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Terry Jordan Mar 2016
You demand that we stop waving our arms about
While talking or whenever I do the 3-legged downward dog
That reminds you of being abused in another life
I know you recognize the delivery man as the abuser
Who you bark at fiercely, relentlessly
Just as you always growl jealously at Hazel, our neighbor's dog,
Despite her best efforts to be your friend
I see the wolf in your eyes when you're stalking lizards
Running, unleashed, leaping impressively from a standstill
Unsupervised in what substitutes poorly for wilder places
In our Florida backyard
You stare accusingly whenever I talk on the phone
Demanding to be heard, too
You hear and smell things I cannot imagine
Long before they reach my ordinary ears and nose
I see you cannot stop digging that hole
Next to the patio in my wild grasses garden
You eat the finest organic dog food
But prefer something dead on the path
During your afternoon jog to the beach
With Bill, so dismayed, that you enjoy smelly rolling
Though you endure your punishment, a scrubbing in the shower
Just to cuddle with Bill on the couch all clean and loved
I command you to COME HERE when doing yardwork
Ignoring me, you trot off towards Federal Highway
Or slip through the hedge when I’m weeding-you're a wily one
Hoping for wolf adventures like the ones in your dreams
Those that turn scary, maybe you get pounced on
When you're making terrifying yelping sounds
And trembling uncontrollably
Waking us all up, leaping up on the bed
Scooching to a safe haven between us
Beseeching, "Hold me, squeeze me, say it's OK for me to be here!"
Hugging you Bill says, "It's OK, there there, he's a good doggie."
Buddy found Bill, after being abandoned to the street, but never stopped showing his fears & phobias that apparently reflect his life before he was rescued.
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
If I could only carry a tune
I'd write songs to go on tour
Sentimental ones-oh how I’d croon
Just so you would love me more
My Dear, just so you would love me more
If I could just win the Lottery
There’s your Instant Retirement!
Oh, what fun to hire that limousine
That’s only my first requirement
For when I win all those riches then
I’d hire us that limousine
To take us to Cruise America
Pick up our brand-new Airstream
We would drive North to Tallahassee
Pick up supplies along the way
Stop at Sam Ash for your dream guitar
Then could you love me more, I pray?
Just so you would love me more
I’d shower you with presents galore
“Can’t buy me love”, you say, my Dear
You sang that song I’ve come to adore
So say those words I long to hear
As we drive West to see The Rockies
The majesty makes your face glow
What matters to me on this journey?
That you love me more and say so
Inspired by my muse, a guitarist, who likes me to practice with him, occasionally, & I'm not able to carry a tune at all!  I can sing 'Sixteen Tons', by Tennessee Ernie Ford, however.
Terry Jordan Mar 2016
I heard that David Kavanagh
(So say reliable sources)
Has vacated Hello Poetry
To follow other courses…

He stopped for awhile to graze here
On Hello Poetry
Riding off on Irish horses
Pausing just to speak to trees
Many are sad to see Dave go-I'll miss his poetry & comments.
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
I Need a Titanium hip
My old one is losing its grip
That bone spur brings pain
Whenever it rains
I limp just like Chester and slip

Reserve my Titanium hip!
Sign me up don’t give me no lip
I’m sick of the pain
Driving me insane
Til treated with 4 or 5 nips

I’ve got my Titanium hip!
No longer afraid that I’ll slip
My Doctor-so serious!
But I’m quite delirious!
And green tea is all that I sip...
I recommend getting hips replaced-I'm the BIONIC WOMAN now
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
Long Night Full Moon


You only watch the news to find out
where the fires are burning, which way
the wind is blowing, and whether
it will rain. Forecast ahead but first:
A mother’s boy laid out
in the street for hours.
These facts don’t wash away.
This was the Daily on Poets.org, honoring Black History Month
Terry Jordan Feb 2016
Like an alien in a spotlight
With her magnifying glasses on
My mother as she worked, up all night
Did invisible weaving till dawn

I would watch her when I couldn’t sleep
Honing in on that hole in the suit
Intently, her concentration deep
Weaving tiny threads enlarged like jute

In other-worldly light she labored
I was afraid she’d lose her eyesight
Watching her focus never wavered
Her face all aglow in the lamplight

Invisible weaving, I inquired
How tediously she plied her craft
Worked for the money that she required
Made the warp and weft of fabric last

Reconstruction, undetectable
No more burn, or tear, or fabric blight
Weaving magic so incredible
Its wound now perfect by morning’s light

She taught me much that I'm still making
From her life that now I'm grieving
Sewing, crocheting and great baking
But never invisible weaving

The picture of her life that mattered
I now see how she toiled so finely
And that the wrinkles in the fabric
Of my own life splayed out so blindly

The vision of my eyes bedazzled
Incandescent, her face in the beam
Unaware how her mind unraveled
As depression stole her ev'ry dream

The threads of DNA defining
Who I’ve become I'm now believing
My mother’s hand in that designing
Of my own Invisible Weaving
I was working on this for a while, when I read the Pulitzer Prize winning poem, by C.K. Williams, entitled Invisible Mending.  Same subject, but his metaphor was of forgiveness & redemption, while mine is a little fuzzy, about my connection to my mother...and NOT the winner of a Pulitzer Prize.
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