there once was a man in a bunker
who said, “I need to hunker”
he turned round and round
like an old basset hound
afraid of Americas thunder…O’Prunty
Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges
there once was a man in a bunker
who said, “I need to hunker”
he turned round and round
like an old basset hound
afraid of Americas thunder…O’Prunty
Enrapt, her burgeoned soul arose,
born in diamond’s white draped hues,
birthed of summer’s countenance rent,
shadows hidden, whispered clues.
Love’s long fire adrift in ash,
cooling, mending, flames of heart,
bathing amber locks of hair,
free in hope of what may start…
… and what may come anew.
I started going to the track with my grandfather when I was a little kid and two of my most prized possessions are winner circle photos with my Papa in 1957 and 1958. It would be a huge understatement to say that those were rare occasions – not me and him at the track, that was a regular occurrence; Papa picking a winner was not.
When I was in the sixth grade, fifty one years ago, I took dance lessons as part of the right of passage into becoming an awkward teenager. Thirteen is a big time age for Jewish kids. It’s Bar and Bat Mitzvah time and that means lots of parties with dancing, so my mom sent me off to Carlos & Kay to learn how to trip the light fantastic. I am happy to say that I am glad she did. I can still do the same “jitterbug” steps I learned way back then and that are now being recycled as “swing dancing.” I know this because I have taken some swing dancing lessons with a friend and it was nothing more than a refresher course for me.
I have been trying to be a good husband and do all the things that my wife asks me to do. However, I must admit, I sometimes fall short. To quote Bill Murray as Carl Spackler, assistant greens keeper, in Caddyshack, sometimes “I (am) unavoidably detained.” By sports on television, playing with dog, potchka-ing around in the kitchen, writing limericks….