Morning Triku #164 ~ Fine Lines

***

Perspective’s the Point

Renaissance people
love and share to forever grow,
rebirth’s far too slow.

***

Ills to Frills

Hate kills and love thrills.
Words will chill with fiery quills.
Never still pays bills.

***

YOU’RE FIRED!

Hatred in the heart
cedes peace to heat in the head,
when one dies, two dead.

~*~
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Pointlessnessness

There’s a change in the air,
its felt everywhere.
Will it be warmth or an icy blow?
Outside’s to venture to ever know.
~
The future nears,
with future fears.
The past’s a guide,
or where to hide.
~
Scrambled thoughts shaped in rhyme,
shadows mask the light of time.
Moments killed, perspective’s born,
clearly focused or forever torn.
~
Doors lock, window’s seen,
vistas vary with a lean.
Steps taken never still,
ups and downs, want and will.
~
At a point all paths meet,
minds move not feet.
Hearts feel, hands express,
lips promise; life’s a guess.

~*~
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Spring’s Returning

Thanks to all my many a friend.
My heart and mind’s on the mend.
The road behind bumpy and long,
twists and turns, some wrong.
~
Paths ahead are better viewed;
time’s taught life’s skewed.
All that’s known is there’s usually doubt.
But the ups and downs average out.
~
Like suns and moons we all rise and set.
And with changing seasons we freeze or sweat.
Grounding’s found in what’s always there,
the love of friends with time we share.

~*~
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Springling

Baby’s first spring blooms with joy.
There’s grass for sitting and nature’s their toy.
There are leaves to touch and bugs to see,
flowers to smell and the buzz of a bee.
~
The sun is warm and the sky is blue.
A breeze tickles toes where once a shoe.
Daring they get and start to crawl.
They chase the cat chasing the ball.
~
Mom gets it first and giggles they share.
She tosses the ball high in the air.
Little eyes get rubbed, its naptime soon.
Then there’s lunch on a spring afternoon.

~*~
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To Be Forever Spring

***

If a painter I to be,
filling life with discovery,
penning sonnets with oceans green,
there to paint an endless sea.

Or if an explorer I am to be,
quills soaring high and free,
dancing in fields of clover green,
there to ponder what yet to foresee.

Perhaps a poet I to be,
painting rainbows in hues of glee,
paper mountains yet printing green,
there stars aglow gaze back at me.

But a simple man confused I be,
feeling love am I as you can see,
gazing endlessly into eyes of green,
there my heart knows for her I be.

~*~
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Renaissance

I’m going to write a poem so everyone feels good.
I’ll make it bright and cheery as I know I should.
Peculiar times upon us, isolation’s now the norm.
But spring is out in force; soon we’ll all feel warm.
~
Trees are soon to blossom, grass is soon to green.
Flowers will share their colors, bees will tend their queen.
Nature shares her secrets, life does rise again.
Birds are already singing, though we’ve a bigger brain.
~
The future has no guide; we live from day to day.
Optimism is our key to find a better way.
Life will throw some curves and everyone has a pitch.
Some may catch a virus, some will find their niche.
~
Love is in our heart, compassion’s in our soul.
Thoughts fill our heads, they make us feel whole.
The earth will stay in motion; the sun will rise and fall.
Time’s now to show our mettle and share with one and all.

~*~
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Foible

Observing a foible in real time,
much longer than a typical rhyme.
The clock’s ticking and time will tell,
will I finish, or, again say Oh well.
~
Time goes through cycles; we all have our own.
We cycle through life; each turn we’ve grown.
Turns’ incomplete, bumps we will feel.
Will I roll to the end or find a new wheel?

~*~
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Spittleiction

Existing in a parallel reality,
stepping in and out unconsciously.
It’s always good when there’s a word,
a word that’s not too, too absurd.
~
Something descriptive for something unknown.
Letters arranged so there are none left alone.
Horizons abound, three-sixty and more.
Infinite options with only one door.
~
In and out realities converge,
yet this moment’s word yet to emerge.
Thoughts divided twixt hither and yon,
Yin and Yang got up and gone.
~
The quest getting long, parallels evade,
as does reality, mind’s left unmade.
My word yet forthcoming, my tongue tip awaits.
Desire’s strong, my hook salivates.

~*~
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the End

If perfection could be found,
is it in or above the ground.
Or in the air or in the sea,
it could be you, not likely me.
~
Does it make a sound, or does it smell?
If found, might I say, “Oh well.”
Is it the same for one and all,
is it big or is it small?
~
Question’s many, quests never end.
Clues abound but truth can bend.
Eyes perceive a painter’s stroke,
meaning safe in a canvas cloak.
~
Circles run in boxes made,
glasses worn throwing shade.
Seekers sought surely stun.
Perfection is: never done.

~*~
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Fiscal New Year

The mistletoe’s gone for another year.
Alarm bells ringing bring no cheer.
The party’s over, Monday’s arrived,
the holiday’s done, at least I survived.
~
Back to normal I must now go.
Work I must to pay what I owe.
Bills are coming and debts surely grew.
Saving’s diminished; it’s time to make new.
~
Coffee is drunk but the mood is sober.
I’ve interest to pay, maybe done by October.
A resolution I’ve made to end this spree.
But Valentines is coming and gifts there will be.
~
So returns I’ll exchange as sales are waiting,
There are deals galore, no time for debating.
There’s much to do to start this New Year.
Hopefully by spring my plan will be clear.

~*~
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A Christmas Tail

sleepy town

Chapter 1 ~ The Beginning

All’s quite this early winter’s night.
Embers fade in the candles dancing light.
I was thinking of Christmas, many years past.
Those fond old memories now fading fast.

I recalled when our home came alive.
I was just a small girl of about five.
It was a grand old house for mom, dad and me.
Sat perched on a hill overlooking the sea.

It’s still a museum in our little town.
It was built by a General of historic renown.
Shared with his bride Martha, she had a sad life.
The General’s a hero, she a young widowed wife.

h varnum door 2

We cared for the house and gave the tours.
All year long we opened our doors.
We welcomed the guest to step back in time.
So come on in and share our rhyme.

I lay awake and tossed and turned.
Thinking of school and all I learned.
Letters and numbers and new friends,
I hope kindergarten never ends.

My thought disturbed by shapes on the wall,
a moonlit dance, shadows big and small.
It pranced to my table that’s set for tea.
There’s a seat for Teddy and Dolly plus one for me.

It climbed the chair with a dancer’s grace.
She must be a girl with a whiskered face.
Dolly left some crumbs on her plate.
When I remembered it was too late.

I Left a treat each night for a week.
I tried staying awake to catch a peek.
I’ll call her Martha, like our homes bride
But when I giggled she ran to hide.

Chapter 2 ~ New Friends

The days passed, she’d visit most nights.
She kept unseen until I turn out the lights.
She knows I’m cozy in my warm bed.
She smiles and winks, thankful she’s fed.

One night I waited, still in my chair.
Starlight warmed the chilly night air.
Eyelids dropped like the falling moon.
I hope my visitor gets here soon.

Night turned to day, feet cold on the floor.
I missed my friend but goodies no more.
The next night I brought a cookie to bed.
I woke with my new friend by my head.

Days got colder, Christmas was near.
I looked forward to the snacks we share.
Each passing night our friendship grows.
We chat and laugh, I scratch her nose.

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Thanksgiving’s past, Santa’s on his way.
The tree goes up, brighter each day.
We’re happy to welcome all our new guests,
while I wore my new colonial dress.

I tell them of the homes long past,
Of all that’s lived here, my family last.
I tell them of their history.
But never a word of Martha and me.

On the last day of school before the break,
we celebrated with carols and cake.
We shared cards and hugs then on our way.
We’re off to the bus and our long holiday.

Glad to be home, much to be done.
Baking and wrapping with mom will be fun.
I think Christmas is the best time of year.
There’s lots of visits from friends far and near.

Chapter 3 ~ Good and Bad

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It’s not just gifts that makes Christmas best.
It’s all the excitement, no time for rest.
One snowy day mom and I went to town.
Main Street’s so merry, never a frown.

When we returned from our last minute shop,
we saw a truck with a light on top.
A man in a hardhat talked with my dad.
They both spoke quietly and looked very sad.

My parents whispered, thought I didn’t hear.
Something’s was broken too much to repair.
Said we’re leaving, where they don’t know.
I loved our home and didn’t want to go.

I gave the last tour on that very sad day.
We finished our cocoa with little to say.
Mom read aloud then kissed me goodnight.
Dad tucked me in, turned out the light.

I lay sobbing at the loss of our house.
No new friends, no Martha the mouse.
I then had a plan and ran for my bank.
Shook out the coins and my little heart sank.

Martha came close, she knew I was sad.
I forgot the snacks but she wasn’t mad.
We counted my pennies in moonlight,
then crept downstairs later that night.

We tucked my bank under the tree.
It’s for our old house from Martha and me.
But one last thing and then back to bed,
a snack for Martha and a pat on her head.

My dad woke me early that Christmas day.
I knew he was sad, he smiled anyway.
We met mom in the hall, headed downstairs.
We all acted happy while holding back tears.

Chapter 4 ~ New Beginnings

The cookies were gone, Santa was here.
Beneath the tree, present are there.
But shocked to see something I’d never seen.
There are stacks of coins, sleeping mice in between.

They ate Santa’s cookies then took a nap.
All snuggled together in the Christmas wrap.
Sleeping soundly until mom screams.
Then all were awakened from their dreams.

Martha stood out front and winked at me.
She waved me over to come and see.
The piles of treasure they found last night.
That was lost under the floorboards out of sight.

The Generals treasure, his coins of gold.
There’s enough to fix our homes splendor of old.
Martha saved our house and Christmas too.
She helped write this rhyme to share with you.

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From all of us here at our house of fun,
we’re glad to have shared our time as one,
We wish you the all best this holiday.
And may all your days be just your way.

The End

Steve Kittell 120114

The Plump Rump Present Dump

There is an old hippy that lives at the North Pole.
He chugs from his mug and puffs on his bowl.
His mug of cider is both warm and sweet.
His bowl of tobacco is his once a week treat.
~
Mama makes brownies to keep hubby plump.
This task is made easy as he sits on his rump.
The elves do the work most of the year,
until Santa is called to guide his reindeer.
~
He then flies the globe in the dark of night.
And he’s only one chance to get it all right.
The clock is ticking with no hour hand.
Quickly he soars over cities, oceans and sand.
~
A long list he keeps so no one is missed.
He then gobbles up cookies and sometimes is kissed.
Then kids everywhere wake to presents galore.
Then Santa will rest for another year more.

~*~
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Wintery Summary

Our day of thanks is past.
And Christmas is coming fast.
Now all the roads are jammed.
And mailboxes are getting spammed.
~
Traveling from all around,
our friends and family abound.
The mistletoe will hang in wait,
ready for the kissers’ fate.
~
With ornaments galore arranged,
precious gifts will be exchanged,
The food and fun will joyfully flow.
But then it’s back to shoveling snow.

~*~
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Chasing Spirits

It was up to the attic for decorations to find.

But halfway there it just slipped my mind.

I’ve got cards to send, I made a list.

But it’s too late now, another year missed.

~

There are presents to get and beautifully wrap.

But I’ll give cash and save on the scrap.

I’ll need some food, so a trip to the store.

Or we can get pizza delivered to our door.

~

I’ll need clean towels for this year’s guest.

Or they can bring some that they like best.

And of course a Christmas tree, how could I forget.

But there’s always more so I won’t fret.

~

My house is mess and needs to be swept.

But it got a little late so to bed I crept.

Now I lay pondering how my time’s gone astray.

I think my Christmas spirit’s gone on holiday.

~*~
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Virtual Mistletoe

It’s time for another Christmas poem,
cos it’s that time of year.
It’s to be filled with good will,
love and holiday cheer.
*
I could write about Santa,
with his busy little elves,
maybe an ode to their toys,
now cluttering my shelves.
*
I can get sappy for a tree,
our little spire of light,
I could rhyme about nothing,
as I do every night.
*
My purpose was clear,
at the start of this poem.
Blessings received I was to emote,
but that’d be a tome.
*
So now I’ll just end with good will to send.
Happy holidays to all, to all a good friend.
May your new year be one to transcend.
And a kiss to some, but that’ll depend.

~*~
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Ribbons and Bows

The season is upon us,
Christmas is almost here.
Trees are going up,
lights are everywhere.
~
Stores are getting crowded,
traffic’s now a mess.
Shoppers fill the streets,
more than I would guess.
~
Some lists are getting shorter,
mine has far to go.
But no time to worry,
I hope it doesn’t snow!
~
Kids are getting excited;
they know the day is near.
Adults too are frazzled,
overwhelmed by all the cheer.
~
There’re stockings to be filled,
then stockings to explore.
Goodies there are waiting,
a welcome end for sure.

~*~
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Figmented

In a little town not far from here,
there lived a star, a puppeteer.
She entertained children near and far.
While her husband played his old guitar.
~
The puppets danced and the kids all giggled.
The guitarist sang and everyone wiggled.
But behind the show’s curtain of green,
the puppeteer performs, always unseen.
~
But she’s not sad, she’s quite content,
the show’s always fun and it pays the rent.
Their home life is great with two cats and a dog.
And in a pond nearby they had a pet frog.
~
Their children, now grown and moved far away,
but they all get together for Christmas day.
The tree lit up bright and gifts piled high.
They await the sunrise in the cold winter sky.
~
First up’s the grandkids, it’s time to explore.
Next was the dog that sleeps by the door.
The children were silent peaking at the gifts.
Each on lookout in five minute shifts.
~
Tape’s gently pulled and corners peeled back,
they had to work fast to get through the stack.
The children were careful to not make a mess,
because if caught, next year there’d be less.
~
It didn’t take long for them to realize,
the presents were fake and the pets were spies.
The children panicked and ran back to their beds,
to dream once more of dolls, blocks and sleds.
~
But the parents sat waiting at the top of the stairs.
The kids now caught broke down in tears.
They ruined Christmas and the parents were mad.
The grandparents were disappointed and that was sad.
~
A lecture was given while breakfast they ate.
Grandma’s lesson was good things are worth the wait.
And that things are not always as they appear,
you can take it from her, she’s a puppeteer.
~
Breakfast was finished at a leisurely pace.
Anticipation beamed from everyone’s face.
Then a puppet appeared dressed as Santa Claus,
who passed out presents to much applause.

~*~
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Dusk to Dread

Monsters prowled the darkened streets.
The time was theirs to search for treats.
Deny their cravings if you dare,
but tricks certain for the unaware.
~
The moon was full and fog was thick.
This night they’ll feast, tomorrow sick.
Ghosts and goblins in shadows hide.
Porch lights flicker but stay outside.
~
Fairies welcome and clowns make fun.
Pirates afloat grab treasure and run.
Mummies abound wait for their turn.
Witches swoop to take what they yearn.
~
Werewolves howl barking desires.
The shrunken in wagons mostly criers.
Superheroes patrol to keep things in line.
The things all laugh cos their doing fine.
~
The much larger zombies follow the pack.
They beg and plead for an unwanted snack.
The air grew cooler, the end was near.
Then sleep soon ended another nightmare.

~*~
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Hurricane Minnie

.
 The wind had picked up since my last smoke break. A few others were huddled in the alley, all talking about the storm, no doubt. When I returned to the office everyone was sitting, glued to their cell phones, checking the latest forecast or talking with someone. The most recent prediction showed the hurricane turning toward us. Which would be apparent if anyone dared to look over their cubicle walls and out the window. The view was pretty ominous from the forty second floor. Figuring we would get off early I quietly shuffled some stacks of paper while watching the manager’s door. It didn’t take long before Herb burst from his office, then instantly collect himself before announcing the coming storm. As planned, I was first out.

 Unfortunately the minute or two saved upstairs made no difference once on the street. The sidewalks were packed with frantic people trying to get home before the hurricane’s landfall. I could see the masses heading for the subway, the aggravation didn’t seem worth it for a twelve block ride, so I decided to walk. After the first few blocks the rain started falling and I knew walking was a mistake.

 After almost an hour of battling the wind and cold rain I was finally home. I’m not usually too excited going to my twenty eight hundred dollar a month rent controlled studio. When I finally did get off the elevator I felt a strong sense of relief. But for a cat the hallway was empty on my floor. I assumed the cat must be Minnie’s, an elderly former actress from the forties and fifties. She had lived in the building for nearly sixty years and had the last remaining undivided apartment. In nearly fifteen years living here I had never seen the inside of her apartment nor has anyone else I know of.

 As I walked toward my door the cat greeted me, as if they knew me. I walked to Minnie’s main door and rang the bell. After a few moments of silence but for the purrs I went to her service door on the side. The door was slightly ajar when I got there. With a gentle push it opened all the way giving me my first glimpse in her apartment. The cat however was not impressed and stayed close by, rubbing their head against my leg. I started feeling uncomfortable snooping on poor old Minnie so I rang the bell again. With no response forthcoming I reached in for the door handle to close it. Before the door closed entirely I felt a tug and the door opened and there before me was Minnie. I asked if she was missing a cat?  

“I don’t know” she said “But since you’re here, perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping me with a little something?”

 Still confused by her sudden appearance at the door I answered without the slightest thought or hesitation “Sure!” I said.

“Could you help me cover my plants on the roof” she replied as she walked quickly toward the stairs.

 Damn! Is she chipper for someone in their nineties, I thought to myself hurrying to catch up. I’d never been on the roof before, I didn’t know you could. She fumbled around a bit while we both huddled together on the small landing at the top of the stairs. Reaching behind the fire extinguisher she found the key she was looking for and unlocked the door. “Grab the stick in the corner” she said “and put it between the doorway or we’ll get locked up here.”

 I did as she ordered and followed her to a makeshift potting shed behind the chimney. “Before we start perhaps a bit of refreshment” she laughed, reaching for a watering can on a shelf. Reaching into the can she pulled a half full bottle of vodka and took a plug. “ Ahh that’s refreshing.”

 She then passed the bottle to me. I haven’t drank hard liquor in years, but this seemed like a special occasion. I took a small sip and passed it back.

“We’ll save the rest for later” she said mischievously. “Now grab those tarps and follow me”

 We headed to the far end of the roof where a pair of perfectly sculpted azaleas danced in the breeze. The rain was now beginning to get heavy the sky graying and the hurricane appearing evident. We carefully covered the plants then ran back to the stairs, giggling like children as we lept over the puddles.

 Back at the door we found the wind had blown it shut and we were locked out. I banged and shouted for a few minutes in absolute panic. Minnie just laughed and said “I think it’s time for another drink”

 We returned to her bench and made a makeshift shelter with an extra tarp. Once settled in and feeling very cozy, out came the bottle. With each swig her stories became more personal and revealing.

 I woke wet and cold, the sky still gray, I didn’t know what time it was exactly, but it was surely morning and we survived. Peeling the wet tarp from my stiff and hungover body I realized Minnie was gone. Did she get up early and made her way downstairs or something more dreadful. Frantically I called out to her, each syllable loudly echoing in my head. After searching every nook and cranny on that roof top I could only conclude she somehow made her way back downstairs. I went back to the door, which was still locked, but I could hear voices below. First I knocked gently as to not rattle my brain further. Then from fear and impatience I began kicking the heavy metal door and screaming for help. It didn’t take long for someone to answer. Surprisingly it was an EMT that answered. The corridor below was now bustling with activity and a horrific stench.In addition to the EMT there were firemen and police, all hovering around Minnie’s door. I asked one of the officers if anything was wrong. Before she could answer two men rushed past pushing a gurney with a zippered body bag strapped on top. “Is that Minnie” I asked.

“I believe that’s her name” responded the officer “are you related.”

“No, no just friends”  I said. Then asked when she passed?

“It’s impossible to tell without an autopsy” she replied “though judging by the decomposition, I’d guess about a week, maybe less”

 She then asked me several questions about our relationship and when I saw her last. I didn’t mention last night, but did admit to not knowing her well.

 The odor was now overwhelming and my nausea must have been noticeable because the officer urged me to go home without asking for more information. Feeling very sick and confused I headed back to my apartment.

 I fumbled with my keys a bit rushing to open the door. Once in everything looked normal except for the wet leaves and scraps of paper stuck to my window, until I saw the tiny kitten on my bed.

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