A week was spent with no heat;
my old boiler had had enough.
Perhaps it was just a test;
to see if we are old house tough.
The temperature dropped into the teens,
we also had some snow.
We huddled in the kitchen;
basking in the old stove’s glow.
Now the boiler’s been replaced,
our cold feet are now a memory.
Now which shoe will drop next,
we’ll just have to wait and see.
Letters we’ve sent, letters we don’t,
some we regret and some we won’t.
Some we forget, some we obsess,
some move forward, others regress.
The future will tell what we choose,
what we keep and the things we lose.
We’re in charge but not always sure,
some will quit while others endure.
Love it seems a double edged sword,
piercing the heart where life is stored.
Push too hard and the feelings gone,
though properly placed in we’re drawn.
Staying sharp we all can agree;
brings out the best in you and me.
Sharpen your pencils, grab your pad,
connect the dots and you’ll be glad.
While riding today on my swing,
I heard a song and started to sing.
It’s an outside song, inside not heard,
beetles clicking with a chirping bird.
In the wood wind blows through the trees.
Back-up came from the buzzing bees.
Keeping the beat atop a log,
bass was played by a croaking frog.
My little dog barked but not too loud.
My kitty cat danced and meowed.
It’s nature’s band and I will sing,
soaring high on my backyard swing.
I sang a song never to be heard,
told a story that’s truly absurd.
Drew a picture no one’s ever seen.
Often I think of what could have been.
My mind’s made up to not get down.
I stand on my head when I frown.
I laughed at pain, tears I bled,
walked on air that I’ve been fed.
Money burns holes in pockets I’ve had.
Pant less I now go, never broke or sad.
Backwards I walk to not get old.
The future’s unknown, the past I’m sold.
Someday I’ll die, a party there’ll be.
Bring a date and slow dance with me.
Mark your calendar, I don’t know when.
But normal we all can be, until then.
Should have ended yesterday, do is today.
Tomorrow’s yet to come and we have the say.
Most tasks can be trivial but they must be done.
First things must be first, before we have our fun.
Could have’s not a reason, would have is worse.
That woulda, coulda, shoulda, the habitual curse.
The only thing that matters is who we truly are.
Do the things you need to do, surely you’ll go far.
The sun has risen on a beautiful day.
Why it will be I cannot say?
But I woke at dawn and I feel great.
My house is warm and troubles can wait.
The coffee is hot and the music’s down low.
I won’t ponder how the future might go.
For now, all’s good, no problems in sight.
This day is bright and I see the light.
The first snow of the year
fell while we all slept.
We woke to a world of white;
all’s eerily wind-swept.
The outside’s frigid cold,
no need to go out yet.
This storm will last all day,
there’s plenty of time to fret.
The sidewalk must be shoveled
and the driveway too.
The steps will need some salt
to track in on my shoe.
My cats will be upset;
they’re not going out today.
I’ll give them a little catnip;
I wish I too could play.
But soon this day will end
and a fire I’ll then light.
I’ll snuggle with my sweetheart,
cozy through the night.
The first snow’s always fun,
a feast for seasoned eyes.
But after that we wait for spring
and warm, clear blue skies.
If love can be found it too can be lost,
though the pain that’s felt is worth the cost.
Hearts that have shattered can also mend.
The time that it takes will however depend.
Some are resilient, some are less so.
Some are oblivious, not wanting to know.
While moments shared can be extraordinary,
days will pass and most will be ordinary.
Life it would seem is full of surprises.
Hardships do soften when one realizes.
For true love once had is to never forget.
But love never sought is to always regret.
My poem starts today at its sticky end.
It began with a letter that I didn’t send.
I penned my emotions, sealed it with a kiss.
I hoped when she read it she’d too feel bliss.
I couldn’t buy a stamp so I threw it all away.
True love would be found, just not today.
Many years now past, stamps still make me sad.
I was one lick away from never feeling bad.
Life teaches lessons, some are hard to learn.
So don’t let hesitation steal what you yearn.
Take the final step, finish what you’ve started.
A tiny bit of glue could fix the broken hearted.
I heard a story when I was away.
It happened last year on New Year’s Day.
A man and his wife went out for a walk.
The beach was deserted, they had a talk.
No one knew what the two spoke about.
But it didn’t take long for them to shout.
The women ran back and checked out in haste.
The man was gone, his existence erased.
The spa was closed and the police had a look.
A comb was found with a watch and a book.
The detective knew that everything’s a clue,
later that day they found a lone shoe.
The sun soon setting, the search had to wait.
The police returned the next day before eight.
Records were checked and fingerprints taken.
Nothing was found but the detective unshaken.
Seems the couple paid everything in cash.
The deputy examined all of the trash.
The book, he exclaimed, the best clue they had.
There was also the shoe but that smelled bad.
The watch looked expensive but not all that nice.
The comb was filthy and covered with lice.
The detective re-examined all of the clues.
The phone then rang, he hoped for good news.
A body washed up on the beach overnight.
By the look of his face he lost a good fight.
The detective, excited, rushed to his car.
He arrived in minutes, it wasn’t that far.
Although disappointed when he finally got there.
The man had a watch but he had no hair.
One thing’s for certain, he was missing a shoe.
It was a little too late but now he had two.
Now two crimes to solve and surely related,
there’d be no rest until the criminal’s located.
Days soon passed but nothing new discovered.
A report then arrived saying the victim was smothered.
The man was attacked but surely not robbed.
The deputy was called and confessed while he sobbed.
The woman in question was the deputy’s wife.
The dead guy, her lover, had come with a knife.
The deputy, of course, had worn a disguise.
But tans are evident in those warm, sunny skies.
His wife’s still missing but his watch returned,
it covered the place on his arm not burned.
The book and the comb, both common beach finds,
returned to the spa and their curious minds.
Apparently I read it but the plot was old.
The next day I heard a more chilling story told.
An old year fades and a new one shines.
The path is clear, follow the signs.
Hearts will lead where we’re to go.
Minds remind what we’ve to know.
Eyes will see our destinations ahead.
Ears will hear what’s always been said.
Bodies will change as we all age.
Our lives will turn another page.
Resolutions are made, some are kept.
While those forgotten we’ll accept.
Our time’s running out, best to prepare,
midnight’s soon and we’ve kisses to share.
The day was frigid with snow piles high;
reindeer would never ever try to fly.
I hoped I wasn’t missed by Santa’s speeding sleigh.
Who can be called to postpone Christmas day?
I looked out the window at snow all day.
It was a day too cold to go outside and play.
Stores were closed and phone lines were down.
Street lights were flickering all over town.
Dad read some books and we played with blocks.
Mom knitted dad new Christmas knee-socks.
Our oven was warm so I sat close in my chair.
I was waiting for cookies for us all to share.
Our Christmas Eve had now just begun.
But supper was first before more fun.
The radio played softly out in the hall.
Eve, our shepherd chewed on her ball.
While sipping cocoa, I got foam on my nose.
Dad told a joke about a nose that glows.
Mom stacked some presents, but just a few.
She put Grandma’s aside, I had two.
We all went to bed with our flashlights ready.
I got tucked in and snuggled with teddy.
I couldn’t sleep thinking of all the snow.
And how Santa could see where he should go.
But when he gets here, he’d need a rest.
A warm comfy chair would be the best.
Maybe more cookies will help him to sleep.
So I slipped out of bed without a peep.
I went down to the kitchen on tippy toe.
The night lights flickered from the wind and snow.
The hallway was dark, it seemed longer than before.
The handle looked higher on the old kitchen door.
With each step a creak that sounded like “nooo…”
Each step I take I thought I shouldn’t go.
But go I must for old Santa’s sake.
Even Santa must need a break.
I’m sure he has other places to go.
How he does it I’ll never know.
But I’m glad to lend him a helping hand.
So he can have a rest that wasn’t planned.
Before I knew it the handle was near.
Reaching up I turned it without fear.
I opened the door and to my surprise,
Eve stayed asleep and didn’t rise.
I stepped softly past her moonlit bed,
then over to the cupboard just ahead.
I smelled the cookies hiding up there,
too high to reach with just a chair.
I felt all around in the dark of night,
looking for the stool with a height just right.
One more step and my stool was found.
I stubbed my toe but made no sound.
Eve stayed asleep on her warm cozy bed.
I quietly limped to the goodies ahead.
I climbed up on the stool so I could see,
then reached for the cookies for Santa and me.
The night-light went out and I couldn’t go far,
my hand was stuck in that cookie jar.
But with a wiggle and jiggle and lots of stress,
I freed my hand and with not much mess.
I put the jar back up high where it goes.
I closed the lid tight so no one knows.
Then I was frozen in that one scary spot,
doing something I should have not.
The floor seemed far and I felt small.
Slowly I sat, afraid I would fall.
Then Eve’s wet nose nudged my back,
a welcome touch when all was black.
We both snuggled in Eve’s warm, cozy bed,
her big drooling mouth rested on my head.
I woke up wet but toasty warm.
I was happy we survived the storm.
On the window sill our old cat lay.
She’s the first to see a bright new day.
She ate the crumbs I left on the floor.
Then back to her sill when there was no more.
I gave Eve a hug and thanks for last night;
she kept me safe when there was no light.
My cookies were crumbled all over Eve’s bed.
Though meant for Santa, now Eve’s instead.
She gobbled her snack and left no trace.
And when she was done she licked my face.
Then mom rushed in, glad I’m all right.
I told her about my plan for last night.
She wasn’t pleased, that I could tell.
She gave me a hug when I thought she’d yell.
Dad soon came in scratching his head.
He asked us why we were all in Eve’s bed.
Mom told him the story of my planned surprise.
Dad listed the reasons why my plan wasn’t wise.
I said I was sorry and from now on I’ll be good.
And I’ll sleep with Eve every night as I should.
Mom and Dad said later on we’ll talk.
Let’s first stand up and we’ll take a walk.
I followed them quietly with Eve by my side.
We got to the living room and I almost cried.
Santa had come and saved Christmas day.
But the presents can wait, Eve wanted to play.
We played together and now I believe;
Christmas is best with my Christmas Eve.
The holiday’s upon us, still there’s much to do.
Decorations aren’t yet finished, more presents needed too.
Christmas cards must be sent; first I’ll need a list.
I’ve mistletoe to hang, hoping to be kissed.
I’ll skip the wreath this year, unless I find one cheap.
Maybe I’ll get plastic, something I can keep.
There’ll be no fancy paper, tied with ribbons and bows.
The wrap doesn’t matter; it’s the thought that truly shows.
The weather is quite nice, I think today’s the day.
I’ll finish all my shopping; make more bills I can’t pay.
Oh! And yes I need a tree, how could I forget.
I’d feel really silly and I’d lose another bet.
The holiday’s here with a baby that’s new.
Joy surrounds yet she has no clue.
Though next year’s sure to be more jolly,
two legs running while arms hold dolly.
Little hands pull fingers to rooms,
giggles ensue and chatter consumes.
The tour’s complete, then time to play.
But that’s next year, now back to today.
I woke up early but not sure why.
The sun yet risen, no stars in the sky.
This shortened day will too soon pass.
Memories linger of lush green grass.
The water boils and cats get fed.
Should I persist or go back to bed?
Bed is warm, my kitchen’s cold,
New England winters’ getting old.
My pad awaits and pencils ready.
Ideas are shaky but hands steady.
Now is now but soon to be then.
If not today perhaps not again.
First a letter, then words will follow.
Most are solid, some ring hollow.
But any start’s better than none.
Good or bad, at least it’s done.
It fogs my thoughts and ruins my sleep.
I now count likes because I’m the sheep.
Powerless for a day and I went insane,
I think the web’s controlling my brain.
I spend many hours checking the news.
Then I research the reasons for my blues.
The puzzled web of opinions never ends.
And I’ve games galore so I don’t need friends
I can take lots of photos no one will see,
recording things that were important to me.
I can compose emails and send a text,
then constantly wait for what comes next.
I can phone in my car with maps on the screen.
The music’s unlimited and videos seen,
I can cast to TV and see it large.
But I need a break; it’s time for a charge.
My day begins before the sun’s rise.
My cat meows and I open my eyes,
I stumble downstairs and she gets fed.
If the weather’s bad we go back to bed.
If the weather’s good we’ll stay awake.
I’ll boil some water and coffee I’ll make.
Then off to the porch, facing due east.
The sky lights up and eyes will feast.
The dark now shed the future’s begun.
We’ve choices to make; good, bad or fun.
I choose fun because that’s always good.
The bad’s unchosen that’s understood.
An hour passes and sometimes two.
Where the time goes I have no clue.
Often I write or just sit and ponder.
I think of life and what I squander.
The sun gets high, the workday’s soon.
There’ll be hustle and bustle till late afternoon.
The clock ticks slower thinking of home.
Then back to the porch where minds can roam.
Kisses on her neck
Nibbles on her lobes
Curves gently caressed
Tingling in her toes
Breathing grows heavy
Candles light our way
Sounds of passion louden
Violins softly play
Time losses presence
Euphoria sets the tone
Bliss’s soon to follow
As one, not alone
My little town is changing,
the old folks are moving away.
Little kids are moving back,
now there’s screaming every day.
The houses too are changing,
paint jobs have gone awry.
Gone the regard for history,
the zip code is now the why.
Perhaps I too am changing,
my future being soon elsewhere.
While life forever changes,
what remains was always there.
My word for the day is unforthcoming.
The results of which have got me bumming.
Its meaning is clear and so apropos.
I need to write but I’ve lost the flow.
People I ask are too unforthcoming.
The guesses they make are all unbecoming.
Or they just shrug and say “I don’t know”.
My patience then reaches another plateau.
The future’s events remain unforthcoming.
Yet my wordy obsession is clearly mind numbing.
I’ve planted this seed that now I must sow.
I’ve felt the drought and now I must grow.
Though this poem’s end is still unforthcoming,
my mood’s improving, soon I’ll be humming.
But to not get too stressed I’ll take it real slow,
so if not today then surely tomorrow.
I’m starting my day in a positive way.
Good morning to all is what I say.
If it’s not morning have a good night.
Your time will come to see the light.
Life will be both happy and sad.
When it’s not bad you should be glad.
And when it’s good share your bliss.
If you’ve a partner, share a kiss.
Share your joy with one and all;
acts of kindness are never small.
A simple smile will brighten a day.
A simple good morning will have its sway.
Awake is a plus, the future starts there.
Dwell on the positives and subtract despair.
Time keeps ticking and forward we go.
Don’t be conned, think like a pro.
On a street that shouldn’t be there,
there’s a house that shouldn’t stand.
Its front is covered in thorny vines,
out back a yard of sand.
The windows are always open,
cats all come and go.
There’s a dog that barks all night,
it’s really a horror show.
There’s an old car in the driveway,
but no one has seen it move.
A radio’s always blasting upstairs,
so someone’s got the groove.
The locals all say it’s haunted,
they’ve heard stories all their life.
Newlyweds had once lived there,
but no one had ever seen the wife.
Packages and mail get delivered,
but the trash never goes out.
Imagination fills in the blanks,
cos that’s what fantasy’s about.