Hour 4: Dear Sorrow

Dear Sorrow,

I haven't seen you in a while—it's been a good six years since you visited. 
I still think about you, our close times together—but less and less. 
There are some times months when you never come to mind.
In fact, i do believe I'm beginning to forget you more than not, 
but they'll always be a bit of you that I carry around on my shoulders, up my sleeve, in my pocket.
We spent so much time together—just the two of us that you are in my blood. 
I tried to break with you many times but you were always so dedicated to me, so loyal, so noble.
How are you? I hope you have made new friends, I'm sure you have moved on. 
You were always able to meet new people easily, it's in your nature, you devil you.
I must be honest, I don't miss you at all. Actually, I am happier with you not around. 
Even though we were so close, there was always a bit of self-righteousness that you carried with you 
which made me a bit uncomfortable, I must confess. But, I wish you the best wherever you are these days. 
Sometimes I think I see you but it's just that personality of yours that is so recognizable in people. 
Take care of yourself, mate. We'll always have those late night candles and poetry we shared. 


Hour 3: Black and Blue

Black and blue

these are for you

the tried and true

will never do


black gets blacker

blue gets bluer

I stand where you were

but never been truer


a thousand shades of color

we still look for another

we want to call brother

we live on our only mother

Hour 2: The “Easy 5” Recipe for Friendship


1. Ears

2. Empathy

3. Encouragement

4. Education

5. Entertainment

For a delicious friendship start with an oversized helping of ears. Be sure the ears are cleaned thoroughly—no wax build up—no deafness or distracted ears. Just healthy listening ears will do for this lasting friendship dish.

Add a large handful of empathy. Together with the ears this makes for a solid base for your friendship.

Next use only the highest quality encouragement. Don’t skimp on generic encouragement, spend a bit more for organic encouragement. Your friendship is worth it.

Next, sprinkle in your spices. First, education. Be sure that it is blended into the friendship well. You don’t want to add any boring or trite spices to your friendship—only educational spices. Learning and curiosity spices all in the education family of flavor.

Finally, a healthy pinch or two of entertainment. I prefer the humor spice—keep it fresh, not dried.

Your recipe for a vibrant friendship will be enjoyed for many years to come as long as you follow these five Ease.

As always, enjoy.

Hour One: Famous Woman

My favorite famous woman has been Maria Montessori for over three decades now. Her fame arises from her research into infants, and how they could blossom given simple freedom to choose. She understood if children are allowed—given respect—to play, or work—at their own pace on whatever material, toy or tool, they choose with free will; then concentration will form, attention to detail will be sparked; confidence blossom, and the unique self of the human being is born. Dr. Montessori developed environments for young children, ages 2-6, to draw from. She developed and provided materials that the children would be drawn to; beautiful, durable manipulations that the child would play with, work with, experiment with. Each child develops at their own pace—in their own time—so the environment or classroom was designed to be a self-directed learning environment—depending on each child’s sensitive period. They may pour water, testing weight and capacity, they may draw, trace, paste, cut with pencil paint and scissors. They may build with blocks, they may sit quietly and watch—observe the other children—wait for just the right time to choose to begin. Maria Montessori discovered the human soul that is innate in every child born—she not only discovered it, she found the soil, the water, the nutrients to enable the psyche to grow, to flourish.

My Second Poetry Half Marathon

Hi Poetry Marathoners,

I am looking forward to this Saturday, June 27th. I plan to write 12 poems from 9am to 9pm. I did this a few years ago and was pleased with the results. The hours go by so fast. I feel like I may have an advantage this year because I have been an avid writer of haiku lately, and they do come to me rather rapidly, although a good haiku is one of the hardest types of poems to write well. The American Sentence comes even faster, and is not nearly as hard to nail a decent one. I will be looking to write longer prose pieces using haiku and AS as backups. Lots of tea and cold brew coffee, and healthy snacks.

Good luck everyone!

John S Green


Hour Twelve: Constraints

Ah, the magnificence of time for the lifting of constraints.

Indeed, years accelerate as shadows grow longer—baring intentions.

Veils disappear replaced with honest, experiential wisdom.

Corralled no more within clocks and customs,

stilted thoughts are crushed with action deeds.

Quilted awkwardness lays bare to colored vibrancy.

Certainly, nervous nieces and nephews roll their eyes

when forthrightness overcomes restraints tethered too long.

Yes, lucky souls are the ones who come to understand

the triteness of viscous pedagogy,

and are able to break through to creativeness—

forward thought, sassy speech, and the act of doing.


Hour Eleven: Farmers Market Sounds

The buzz of the local farmers market resonates closer with every step,

music and singing tickle my ears.

Young girls on ukuleles, a string-band stomping in ballad,

street performers juggling—delighting the young families slurping up ice cream,

toasted cinnamon almonds, and Bavarian pretzels.

Fresh scents of basil, dill, cilantro, lavender float around the square…

and tomatoes, melons, potatoes, zucchini, squash, cucumbers abound.

I stand still, eyes closed, letting a fiddle take me away.



Hour Ten: Colors

the teacher asks
a direct question—
her face

the sun-bleached clam shell
inspected by a gull—
low tide

the nightlight
is burned out

listening to
Billie Holiday again—
candle drips

he tells us
about his auctioned house—
rubbing my eyes

Hour Nine: Little Ben

Between our porch railing lives little Ben.

His web bridges two rod-iron spokes bringing in gnats and flees.

Little Ben is a patient hunter—so tiny but so spry.

Each night, as I sit in my porch chair sipping a sunset beverage,

watching the lava glow over the horizon, little Ben is spotted

gliding over the orange flow—with ease—no fear at all.

My little Ben, crawling over the crimson ball—

a radiant silhouette.


Hour Eight: Burrito

This is a “Golden Shovel”. My line is the first from Robert Louis Stevenson’s My Shadow,”I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me.”

it was just the other day when I

walked into town with a craving to have

a big burly burrito, yes a

super charged El grande. Not a little

one. One so big its shadow

would need a doggie bag. Yes, that

enormous. And what goes

inside? Well, a lot of guacamole right in

the center. And

what to top it with? The most out-

landish pico de gallo with

jalapenos and that’s it for little old me.