A sign

A sign

 

I reside in this in-between

With you on the other side

Our deal not to be shared

With anyone living

 

I wait with patience to

Know that you are there

Somehow still connected

To me and us

 

Take only a moment

My last request as

You have joined the others

While I must open this door

 

 

TobeTT  # 18

Yarn hoarder’s confession

Yarn hoarder’s confession

 

Street vendor by trade

Crocheting hats with a

Madame Defarge intensity

Seven years I sold them

 

Now laden with too much

Yarn purchased on sale

I appear a hoarder unwilling

To part with smart purchases

 

Hats of my own design

Unable to follow formal

Instructions lost on me

I had made up my own

 

Now Granny squares

Has become my therapy

The same square in

Infinite colors now hundreds

 

As yet not unified the

Squares are mounting up

In bags hidden from view

Until one day

 

Perhaps to circumnavigate

This failing planet to

Cozy it up with comfort

That only Granny can offer

 

TobeTT  # 17

haiku

haiku

 

my aching behind

causing a big distraction

a poet’s nightmare

 

 

TobeTT  # 16

Sober Friend

Sober Friend

 

Grieving without wine

I became the sober friend

Without intention I hear

The ice in their glasses

When I answer the phone

 

It is almost all of them

And I am surprised

Belonging to this club

For years knowing

The phone was a trigger

 

Thinking I am missing

I try to imbibe only

To find my glass half

Full in the morning

Virtually untouched

 

I will not go back

As it is a slippery slope

I am only too familiar

Confusing drink with

Sadness I stay clear

 

TobeTT  # 15

Mixed Up

Mixed Up

 

Yellow ran away from home

Causing great distress for

Blue and red while

Green and orange wept

 

Of little consequence to

Black and brown they

Offered support to bring the

Thoughtless youngster back

 

Purple obviously concerned

About blue and red

Showed his true colors

And went to the movies

 

People let this be a lesson

It’s not who you are that

Matters in this world

But who you are mixed up with

 

TobeTT  # 14

Working Hands

Working Hands

 

You can tell a man’s worth

Not by the change in his pocket

But by the skin on his hands

And the lines in his face

 

Men who can save for the future

Hire hard-handed men

To do their labor as they

Move numbers across a desk

 

Men with leathery worn fingers

Broad and hard at the edges

From digging and pounding have

Hands immune to the world

 

These hands of working men

Work for money to

Buy the blue sailboat

Pay the lumberyard debt

 

For a man’s worth must be

Gathered and displayed

Shown off to each other

To be acknowledged

 

TobeTT  # 13

After

After

 

I became cleaner after he died

Allowing forever paint chips

To loosen and be swept

Human smells creeping out

Through windows, doors ajar

Leaving constellations of dust

Autonomous universes

Home to beings who do no harm

Recycling even bad thoughts

Into tulips

 

TobeTT  #12

Boom Done

Boom Done

 

Dropping dead is not that easy

It’s all in the timing

Circumstances being just so

You can’t be sitting and drop dead

Lingering on the floor doesn’t count

It’s all in the landing

Arriving to the ground dead

I’ve seen it done and trust me

It’s not for the faint of heart

 

TobeTT  #11

Silents Nights

Silent Nights

 

Spring has aged into summer

New greens fading now solstice hues

Dark holes between layers of leaves

Remain and stare back

Evening sun lightens the mood

As the inevitable is coming

With each visit the sun wanes

Creatures shift their watch while

Sounds soften as birds are mute

Once filling the air

Now crickets seem silent

Bats have gone with fireflies

Remember back to summer evenings

When life relayed itself with audible surety

Listen to what has been lost.

 

TobeTT  # 10

Saving Boots

Saving Boots

 

They’re still in the barn

His dozens of worn boots

Waffle stompers they’re called

Look it up

 

When in Alaska

I discovered old boots

Would become planters

Boots still working

 

While saving his boots

He was feeling

Both honored and

Thinking me crazy

 

This one style boot family

Size 10 Field & Stream

Allowed for that broken toe

On his left foot

 

Having earned their keep

I will haul them to the yard

Spray inside and out

With the garden hose

 

Planting each with flowers

I’m tempted to lay them

At random graves in the cemetery

Where he had dug for fifty years

 

TobeTT  # 9