got nobbled -
I have to start it
A whole year older than
I was on New Year’s Eve,
And you all get to stay
the same age  
As you were last night.
****** bigtime.
       ljm

She sent three thousand mother’s daughters
Up the Church aisle to be married
But the Wedding Director’s only daughter
Slinked off to Vegas and was married by Elvis.
ljm

BLACKBERRIES

When the woods were green
And the air was clear
And the sky was mottled
With fluffy clouds,

When the river was high
And the water was clean
And fish hid in the shadow
Of submerged rocks,

When the cars were small
And the traffic slow
And wild blackberries
Grew by the roadside,

You were my love
And I was yours
And everything
Was shining bright

The scenes have changed
And so have we, but
love has never faltered
And every day still shines as bright
As when we picked blackberries.
         ljm

Blah  Blah  Blah  Blah
I write the crap
That no one wants to read
Not even those who share my blood.
Depressing was the kindest word
They offered on my tripe.
So who the Hell did I  think I was -
Some highfalutin' poet dame?
No, just a hack at choosing words
That paint a dreary picture
Of a scene nobody wants to see.

Blah Blah  Blah  Blah
Aren't I sorry for little me.
Get off your *** and haul the load
That what's left of your life will be.
                         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

As sere as the Nevada
Moraine surrounding me
My pen drips dust and sometimes sand-
And mud if wetted with my tears
Of longing and frustration.

The winds of war are howling
As the universe turns inside out
with all the wrongness being done.
Mother Nature has picked up her skirts
and flounced away in fury
That is costing endless lives
And devastation planet wide…
While my pen seeks its navel.

My wit, became a brilliant crayon
In realities now scorching sun,
Leaving Rally in a melted pool
Instead of banners on the wall.
It turned my fingers crimson.

Where the splint or plaster cast
To support the flagging wordage
As it dribbles from my pen and
Seeps away into insouciance
While the darkest corner of my mind
Cries out for help and world salvation.
My pen’s, become a giant sieve, stained
By what’s poured in and through,
With only dampness left behind,
The stuff that mud is made from.
       ljm

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

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

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

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

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

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

I went to the squantum faire.
A handsome lad was there.
He admired my raven hair
And seemed to really care
So I began to share
More than I’d ever dare

He seemed like someone rare
My excitement hard to bear
We made a fulsome pair
Alas he was just a snare.

Today I sit and glare
And sometimes even swear
That I’d been made a mare
And Motley’s clothes must wear.
ljm

I sat down to write the Great American Poem
And ended up with just a bromide.
I looked in the mirror and saw another bromide.
I was so upset I had to take a bromide to calm down.
ljm

Waiting while the white ball spins
Hurry - I’ve got other stuff to do.
So many corrections yet to make.
Why didn’t I type more carefully
Rushing through some new ideas
Throwing words out like confetti
Only to be scattered by the wind
That never seems to take a break.

Watching while the ball still spins
Pounding mental fists on walls
That make the labor twice as hard
As Bragi promised it would be.
Breaking up what’s newly writ
And stomping on the pieces
That turn sharp and cut my metric feet
Which then bleed through my stockings.

The ball will never end its spins.
The buffering goes on and on.
I might as well go dig a grave
And bury all the honeyed words
And clever phrases I created,
Fighting iMac all the way.
Their use-by date was yesterday
And there’s no hope to salvage them.
The buffering has done me in.
ljm

Pity the Easter Bunny
Vice President of Whimsey Land
Hero of Farmer’s gardens
Mentored by Santa Clause

Guardian of the fairies
That trade coins for teeth
And Proctor for the hoards of elves
That keep the world exciting.

Still owning all his lucky feet
Through cleverness and speed.
Nephew to Uncle Whitey
The Star of Underland

Pity the Easter Bunny
His ears are drooping down
His cotton tail has lost its fluff
And he’s too sad to hop.

Pass the pity towel around
To mop up all the tears.
His labor will go unrewarded
On a scale that’s not been seen before.

All those eggs to boil and dye
Chocolate selves to pose for
All those candy eggs to hide
Baskets to be woven.

All those chores have been checked off
All the preparations made
Everything is set to go
When a germ calls off the holIday

What do you do with Jelly Beans
Stacked up to the ceiling
How much sugar can a bunny eat
Before he’s diabetic.

Pity the Easter bunny
But stand six feet away
We all feel cheated for
The loss of Easter day.
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

I heard your trees both screaming
          As your cack-handed garden workers
    Fired up their vicious, howling saws
                  To start a massacre that no tree could survive.

      I saw the shards of leaves and wood
  Flying off in all directions
               As the lifeblood of the trees
                               Oozed into the gravel just below

                 And before long it grew very silent -
   Only whispered echoes of the screams
           Floated high above the barren wasteland
That is now a yard with nothing in it green.
                    ljm

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

Am I the only one on HP
Who is finding it impossible
To parse the Byzantine new
System Eliot-the-Great has
Foisted on us in the name
Of becoming available
In your back Jeans pocket
Wherever you may be?
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