Friday, November 27, 2015

November 27 leftovers


“First Vulture Rights,”
you say as you root
through the fridge
opening each lid,
examining your prize—
tasty morsels, dull tidbits,
or something on the verge
of expiring.
It’s pretty nice, though,
to not worry about mold
or throwing things away.
And then there are times
when I bring home
a take-out container
from lunch out with a friend
and you ask if I want it
and I lie and say no
and get some kind of
saintly satisfaction
for making a small sacrifice
to feed your pleasure.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

November 26


The turkey in the crockpot
The dynamic duo sleeping in past eight
Hearing your deep voice break the stillness

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

PAD 25 echo

Echoes of the Past

Your beard is multicolored now
A little brown, red, black, gray, white
We chat a bit about the past
When kids were small and things were tight

Like bubbles floating to the top
Good time we’ve had will come to mind
Like sediment the bad drift down
Our memories become refined 

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

PAD 24 love/antilove

Our love is like a cedar
clinging to the rocky cliffs,
digging its roots in deep
defiantly flourishing.

Monday, November 23, 2015

PAD 23 apology

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry
for the rocks
I threw in our path.

I’m sorry
that when you fell
I blamed you.

I’m sorry
that the clock
is ticking.

PAD 22 Waiting for blank

Waiting for Inspiration

While you smash macaroni
I wait for the inspiration to hit
And our man makes puppy sing
And our woman drinks her shake
While my muse hides in a corner

PAD 21 strange


What you think normal
I think strange
You like things the way they are
I like change

You like to stay put
I like my travels
One stays calm
While the other unravels

You work away
While I stay home
You get things hopping
While I write a poem