Starchild

I fly through the heavens
Make a pit stop in the Milky Way
And have a picnic.
I munch on crunchy star bites
And then take a drink of clear sunlight.
I launch myself on a moonbeam and hover around
The moon and wave to the man who resides there
I scoop up some cheese from a crater
To nibble along the way
Skim on over to slide along
The rings of Saturn.
I sit on one of the circular rings
Rest my feet on an asteroid.
I contemplate the earth I left behind
I smile, as I rocket away.

 

Exodus (poem 19)

We put to paper
what things once were writ in bone
carry maps of home

underneath our skins
nothing can remain hidden
nothing’s lost for good

children concealed in
baskets hidden among reeds
may one day part seas

The Unsung Hero

This one is for those adventurers that no one sees or notices,

To the support cast,

who above all else work not for their benefit, but that of others.

We may not get the credit,

we may not get the recognition,

but at the end of the day, every Frodo needs his Samwise.

Every hero needs a hero of their own.

 

Playing the ukulele

Playing the ukulele

 

for the first time leaves

you with fingers numb

as a child’s blue

ones after playing

in the blizzard, as

Mom’s after scraping

ice from the windshield,

as bones grown raw.

Hour 19

My Star

Floating between stars

Watching galaxies pass by

I keep watching

Trying to find that one star

The one that always shines for me

The star that has gotten me through

The rough nights

The long nights

And the nights that were perfect

I am looking for my star

VCS

Wouda
VCS

Do you know the Wouda’s?
They live most any place
They can be both good or evil
A pleasure or a disgrace
Under the sea they creep like starfish
On land they hide
A secretive race

Do you know the Wouda?
You may have mistaken them for
Someone’s hand or a toy
But I assure you they are alive and well
They adapt to any situation
With alacrity and joy

Do you know the Wouda?
Not the Coulda, Shoulda or even Buddha?
But in fact the Wouda
Who creeps up in disguise
It is the helping hand you need
When all else seems lost

It isn’t a pixie, a gnome or a dwarf
It is the noble Wouda
And if you don’t know about them
I think its time you shoulda
because they’re the helpers we all need
The very special Wouda

Miniature Monsters

Summer evening rain beats down on the hot pavement
Frantic frogs protest loudly
Leaping in and out of the rising steam
A sinister game of hide and seek
Dodging shrieking children, sporting muddy adventure raincoats
Eyes filled with wonder, excitement and glee
Mason jars with shiny lids, ready for the conquest
Unsolved mystery of captive creatures

Tea of Sarcasm(18th hour)

“Gather yourselves, ladies, prim and proper” Mrs. Havensham said, “with your powdered pearls protruding from your bosoms like so”

She continued, “Be certain to display your ivory white gloves, upon your intricate lil hands. For you see, Tea is high society and high socialites you shall be”

A voice rang out from the back, “How high?”

Mrs. Havensham was not pleased but continued on, “If a concerto is brought up in conversation be sure to mention how much you adore Mozart’s violins and or Bach’s organs”

“Like his insides”

“Don’t be ridiculous, not the internal kind, don’t be so crass. They wouldn’t like that. No woman should ever be so brass. High tea is serious business” She said with much composure “And you shall pursue it with illustrious gracefulness”

Pressing on, Mrs. Havensham sighed heavily and addressed the rest, “As you lift your cups and saucers to your lips, extend your pinkies out like this”

“Oh so we can pretend and put on the ritz”, the voice rang out teasingly

Red in the face, Mrs. Havensham approached the voice, “I would be remiss to say that your constant interruptions like today are liable to get you dismissed. And your etiquette lessons will wash away with your dreams of being a good wife. No man will ever want a woman who jokes about during tea time or sits around drinking wine and smoking cigarettes from time to time. Now sit up straight, legs crossed and keep quiet at all times.”

The woman raises her hand to Mrs. Havensham, “One last interruption, if I may. I believe a correction to your lessons needs to be made.”

“Such as what, exactly?”

“Such as, I do not wish to be put on Patriarchal display. Cluttered and tattered upon those shelves of double standards. Although, I speak my mind-I am quite polite to those who are deserving. It is my choosing if I want to wear white gloves and pearls and discuss the many overtures in Mozart’s Figaro. And I most certainly do not smoke cigarettes. Why, I bide my time by drinking wines of all kinds but what really gets my spirits going is a fine robust cigar with some bourbon or rye”

Hour Eighteen Dinner Date (Prompt Table for Two)

18 2017 dinner date (prompt table for two)

Dinner Date
by Paul Robert Sanford

At a table for two
we sat and smiled
as couples do on a date
early in a relationship.

That night marked the demarcation between my life before and since.

She flashed her radiant smile,
her delicate perfect features
framed with angelic curls.
A crystal on a chain around her neck,
her peasant blouse showing off her good shoulders.

From that night came a new career, parenthood, stability, and sadness.

I was in a brilliant, happy phase,
full of vitality and creativity
fairly wise and not too arrogant.
Still with hair framing my rugged features,
contact lenses letting my soft eyes show.

The biological clock was ticking for both of us, and this was my callback audition
for sperm donor, parent, life mate.

I never believed this spectacular creature
could really want humongous bumbling me,
and I drove her crazy with my insecurity,
but eventually she convinced me she loved me.
I adored her so much I was afraid to show it,
hiding behind a bit of gruffness from time to time.

That night was the beginning of two wonderful children, ten eventful years together,
the golden time that divided my long youth from my elderly disabled days.

I don’t remember anything that happened that night
at that table for two,
just an indelible picture of two people falling in love
joining their lives
blessed by the soft lights of a nice restaurant
on a momentous dinner date.

Choices

The Earth is light

The Earth is dark

It’s not just the day

Nor just the night

 

In our hearts

And in our souls

Light we make

Or darkness unfolds

 

It’s what we say

And what we do

That spreads the light

Or darkness do

 

The choice is ours to share the light

Or plunge the world into the night