interlude

autumn’s red robin
standing guard in our back yard
protects last apple

transition takes time

“so when is moving day?”
some people want to know
for us, it isn’t just one day
we like to move in slow!

a year ago we purchased house
(now it’s been even longer)
as we remodel step by step
the feel of home grows stronger

first, old windows must replace
peel popcorn from the ceiling
plain doors and cupboards to remove
each mess we make needs dealing

a crew comes in to texture,
ceilings and walls they paint
we’re trying to retire…
do all ourselves? we caint!

design a stone face fireplace
and nail barn wood on wall
saw, stain and poly (bases covered)
new cabinets installed

meanwhile, back at farmhouse
i’m organizing stuff that
we’ve accumulated over years
past time to say, “enough!”

to pack in box, give, throw away
can be hard to decide
when love is moving memories
old treasures offer ride

each time i drive to new house,
i bring a little more
basement done, put books on shelves
down there full boxes store

plank floor, appliances are in
it’s time to move the rest
sons and wives take many loads
you know, they’re just the best!

it’s taking time to organize
(waiting on dining set)
he builds a shed, re-does garage
no, we’re not finished yet!

yo is a saint, bro!

in latin formality, the roman

catholic church names saints:

Augustine, Teresa, Peter, Francis,

but we protest(ants) read our

Bible as saying we’re all saints

(all who believe, anyway) yeah,

you…you…you, and me, too!

thattsa holy whole lotta sainthood

sooo y’all (all of us livin’ in da ‘hood,

that is), let’s live…gotta live alive!

live in the light of the knowledge

that we, yes, WE (you and me)

reflect the very Glory of God which

we see in dear face of Jesus Christ!!

and remember now, it’s HIS glory

(not our own) so live humble-like

‘cuz we’re just jars of clay holdin’

the most precious treasure, the

Holy Spirit…jars fired in his kiln

and offerin’ his light to dark world,

go on now, bro, let the light SHINE!!

___________________________

Inspiration from sermon by Pastor Tim Ouwinga (entitled “Called to Be Saints: Humility) and 2 Corinthians 4: 6 & 7and my bro, Dale.

heron’s haunts

crickets ‘n crawdads sing off-key
in surreal dream left condemned
on river surrounded by marshland
of carolina’s backwaters…look away
like empty windows that stare coldly
as lonely boat cradles dead body in
hull…cut memory loose, let it drift
through mind’s dark tunnel beyond
plaster and bricks’ clayed dilapidation


Written in response to d’verse ekphrastic prompt featuring art by Lee Madgwick. The previous evening, I’d watched the film, “Where Crawdads Sing,”based on book by same title.

smellybean…then eat!

“Love, but be careful what you love,” (Augustine)

if you ever have an extra jellybean

whatever flavor is fine to my bellybean


juicy burst of sweetness tastes swellybean


but one’s not enough, we can tellybean


let’s go down to the local delibean


and buy biggest sack they sellybean

brilliance

morning sun breaks through

rain clouds radiate glory

God smiles with favor

photo by lynn

c’mon, man!

Mr. Biden, see southern border?
we do believe in law and order
you must protect Americans all
and finish work of building wall

immigrants need line and gate
but now pour in without restraint
since you’ve extended invitation
drugs/sex traffickers invade nation

and what about Afghanistan?
your evacuation had no plan
abandoned friends to awful fate
left weapons there (terrorist bait)

Afghan women’s rights now gone
children’s school studies done
cut short dreams of future bright
Al-Qaeda’s back, ready to fight

all you know is how to spend
another billion, when does it end?
we taxpayers must pay the bill
for national debt we cannot fill

a president without a clue
stumbles over word and shoe
I do not like to make a fuss
but two more years may ruin us!

strange encounter

once upon a misty moon
i think it was the month of june
a sight enough to make one swoon
i met a leprechaun

his knickers and his jacket green
shamrocks gave his hat a sheen
his beady eyes stared at me keen
then he began to laugh

“aye’ve never met a girl before
but shouldn’t ya wear a pinafore
to cover clothes fer doin’ chores?”
i looked down at myself

i saw the mud caked on my dress
and realized hair was all a mess
but how it happened couldn’t confess
then i awoke from dream

luminousity

orange pumpkin moon

black cloud eye-mask conceals face

trick-or-treat bandit

rises above dark tree shapes

farmyard glows with light surreal

photo by lynn

tattoo lady

she’s mystery, an enigma
embodies fox or cougar
pretty in her day, now age
obviously wears wrinkles

bleach blonde, made-up
tattoo on forearm of her
butterfly babies flown,
ladybug kids now grown

husband dead and gone,
she’s borne a lonely grief
so empathizes with much-
younger divorced prodigal

encounter after club hours
exchange glances, numbers
packs her sequined t-shirts
touring country in his truck

little shoes

Reminders of precious little boys

following Daddy’s footsteps

tracking through the house

leaving loveprints all over my heart.

rendezvous

Joining in the fun at dVerse Poets where Lillian invites us to include flavors of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in a poem…that’s NOT about ice cream 😉

Ever cool, Britannia shmoozes,
“hey, Sugar Plum, how about we go out
for some Miz Jelena’s sweet potato pie?”

“That dastardly mash for a late night snack?!”
She pauses, “but I could go for a cuppa coffee.”

“Coffee? Buzz, buzz, buzz”, he teases; (head
will feel like an urban jumble, he thinks). “Well,
change is brewing, take my arm and let’s go.”

Looking at the time, she mutters,
“Can’t believe you talk me into this
half-baked scheme at such an hour.
This is nuts!”

He pats her hand, winks and grins,
“Maybe we’ll order urban bourbon instead.
Goodbye, yellow brick road and hello Miz Jelena’s!”

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