Recipe for Early Morning Pep

Recipe for Early Morning Pep

  1. Go outside and smell a whiff of mint kissed by this morning’s dew.
  2. Then drink a cup of freshly- brewed coffee like granddad used to do.
  3. Take a brisk shower alternating 30 seconds of cold and warm water.
  4. As they leave for school, hug and kiss your sons and your daughters.
  5. Go to work with a purpose each day, or else why would one bother!

9:19 CDST

 

In Memoriam—Mother

Today I will celebrate a woman who is certainly like no other.

A public-school teacher, business community college instructor,

Blue Bird leader, quintessential 1950’s mom—my late mother.

Although since I would not want to ever wish to equivocate—

About all else, obsessively-compulsively-she was never late!

Ever a lady in the truest sense of a rather old-fashioned word,

She was the perfect partner for my dad with her style and verve.

Also, trained as a classical pianist, she was sure to entertain us,

but insincerity was certainly not in this small-town girl’s nature.

Thus, if I ever tried, I could never measure up to her example,

For above all else, her love and care remained ever ample.

 

Note:  I did not see the assigned prompt when I first posted, but here is a short poem honoring a very memorable woman, my mother. 8:47 CDST

 

 

 

Wacky Waco

 

There once was a Texas town named Waco.

With an inferiority complex muy bueno.

But HGTV started airing Fix’er Upper,

And the town found many a fan and lover,

So Seattle snow birds will discover.

 

As a native Wacoan, who returned 20 years ago from the Intermountain West, I thought I would celebrate my hometown.

Poetic Prompt: Location 8:16 a.m. CDST

Technically Obsolete

More than–give or take–15-odd-years ago
I researched patents for Silicon Valley egos.
Nanotechnogy, biotech, the Singularity too,
I edited lots of copy and even proofed reviews.
But that was long ago, some light years away,
Now, I must call tech support Online to stay.
While teaching, Blackboard often mystifies me.
Furthermore, my mistakes belie my history.

Willpower

If I had but one, albeit unnatural, irresistible, awesome desire,
It would be to keep unquenched this overwhelming, holy fire.
Yet for want of sound sleep almost eleven hours forsaken
–Not to mention scrambled eggs and a rasher of frying bacon,
Buttered toast, strawberry jam, some berries,one juicy melon–
I would not think of chilling, for writing poems is awfully thrilling.
So using both rhyme and rhythm, my spirit stays quite willing
To pen my slightly didactical, moreover pretty intractable, song
Eschewing those conjunctions and prepositions overused,
All the same, I must enthuse, I’ve found neither patron nor muse.

Outings

Companion,
Bedmate, faithful friend
Ever mindful of his dinner.
Walkies need taking
and unmentionables scooped
While ever straining upon a leash.

Unhinged

Nature’s unbinding
festers decomposition–
fresh, bloat, ruin, decay–
Autolysis—enzymes
do gorge tissue cells away
–vile putrefaction.
Rotting flesh, vulture’s
meat, nature now decomposing:
metamorphous, change.

Sing a Song

Sing a song of genuine gladness
Cast away all gloom and sadness
And with all your heart’s delight
Sing away your longest night.

Sing a song of grief and sorrow
Fretting upon uncertain morrow.
To make the darkness bright,
Sing away your longest night.

Sing a song of forgotten memory.
Recalling a childhood only dimly.
So things will after all be alright,
Sing away your longest night.

When death now draws so near,
Join in a chorus of faith to cheer
And now focusing on the Light,
Sing away your longest night.

A Lonely Game

Solitaire, it’s a game played in isolation.
Alone in one’s room or else on vacation.
Matching hearts, aces, diamonds, spades
Single file, up and down, the cards parade.
So what else do you do by-yourself alone
With no Twitter or Facebook to now intrude,
No one to call on an omnipotent i-phone?
Just now, those thoughts are only your own.
Recalling tripling troubles and rising doubts,
Neurosis and psychosis will sure find you out.
Unless you put an over active mind at ease,
After all, there’s truly no one else to please.

 

Color Wheel

Hot red lust, anger,
the will to power excites
with most intensity.

But orange energizes,
a heat a bit less intense,
health and vitality.

While happy yellow
brings forth childhood memories
of sunlit meadows.

Lawns of green grass now
evoke those endless meadows
hikers frequent each spring.

A masculine blue
recalls a very trustworthy hue
varying shades of sea and sky.

Violet, unlike
Its flowery namesake, oozes
chic sophistication.

A soft-spoken brown
reminds souls of rugged toil
life sprung from the earth.

Black’s all-embracing void
a most painful grief observed
oft gravely despairs.

But virginal white
ever shouts chasteness and purity
of faithful innocence.