A cat is mischief incarnate
from claws to whiskered nose.
He spreads his form indiscriminately
whenever and wherever he goes.
19% in his tail;
the sweeping fluff of doom.
23% in the wailing cries
that wake you in nighttime gloom.
8% in the claws and teeth
which teach the unwise to take care.
31% in the legs; carrying him
from disasters- he caused- everywhere.
19% in the eyes that direct
these ongoing rebuffs of fate:
surveying all that smacks of horror
in the humans who are always too late.
Knocking things off surfaces, shredding toilette paper, sleeping on clean clothes, racing the hallways at night and the yowling. They are the best and worst roommates; without even considering the litter boxes.
Just hours since I learned of the great fall
my childhood enemy has taken.
My heart is shaken in internal squall.
Yet still, there is joy which I partake in
Why feel guilt at such a time, so long sought?
When others still roam the alleys of night;
our nightmare meetings still frequent and fraught.
The terror still real in the broad daylight.
I have been, largely, where she has now stood.
I have ground teeth on the obloquy.
I can’t rejoice now, though I wish I could
**** this infernal anisotropy!
And yet anger smolders at the pylons;
burning bridges and lashing at icons.
A few still remain but I never believed even this much justice could be had. I've learned late of this but it is still hard to decide how I feel about it. I certainly never expected to feel anything but contempt for this person but I can't help but to remember much of what they probably experienced. It's almost like reliving it and impossible to enjoy without unease.
I heard a bird sing today
And stopped still along my way;
My churning thoughts forgotten
In the haunts of yesterday.
Merely for a moment then
I was that younger soul;
Worries gone and wonder found
Atop a snow-capped knoll.
But in another instant
Just the breeze was at my ears.
As I sank into the present
And lost again those stolen years.
Yet, my heart was lighter.
Those problems not so dire.
I just heard a little bird today
While slogging through the mire.
A great walk to a long day.
Recall the warmth of love untold.
Once found in manure and rags at night
Outcast of men-yet gifted gold-
Now celebrated in smiles and lights
Recall the sweetness with each sip
The sweetness of his face,
As immortality faded away
To become the greatest gift of grace
Let peppermint sticks bring to mind
The innocence and blood
From birth to death he carried
Now, forevermore, his legacy of love
And on this night remember
the childhood wonder once known
When chocolate, presents and stories
with Christmas came into your home
But the marshmallows are for family
Who cushion life’s many blows
May your Christmas be sweet and merry
As your love for Christ and family grows
I don't really like this one so much but I wrote it for my dad and mom to go with gifts to his parishioners, their neighbors and my mom's workmates. I tried to create something within their sphere of beliefs and leave my own convictions out of it. The accompanying gift was hot chocolate packets, gingerbread mangers to sit on the rim of the cup, mini-candy canes and marshmallows. I confess, the gift was also my idea. Conceived primarily because it seems I spend more time baking cookies for the many gift boxes they give out every year than doing anything else. This way, I spent about three hours in the kitchen and, with a little help boxing, was free of baking for the rest of my short Christmas. It was a much more merry Christmas for it.
We’ll light the wedding candle
Each year upon this night.
Remembering why as years speed by
We first stood to make this light.
Not for a love that’s ever true
Or a smile that ever cheers.
Not for the sick or crummy days
Or to share and conquer fears.
It’s for the days we forget to love
and when aggravations start to weigh.
It’s for the times we’ve both ******* up
But have chosen to love again a new way.
The candle will burn and the wax melt.
Someday, the wick will sputter and gutter out.
But it’s just a reminder and can be replaced
As long as we remember what it’s all about.
It seems I'm writing more often for events or gifts than anything else lately. I wrote this to go with a wedding gift for a friend. She seemed alright with it so I'm calling it okay, for now.
Hope often dies in
lonely vanity when not
paired with wise action.
My value is up in the air again.
“Be confident,” they say.
“Do your best!”
But what is my best?
When all my contributions are turned back,
when my best is thrown away,
I need to reassess.
Perhaps the value I've given
is not valuable.
When I am trapped in a single
when they smile
and turn away,
am I now worthless?
I may decide I am worth
a kings ransom
and my thoughts and actions
his right hand
but I cannot be confident in
unless there is one
willing to buy.
On sticks and stones
and going home alone.