24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Frodo knows his fateful quest
He wonders if he can pass the test
The task is great he grew to know
The evil in the world did grow
Each day the darkest covered more
Frodo wished he did not know the score
The ring he knew sought to leave his hand
Its master he knew sent his command
Frodo left with friends in tow
To complete his quest, he had to go
He knew the darkest seeking his ring
The wraiths were moving seeking his bling
Science falls flat they say
in face of imagination doing its jig
stupidity or madness writ in head
questions the established scene
Imagine if earth were flat
and not round as we are taught
It could be so, because we do not tilt over
anywhare we walked
Why this curvature so obscure
What if flatness is the truth unseen
or let’s say it is a funnel
we then are in a whirlpoool of dreams
and the only place it all ends
is in its sucking hole
of lost whims
Oh, for a jug and my Robin beside.
Astride his horse, together we’d ride
Along the dray road to the village of Quay
And we’d sing jolly-lolly-o-lay, o-lay,
We’d sing jolly-lolly-o-lay.
He left me to rot in this castle so grey
With the nuns and the friars and his battle dray,
Keepin’ his sword for the next fightin’ day,
Why sing jolly-lolly-o-lay, o-lay?
Can’t sing jolly-lolly-o-lay.
Our Little John came to see me this morn,
He spoke of the green men and left me his horn,
Sayin’ “use this to call me at evenin’ or morn,
And I’ll come” jolly-lolly-o-lay, o-lay,
I’ll come jolly-lolly-o-lay.
I know in my heart that day will not come.
My Robin is gone, and I soon will be done,
The love of a man will not bring us to one,
So I’ll sing jolly-lolly-o-lay, o-lay
And mourn jolly-lolly-o-lay.
(slowly)
The Sheriff of Nottingham sent us his men,
To carry me off hoping I’d marry him.
He’ll find but a cold corpse and well-poisoned rim,
And no lady to sing jolly-lolly-o-lay,
She is gone jolly-lolly-o-lay.
Any improbable hero
is a little timid at first,
sticks to himself,
mutters a lot. I’m
no exception.
Today, I’d probably join
in a Women’s March,
but only if my friends urged
me on. Pink hat? Not likely.
But I’d consider carrying a sign.
Still, you can’t make a difference
if you aren’t faced with an impossible choice.
I’m pretty sure now that not just anyone
could have found their way out
of the Mirkwood forests. Some of us
can’t even kill a little spider,
let alone a giant one. Though once given
the task, I did faint right after. But I
awoke oddly filled with courage.
It doesn’t always take courage
to be a hero. Sometimes,
all that matters is a bit of wit
and a gentle heart.
Oh, and I still mutter a lot.
“What is this?”
She grabbed at his hand
Splaying his fingers apart.
She traced the fine red line
Encircling his pinky
Before removing her glove
To reveal an identical
String of fate.
At my parents’
you don’t even get in the gate
(because there isn’t one)
before they swoop,
more Bat than Spider,
coming down as they do
from out of nowhere,
a shocked-skin-wisp at head height,
the gap in the conifers
booby trapped with trip wires
so provisional & finite
in the motion sensor
you should be ashamed of yourself,
the fuss you make
about the thoughts you have –
as if there’s ever hatched
a legion from an ear!
And by you
I mean I.
She arrived scared but not timid
If enduring this turmoil is her calling
Then, she will carry on like an ant struggling to stay afloat on a leaf
The city was noisy, dirty, and the air was smelly
People yelled everywhere, children constantly screamed
The cars, the bikes, trucks and four wheel drives
Blared their horns at everything that crossed their paths
The shops were many with low quality overpriced goods
She sometimes wished she could wish herself home
But here she is and this is how it will be
At least for now until she finishes her study
Big parking lots make me feel so lonely.
So far from the street, so far from the sidewalk,
so far from the bus stop.
Tethered to nothing but the errand,
I walk to my destination,
certain of the possibility of being apprehended
for breaking an unknown law.
Quaint 1950s America wouldn’t make me
walk the expanse of a football field
to buy milk, bread and razors.
I remember the walks
from my grandmother’s house
to the Safeway.
Armed with my grandmother’s
shakily written list, with prices in the margin,
I soldiered down the street
and through a lot
behind a bar
called the Pyle In.
On one trip,
I walked half a block before I encountered
a man lying on the sidewalk in my path.
He stirred.
“Are you ok,” I asked.
Rubbing his eyes, he said, “What’s ok?”
We both knew here was nothing else to say.
I continued to the store,
saying nothing to my grandmother
when I returned.
To this day, I can think of a dozen responses
in answer to a child’s “Are you ok?”
But, the parking lots are so big,
why would there ever be a need?
Persona Poem
I remember my mother’s kind eyes, her voice
And that keeps me going, when my bones hurt
after a day’s work. I am up when the sun peeks
out and I work till the darkness covers the Earth
My step-sisters are off to the lovely ball,
dressed in their best. Tears slip down my cheek,
as I look at my worn-out, shabby dress
And then, I hear a call. A fairy Godmother,
she works her magic, and transforms me into
a princess. I enjoy myself in the ball, an eye
at the clock. I rush home, to the life I know,
with dreams in my eyes, that include the Prince
and a life together. This repeats for a few more
balls till I lose my glass slipper. When the prince
comes looking, my sisters try the slipper, I await
my chance. The slippers fit. My hands slip into the
hands of the Prince, and I realize that, dreams come true
Short and curly cute and cuddly
Oh piggy oh piggy
Must you also taste so good