I’m already gone
Bold steps mark my wake down this chosen path.
A path that few do take, yet fewer ever last.
Fear and doubt guard either side and wait patiently.
For that single slip of rejection that comes eventually.
This path is harsh and filled with peril.
No soul escapes unscathed.
Yet without such pitfalls and obstacles.
No reward could be worth made.
So boldly I shall step and boldly on I’ll travel.
Knowing that each step could be one last stumble.
Yet rejection and denial do not mean the death of dreams.
Though it may take many years I’ll have them eventually.
The toll is great on this long lost road.
Hidden by the overgrowth of time.
But hidden treasures now unfold,
On the road less traveled by.
Boldly step on the road less traveled by!
Gluttony
Food is my lover
It’s my best friend
Sweetening & buttering me up
Foodie until the end
Knows it’s a betrayer
yet goes on with its charade
Satisfying my cravings
Throughout the day
SALIVA springs up
Taste buds desire flavor
Eating whatever I want
The scale is signifying
Obesity
Which comes with lil regret
YET depression
And the perfect pick-me-up
Is ‘One more plate’ or ‘another cup’
Consuming salties and sweets
Once I said ‘no more’
HUNGRY yells, ‘you’re not for sure”
Hour 13
A difference
Graze upon wisdom, feast on prudence
And gather vows of condolence
Diminish differently sought understanding
And answer desires demanding
When difference sprouts here in
Defy all rules, betray all kin
And restore again your reign mighty
And let your words be known rightly
You know not yet for there is a time to come
To come is a time, shattering the will of some
Where the wind will change routes
And the wait will bear sweet, sweet fruits
Where time shall stay and observe
As war replaces what you deserve
Where the difference will strike such indifference
And the wise will defy admittance
They will surge and flee, fight and loose
For time will bring a victor to choose
A difference will bring the refuge sought
And thoughts unnoticed will form a noticed thought
And all because a difference rebelled insurgent
And fought all, challenged all, to be different.
Perfection
When I think of what “perfection” means to me, it’s always the same image;
A circle of dough, cooked just enough for its crust to sing;
A layer of sauce, tart enough to be interesting, but mild enough not to burn;
A layer of cheese that flows between the crust walls as it should–but that few wizards outside of New York City seem to know how to manifest;
Pepperoni made from pork and beef, not “pork plus don’t ask”, scattered lovingly over the cheese blanket;
This is pizza;
It fills the belly and nourishes the soul;
Like love, when pizza is at the top of its game, there are few sweeter pleasures;
When it isn’t, there are few greater disappointments;
But tonight my thoughts are not on philosophy, but the matter at and in hand;
Mangia!
-30-
SnapS
Crispy
Too Crispy
That’s what they invented milk for
To De-crispy the cookie
Not that it’s a cookie-cookie
Because it’s a ginger snap
Rather, they are ginger snaps
Extra emphasis on the plural: snapS
They don’t really snap though
They are much too crisp
Not crispy
Crispy means crisp-ish
Or crisp-like
Something similar to crisp
If it were not a snap
They would probably call them ginger crisps
But old people and children might lose teeth
Thinking they meant crispy when they said crisp,
And bit in expecting the cookie to crumble
But it isn’t a cookie at all
Which is why they call them ginger snaps
Because if not for milk to soften them up
That’s what your teeth will do…SNAP!
Haiku for a Love
I love a woman
A rare flower in the sun
My inspiration
Maui
There are a few things
They never tell you in the guidebooks
Things they don’t want you to know
About this paradise we call home
They don’t tell you about the three inch flying cockroaches
That fly by night and hit your window glass
with a large thunk
Or the clicking sound the geicos make at night
When you try to sleep
They don’t tell you they poop everywhere
That they glide up your wall
And they own you house and home
They don’t warn you about the cane spiders
Six inches across
That glare at you and then run
Way too fast to be caught or killed
They haunt your dreams and steals your calm
The first time you find one in your bedroom
They don’t warn you about red dirt
Blown through open windows
How it gets on everything
You dust and it comes right back
Like it never left and how after a few weeks
You let it win.
They don’t tell you about the trades
That blow sand on you on a beach afternoon
Blinding you, beating at your skin
Or the blistering sand that burns your toes
If you dare to take off your slippers
They don’t warn you that so much perfection
So much beauty
So much perfect weather can eat at you
Make you pray for rain
Or Snow
Or a colored leaf to drift from the tree to land at your feet.
They don’t tell you that one day
That fantastic rainbow
Swept across a sunlit cloud
Would become almost ho hum
That after the thousandth perfect sunset
You don’t seek them out anymore
They don’t tell you about the rats or the mice
Or the small cockroaches that fall out of trees
They don’t talk about any of that in the guidebooks
They don’t want you to know the truth
They want you to come
To spend your money
To wander the beach
And savor the rainbowed sunset
To feel the trades caress your face
To feel the warm sun kiss your skin
If they tell you about $10.00 milk
about $4.00 gas
About rent so high it hurts to pay
You may not come
They sell you the hula
But it’s just a dance
The luau is just a meal
Ah Maui, you are seductive
As tempting as any heaven
As hot as any hell
I would hate you if I didn’t love you so.
Hour Fourteen
What do you want for dinner?
Food.
Seriously, could you be more specific?
Edible food.
Really?
I don’t know, what have we got?
And so begins the ritual…
Listing every ingredient, the endless contents of cupboard, fridge, freezer, shelf.
Bantering possibilities…
Chicken? We had that yesterday.
Spaghetti? I’m tired of spaghetti.
French toast? We’re out of bread.
Tuna casserole? Not now, not ever.
Burgers? Hot dogs? Mac ‘n cheese? Pasta? Soup? Rice and beans? Fish sticks? Pot roast? Tacos? Stew?
Doesn’t matter, honey, I’ll leave it up to you…
A nightly debate about something so simple, until at my wits end….
I order a pizza instead.
Pardon My Grief
How does one grieve for a living soul
Whose eyes are open
Soul closed
Ever shrinking from the light of knowing
In a cataract blurred reality of who of what of why
Capped Ice pursuing life pushing down life
Polar darkness pilfering all pulmonary exhalations
Can life survive down there?
In the cold, suffocating abyss that presses
O’ Cryogenic geriatric! Are you there?
Held suspended ever shriveling ever shivering never seeing
Through the swamp of failing fluids
Choking down memories like cough serum
Seeping bitter dregs strained past their taste
How can life survive being thusly alive?
Can I grieve at this while you remain un-here unheard?
I do not mean to demean such suffering.
This is my grief in stasis.
by Karen Sullivan
Form: Elegy