Friday, August 26, 2016

Poetic Asides One word attention getter


You didn’t expect it
But there it is
Right in front of you
Daring you to dream
And see what pops up next.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

PB 31 Sundown


The pink glow
Announces the day’s end

The cool breeze
Soothes, calms

The night rain
Taps out a lullaby

The fresh fragrance
Massages the spirit

I go to bed in peace
With fresh mint

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

PB 30 Summer Storm

Summer Storm

The day she came to visit her sister,
it rained harder than I’d ever seen it rain
in southwest Colorado. The streets were rivers.
The parks and fields, lakes.
It came down like it would never quit.
It seems strange when two rare events
happen on the same day. 

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Day 29 Somethingville


Wasting away in Poetryville
Looking for my lost fickle muse
Rhythm and Rhyme are in hiding
Singing the poetry blues

Wasting away in Poetryville
While summer fun goes on around me
The land of diction, meter and feet
Have somehow trapped and bound me

Wasting away in Poetryville
Where figurative language is king
Time ticks away on the face of the clock
Till my muse returns and takes wing

Monday, August 22, 2016

PB 28 Place

New Florence, PA

I grew up in a tree-filled valley
and New Florence, “down street,”
was about a mile down Shannon Creek Road
and over Town Hill. Population 1,000.
Most of the houses were white
with “New Florence green” porches.
There were a few basic churches
and two gas stations.

The Dairy Nook where
we kids sat in the booth and left spoons
balanced on the edges of hot chocolate cups.
Or we’d go to the drugstore where
we liked to sit at the only booth
and order ice cream for fifteen cents.
The table underside was dotted with gum.

Deranaldo’s where you could actually buy clothes.
The bank with the drinking fountain in front
where the do-nothings hung out.
A small grocery store called “Pecks”
where old guys and some young
played pinball and drank coffee.

Across the street, Trimble’s,
another grocery store with a wooden floor.
The post office had a bulletin board
to post the town going-ons.
It was usually empty.
Kavinaughs, a little hardware store,
where they also sold vegetables out front.

Down past the “subway”
which was really an underpass
for the train tracks on top,
a feed mill sat so long
it looked like the wind would blow it over.
Kenneth’s Funeral Home and the library.

Two brick schools--an old red one where my Dad had attended
before my Grandpa sent him out to the country school
because the town teacher had it out
for the rascally red-haired boy.
The newer yellow one was where I went.

New Florence doesn’t look like that anymore.
They say they even have an Arby’s and a Dollar Store.
The fountain still works but no one stands there.
The Drugstore, Deranaldo’s, Dairy Nook, Peck’s,
Trimble’s, the gas stations, the schools, they’re all gone.
Most of the houses are still white
with New Florence green porches.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

PB 27 summer colors

Green with Envy

Lime bikini
Olive skin
Emerald eyes

I may be a bit jaded
But with an avocado figure
I look tacky in my khakis. 

Saturday, August 20, 2016

PB 26 similes and metaphors

Mountain Hike

Like moles we crawl out in darkness to beat the heat.
We ascend the mountains like goats looking for pasture.
By the time we get to the switchbacks
we’re moving like sloths, very tired sloths.
We arrive at the lake
and lie on the grass like beached whales.
We gulp down our lunches like starving dogs.
Then we slowly rise like lazy cats
reluctantly ending their naps.
Then we shuffle down like migrating penguins.
Finally, in the truck, our muscles screech like owls.