A Wasted Day

A wasted day, what can I say,
to be productive was not my way.
A rest, a stop, a nap, a talk,
a glance at the clock, but no where to walk.

A wasted day, what can I say,
with no energy, no not even to play.
A drift to the kitchen for a cup of tea
and a glance out the window to see.

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Only the Lucky Few

The repetition begins at an early age,
with competition to make the grades.
It’s early to rise, to knot the ties,
sip your coffee and monetize.

Melting

The rind of brie is so bitter,
the tang of sharp cheddar I like better.
Oh there is blue and gorgonzola,
but gouda is best to console you.

A Little Piece of Me

I want and need my quiet time to think and write and be.
A tiny place in the world where I alone am enough and have time wonder, rest and see.
With a few moments to breathe and take care of myself because I am more fragile than I seem.

The Unchosen Companions

Fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers,
the unchosen companions not available to others.
Love and laughter, disappointment and tears,
still driving you nuts after all these years.

Changes

The changes to places, I don’t really mind.

But the changes to faces, oh I really do mind.

Lost are the theater, the restaurant and the park,

but not those who’ve touched my heart.

 

Faces change with lines and crinkles,

everyone faces the inevitable wrinkle.

But the soul of youth remains,

no matter how many things change.

Travel Patina

Photo by S.K. Reiter

Opened senses and a shaken balance.
Strange toilets and a tested palate.
A touched soul and a blistered toe.
All whims allowed and a nap condoned.

My Brother’s Pride

I travel to my brothers party,
ready to laugh loud and hearty.
His daughter today has made the grade,
and now it’s time to throw her parade.
He brings her friend since second grade,
to grow the fun that they have made.

The Lost Brother

Step-by-step and one-by-one,
he was always a very methodical son.
As a boy so very sweet, funny and kind,
a better brother, I doubt, you’ll rarely find.

He left the state to make his fate,
to a school in New York, he took their bait.
A teacher of children, a lover of life,
he works out everyday, but doesn’t have a wife.

Nothing in common and very little to say,
he’s on his journey and we are in his way.
He doesn’t write, email or call,
he’s doing his thing and it’s not at the mall.

A Writer’s Pen

A wilting dream and a damning thought,
my soul is broken and black is the pot.
With a crush that occurs one day at a time,
my life isn’t my own because I’m earning a dime.

Why do I work at a job I can’t stand,
because my possessions own me and my wallet demands.
A disingenuous smile and a polite hello,
I’m faking this dance to make some dough.

No Breath

He has no breath and he takes it slow,
it frustrates him because he so wants to go.
He’s always played hard and was a ladies man,
his charms are not gone, someday he’ll understand.

He packs his air and works to breathe,
So young of heart he still wants to speed.
For one “born ready” this is a bitter pill,
these golden years suck and are going to take some skill.

Obligation Moon

Photo by S.K. Reiter

Another sleepless night for me,
why won’t my mind set me free?
Awfulized and analyzed,
chewed over and magnified.

A fear of failure or a desire to win,
what drives my brain to these sins?
I turn things over and over in my head,
when sleep is really what I need in my bed.

Dad

For father’s day I will tell a tale,
of the man who tries hard without fail.
He has an artist flare and a linguist tongue,
he cures the back and is a proprietor for fun.

His father left when he was ten,
a father’s love that never began.
That father dropped by once, out of the blue,
no one knows why and why we never knew.