"cookouts" poems
For you it is red, white and blue; firecrackers,
cookouts and American beer. How easy it
must be to assume that by saying “God Bless
Our Troops” you are patriotic. I have an
entirely different view of the 4th of July.
Every boom is an IED, every pop a ******
round. If your God was present when my
brain was shattered he did not show up to
see me through my recovery. You presume
that every soldier is a Christian like you.
I was an American soldier. I’ve bled and
killed in service for this country. I left behind
pieces of myself in faraway lands. It was my
choice. Do not use me to support your moral
propaganda. I am a veteran. I am not your
political stage-prop.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
They threw boulders at glass house and roasted marshmallows AT the cookouts. MEDIUM RARE.
The troglodets, they put on a.show, sang four part harmony in the round in open air.
Fred Flinstone dropped in for a cameo and Barney held the door.
the show went over pretty well.
To three or four encores or more
I dont know who sent in the clowns
But slapstick ruled the day.
The animal act was
Kind of wack
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
Water ebbs and flows like the gentle breeze
Tourists lounge in chairs, watching with practiced ease
Bright blue skies dotted with clouds roll by
*** in hand, I sit and let out a contented sigh
Flashing back to the times of years long past
When wiffleball, sleepovers, and cookouts trended; not the latest reality cast
When movies, delivered pizza , and cake felt like the perfect day
And no one obsessed over what social media had to say
Let’s bring back the joy of those pure summer days
With nothing to do but let them pass in a daze
A fog over my mind, past worries but a whisper
Looking forward to good memories with my brother and sister
Whether school-age or not, what a great time of year
Visits await with friends and relatives; vacation is drawing near
Take a moment just to savor it and let that feeling stay
For life will roll in like the tide and try to take it all away.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination.
From stories that I keep re-writing in my head.
From all the things that happened a lifetime ago to the hopes and dreams of tomorrow.
From the falling leafs in Autumn to the blossoming flowers in the Spring.
From the smells of fresh cut grass, gasoline, and pine-sol.
From countless hours with my nose in a book.
From ‘Maureen Elizabeth I swear’ to ‘one more chance’ and getting ten.
I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination.
From the endless supply of golf ***** in the basement to the mountains of unopened Pepsi.
From the non working clock on the porch to the woods with our forts.
From ‘only one’ and taking five.
From ‘don’t get that on your clothes it’ll stain’ and ‘stop biting your nails,’ a habit I’m still trying to break.
I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From tickle wars that always end with my hiding or crying because I’m the most ticklish person you’ll ever meet.
From older siblings saying ‘there’s someone in the house’ to scare me to ‘Fight me!’ as a joke
From the holes in the walls from sibling or cousins fighting.
From endless hours that my siblings and I would spend cleaning and being mad at Mom.
From secret discussions to sneaking around and being caught.
From our “spy agency,” to ‘Mom and Josh are coming run!’
I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From the yellow van always parked in the lot
From the yelling of children outside.
From the cookouts at friends houses.
From fights to forgiveness.
I am from the ever expanding library of my imagination
From the inside of my head
From my grandfather’s house
From the books I read.
From countless hours spent with siblings
From the ruined friendships of my past to the ones that’ll last a lifetime.
I am from the ever expanding library.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
“She’s dead.”
Just like that:
two words cause an eruption;
A dam break.
She was alive,
and laughing,
and smiling,
and doing her job
(and doing whatever it is —
important or not —
that a person does
when they’re living
and you’re not thinking about them.)
*
“There was a gun,”*
they said.
*
“Her boyfriend is dead too,”*
they said.
“It was a parking dispute,”
they said.
And no amount of explanation
could take the air that escaped her lungs
and put it back
to restart that beautiful,
big,
loving heart inside her.
And then you think,
Man, if I had picked up the phone.
Man, if I had made more effort.
Man, if I had been a better friend.
But you know you can’t change the past,
and even three hours ago
when you were folding clothes,
and she was sitting in that house
is the past.
And now she’s gone and you don’t know why.
“Everything happens for a reason,”
they say.
But they don’t tell you what the reason is.
And sometimes, you never figure it out.
Then comes the candles, and the funeral.
And an eighteen year old ray of sunshine
is being put in the ground.
And you’re here.
Living,
and breathing,
and folding clothes.
And you wonder why her
and not you.
You’re surely not deserving enough
to live
while she can’t.
And her family;
All you can think about is her mother,
and her father.
And you remember watching TV,
and riding the boat on the lake,
and the cookouts,
and even that time she was sleeping
and snoring a little.
You can still hear her voice.
And remember that week before Christmas
when you saw her,
and she was really busy making coffee?
But she sad hi to you and mom anyway.
Nothing is the same anymore.
The world just isn’t the place it used to be.
Things like that just don’t happen where you live.
Maybe in Los Angeles,
or Florida.
But certainly not in Maine.
Not to someone you went to high school with.
And certainly not her.
No, not her.
But it happened.
A 74 year old man
shot and killed your friend.
Stole her life, and her light.
And the worst part is that the world
keeps on turning
even thought it feels like it stopped.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
It greets your nose with mixture of smoke, perfume and stale beer.
On the counter , an empty pickle jar , a few dollars in there.
Always a need for that jar , times get rough,
it's a way we help friends and pray it never is us.
Band is setting up and sound checks going right,
few folks already here, going to be a good night.
Folks come in here to take a load off for awhile,
some come to sip, others to get plum wild.
Barmaid looking good with that pushup bra,
boy got lucky and married her last fall.
Six days a week this bar rocks and rolls
and true to the good Lord on Sunday we closed.
A few new boys and gals here to night,
pitching pick up lines, one might be right.
Someone will get lucky and cross that line,
someone will be in luck, get drunk but leave the car for the night.
This old bar is a meet and greet place,
information gets passed and memories erased.
Cookouts in the back for a charity or two.
Bike wash, car wash, a flash of skin might happen too.
All in all, this place fits us all,
I'm glad to say that I am a part of this old bar.
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 11:52 AM UTC
Oh, spring how your dear to me
and as pretty as can be
with the buzzing bees
and the flowers oh so pretty
When Spring comes I can't wait
for playing outside until late
with cookouts on plates
Oh spring how I love you!!!
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
My mind is playing tricks on me, my dear
I almost feel as though I'm home again
Passion Pit playing in the background and
Of Monsters and Men playing in my head
Cards on the floor slipping through the only cold floorboards
We're all shirtless again
It's one hundred thousand and ten degrees outside
the walls haven't quite crumbled down
over the cabins that we love
the clouds can't penetrate these green hills, much less roll over them
only we can roll on these hills in our hot sleeping bags
and almost fall into the green lily pond and the sky's green
but I'm not scared anymore
Because I've jumped off the high dive and
introduced myself to older girls
What else could there be to love other than the smell of cookouts
bad singing, and BO?
I painted my face for the first time to give a blanket
to a girl who'd never have a better night.
I got my eyebrows plucked in the same room and night
She plucked my guilt out like the hairband she was trying to undo,
her fingers said, "you're forgiven,"
my eyes said, "thank you,"
as I leapt through the fields to hug my friend because she was crying
even though I was naked
I braided so much hair during that time-
Held more hands than you'd wanna
Jesse McCartney didn't even know what a beautiful soul was-
My summer was set to the playlist of
the only twenty year old in the room who is trying to guide our ships
as we sail through the changing ocean tides
and summer is the easiest to handle of the seasons of my life-
There, I built my own wheel, learned how to take it myself,
and then I gave it to Jesus
and he's piloting fine.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
waking on a summer morn
has always
made me somewhat sad
at least
since I've been grown
foreboding
in the mind
and weighty remnants
of bizarre dreams
coffeemaker
fills my morning
cup
clears my head a bit
but as the day
matures
humidity settles in
the air feels thick and heavy
seems a struggle
for lungs to take it in
you can see
the heat
waving
in ripples
as it rises
in that smoldering heat
some are in their
element
yes
it's true
some do like it hot
not me
I don't enjoy
"sunbaking"
brutal heat is not
my friend
nor is the sun
at least not for long
so close
I know its rays
are more
than pale skin
will stand
and what about
the flora
unless the heavens
bless the earth
with frequent soaking
rain
the heat will be
a strain on
the plants
I dearly love
if I remember
to water thoroughly
when they need
they'll stay green
and lush
but
my wallet's green
will shrink
still
summer has its
good points
and
amusing things to do
ice cream cones
evening drives
picnics at the park
swimming pools
water parks
and just the garden hose
can help
to cool you off
backyard cookouts
fireworks
iced tea and
lemonade
vacation if you
can afford
if not
stay-cation's
the latest thing
maybe best part
of summer
though
is what
is
coming next
those cool
clear
days of autumn
to refresh
the air
renewing
mind
and body
too
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
When I look in the mirror gazing at my reflection
I will always think of you Dad.
I will remember all the people whose hearts you touched and your departure that made us sad.
You were my Dad first, my bestman, my bestfriend
and my first example of a family man.
There were so many things that shouldve crossed your mind
but your families well being was your plan.
I have so many fond memories and thoughts including you
that came rushing through my head,
such memories would break a weaker man
but your strength helps me to look ahead.
I will miss our talks and laughs and I know the cookouts will not be the same,
but I will carry on the tradition in honor of carrying on your name.
So when that dreadful day will come however long it be,
your hard work ethics, family devotion and love for helping others my family will see in me.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
The grass is greener on my side,
this time
and it's freshly mowed,
releasing its scent into the noses
of the kids running up and down the streets,
screaming their praises to the god of summer,
and begging for just a little bit more time.
Steam rising from the burning pavement,
the smell of cookouts
the warm air
springing life to the city around me.
Riding in my car with all the windows down
screaming along to Say Anything
and feeling alive with the glory of love.
All of this creeping up on me
surprising me with its inviting grin,
everything is funny now
because all of this
always leads me
straight back
to you.
I dig my toes into the cold dark dirt
thinking to myself these words
that could never encompass
the taste of the atmosphere around me,
finally wrapping itself in a flannel blanket.
I feel like a broken record
scratching at the same chorus,
trying adjectives to describe the way
today smells like better times,
but I'm determined
and I'll keep trying
to make these times even better.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 8:27 PM UTC
Ask Americans why they prefer kosher Hebrew National Frankfurters for July 4th cookouts
they will reply:
they are extra clean,
possibly even a little blessed
by the rabbin-ate,
and everybody knows
the jews got all the luck,
so don’t forget the mustard and
the pickled relish,
which rhymes with
you know what:
(embellish, shellfish (?), psychedelic).
kosher hot dogs,
love that jewish treat,
a digestive hellish,
proof positive that hot dogs
make America great
again and again,
in brown, yellow, and green.
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
Everything I see and everything I do
Just everything it all reminds me of you
It has never been this hard
The cookouts in the Yard
I will always have the memories
Especially the one on the fourth of July and beautiful summer breeze
I fell in love with you over and over again
And then there was that day remember when
That time at the mall the picture of you and the grinch
That beautiful smile my cheeks you use to pinch
I don't think you will forget any of the times that we had
None of them were ever bad
I sit here and hope it's just a bad dream
And things are not as bad as they seem
That time we were making love and through the skylight we saw the fireworks
Just a few things that I will never forget
We are not still together will still be my only regret
I could go on and on
But now I just can't believe you are gone
Baby your smile that lit a million rooms
Will live on in my dreams
All that is left the sound of my screams
The memories of us will always here
In my head and in my heart
Because I will always care
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC