Morning Triku #155 – Drums Rolling

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Taxing Tax Free

The nice thing about
being an author is you
wrote your own paycheck.

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More or Less

If you try sometime
you do find you get what you
tried for but no more.

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Dueling Wits, I Coulda Had a G8

If a sum’s greater
than its parts, then parts lacking
must be a summit.

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Final Farcical Fantasy

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Some lyrical words to piss some off,

some will laugh, cry, scream or scoff.

It’s one man’s opinion and nothing more,

yet when the damage done there is no cure.

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“We the people” – (unless your broke),

“life, liberty and happiness”, what a joke.

It’s freedom for some, never all,

so forget your worries at the mall.

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The air is hot, skip the coat,

but buy a boat so you can float.

Then folic in that bobbing shit –

of vulgar words spewed by a bigot.

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A genetic failure of mankind,

a big dyed head and little mind.

Tiny hands embracing arms,

killing more dropping bombs.

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So follow the clown to crazy town.

Unless of course a shade of brown.

But pinheads, racist’s and sexist’s welcome,

kiss his ass and maybe get some.

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Standing tall above us all,

to your knees and heed his call.

Feed more to that bloated girth.

Then the roach shall inherit the earth.

~*~

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Shades of Dark

Sonnets of emotion; love and devotion

Poetry of gloom and despair

Words that swell from within

Seeping doubt and fear

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Alas the pen will scrape the bottom

Of the well I wish to dry

But brittle, little shards of black

Have crusted in my eye

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Tears will form, puddles made

And ink again will flow

Pools crinkle up my sheets

The sunrise makes them glow

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Perhaps today a limerick

A laugh to share with all

Or maybe a teeny tiny Haiku

Powerful yet small

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The mornings bring answers

Always something new

But as the day brightens

I find I have no clue

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The sun is high and I am low

Waiting for the night

There I’ll share my world with demons

Where the dark share equal sight

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~*~

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Dead Tired

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Finally, the end of the longest day of my life was over. The tears of the past months now free to flow yet strangely absent. This old house quieter than ever, the door closing behind me and the true sense of emptiness was now being felt as I never thought possible.

Leading up to my wife’s death, friends, family and of course my daughter were always close by and the grief shared by all. Now the house is dark as I stand in the hallway not wanting to turn on the light for fear of seeing the reality of finally being alone.

The hall was brighter just this morning as the sun rose and my daughter and I went off to the funeral parlor for Liz, my wife’s final service before our trip to the cemetery. The morning was crisp and clear, a distant smell of lilac hung in the air as the cars lined up for the procession.

The route chosen was considerably longer than necessary but a twisty country road in full spring bloom is a sight to be enjoyed, even if it to be the last. The funeral itself was as beautiful as anyone could expect, the morning mist lingered in the new day and the birds serenaded in the background as hundreds of mourners passed to show love, friendship and respect for a truly remarkable person. A woman whom I loved deeply for many, many years but now feeling I never fully acknowledged as a person or professional and was regretting having not expressed it more when she was alive. I hoped she knew of my love and respect for her as a mother and friend, as a physician, scientist and teacher and of course as a very lucky man’s wife.

The next few days a similar sad and hazy blur, I just roamed from one room to the next recalling all the little things that happened in each one over the thirty years living here. Each had a story, a laugh or tear, all where ours, our colors, our furniture, our books and our clutter. Each and every piece a memory and all memories of an instant in time to never be repeated. A life time that was a life’s time in the making and yet gone in an instant.

Life goes on I’m told and I would like to believe that. I’m sure for many it does. For some however it’s just not meant to be. I realized this when the crumpled remains of my car was dumped in my driveway minutes ago. And I never got to say goodbye.

The End

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Day Anew or Deja Vu

I woke up nice and early,
to start my day off right.
I tip-toed to the kitchen,
to watch the new day’s light.
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I made myself a coffee,
one sugar but never cream.
The water didn’t boil;
I thought it was a dream.
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I went back to the bedroom;
I found I was still there.
I slept rather peacefully;
it gave me quite a scare.
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The cat was also sleeping,
curled up in a ball.
I gave her a little scratch,
she didn’t move at all.
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I nudged my sleeping wife,
she didn’t make a peep.
I cuddled up beside her,
hoping I’d fall asleep.
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The cat was first to rise,
soon jumping off the bed.
My wife then too awoke,
turning her pretty head.
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She didn’t even see me,
as I lay there by her side.
I could see she was awake,
her eyes were open wide.
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I feared that I was dead,
now a ghost out to haunt.
I gazed into the mirror,
I did look rather gaunt.
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My wife started screaming,
shaking the sleeping me.
I knew we had a problem;
the evidence’s plain to see.
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The alarm then started ringing,
time came into view.
I gasped for needed air;
I then started the day anew.

~*~
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Cadavers

Slammed upon a chilly slab

First a poke then a jab

Next the cuts, twists and pull

Placed in  boxes stuffed full

Locked in a closet dark and cold

Then forgotten until they’re old

Tossed from the boxes into green bags

Discarded with the garbage, bottles and rags

Thrown on a truck and driven to a boat

Holes are slashed so not to float

With procession of gulls bags dumped in the bay

The end of the cadaver’s very bad day

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Java Java Java

My silent alarm, works every day.

Dreams of coffee wafting my way.

I get up quick to make water hot.

Then longingly watch the drips in the pot.

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When half way full the process proceeds.

The quest begins for the rest of my needs,

A big cup, of course, some sugar and cream.

And something to stir a new coffee dream.

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My brew perks away then perks me up.

There’s nothing better than a second cup.

To sip and to savor and share the sunrise.

The beauty’s doubled with wide open eyes.

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I think it’s the drink I drink the most,

Columbian, Sumatra or a dark French Roast.

Whole-bean or ground, instant or drip,

They all taste great from the very first sip.

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Winter hands on a hot mug are nice.

In the summer it’s refreshing with ice,

Or a flavorful syrup or tasty ice cream.

Chocolate covered beans, better than they’d seem.

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Coffee’s always dessert after desserts.

But it can stain teeth, pants and shirts.

A treat always perfect to end a long day,

A book, a snack and a decaf, my way.

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Huddled comfy in a favorite chair,

Sharing the quiet with a loved-one near.

Til pages blur and sleepy eyes meet,

Then goodnight kisses and a last sip that’s sweet.

…

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https://www.tumblr.com/teaberrybee/104066178111/a-collaboration-between-two-partners-in-rhyme

Cookies

Cookies, cookies the perfect treat.
Eat them in shoes, socks or bare feet.
I’ve eaten them in my underwear.
You can eat them nude, if you dare.

Sometime just one, sometimes more,
Fresh from the oven or the store.
I prefer fresh, chocolate goo.
But from a box or bag will do.

There’s no time of the day or night,
When eating cookies isn’t right.
When times are good a cookie’s great.
When times are bad I might need eight.

In the kitchen with mom to bake,
The perfect gift cookies will make.
Cookies soon done and into the car,
Then to grandma’s house, it isn’t far.

That smell of cookies is taunting me,
Under the foil where I can’t see.
But I must wait, we’re almost there.
With bunches of cookies for us to share.

We pull in the drive, rush to the bell.
Running so fast I almost fell.
But I held tight to that plate in hand.
I don’t like my cookies mixed with sand.

My big pile of goodness for us to eat,
Stacked high on a plate, nice and neat.
Mom opens the door, I run right in.
Hugs for all, let the party begin!

The girls dance about in pretty new dresses.
The boys run and shout and make big messes.
When we’re done yelling, screaming and raving,
It’s time to quench our cookie craving.

Then back to the car and homeward bound.
Soon dozing off to a breezy sound.
While thinking of cookies I start to dream,
About a world of cookies and cream.

Cookies, cookies the anytime treat.
Eat them at home or the backseat.
You can eat them everywhere,
On the ground or high in the air.

Cookie rockets go to the stars.
Cookies for wheels on our cars.
I dream of a world of cookie dough.
Freshly baked and ready to go.

Cookies for beds for us to sleep,
We’ll count cookies instead of sheep.
Cookies we’ll roll all over town.
We’ll get some milk to wash them down.

A non-round cookie won’t be right.
Remember the poor gingerbread’s plight.
Cookies not round we’ll call them fakes.
They can all be just biscuits or cakes.

If all cookies where round by law.
We wouldn’t have circles or arcs to draw.
The sun would be a cookie shape.
And big cookie craters on a cookiescape.

A bump in the road made my dream roll away.
I’ll dream another, another day.
Where almost home and I’m glad.
A quiet snack is never bad.

It’s getting late, my day’s almost done,
But one last thing that’s always fun.
In-between the wash, rub and scrub.
I nibble a cookie in my tub.

But I never ever eat cookies in my bed.
You’ll sleep real crumby or so it’s said.
And now it’s time to turn off the light.
Sweet dreams to all and have a goodnight.

The End

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Old News

A milestone’s coming and it’ll be soon,
decades in wait, seen many a moon.
Suns have risen and all have set.
There’ll be a last, but not there yet.
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A half dozen here and a half dozen there,
a middle’s been found, but I don’t care.
The body’s slowing, as is the mind.
Questions answered but still more to find.
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Thoughts now scattered as a puzzle unmade.
Borders redrawn as the memories fade.
Steps now higher as heights decline.
Trips once painful now feel fine.
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Aggression decreases and assertiveness rules.
Passivity wanes when there’s less to lose.
Life’s still good with passion unfazed.
With a muse to love I’m daily amazed.
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The support of all knows no ends.
Thanks to be given to family and friends.
Yes, a milestone’s coming, but it won’t be bad.
Sixty’s just a number, no need to be sad.

~*~
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Birthday Triku

Birthday Cake-

Candles blaze, wax pools.

Sugar glazed time on a dish.

Slices of life shared.

 

Familiar Paths-

Life’s familiar path:

Birth, growth, love, toil and refresh,

relax and recall.

 

Birthday Wish-

They said “Make a wish”

I wish it not my birthday.

WAIT! – Nope! – didn’t work.

 

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Just Dessert

I’ve had my fill, now I get cake.
And a warm embrace when I awake.
I’ll have a dozen kisses, oh so sweet.
Or maybe thirteen for a bakers’ treat.
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The frosting I’ll save until the end.
And I’ll share it all with my best friend.
We’ll enjoy it fresh and then make more.
Forever nourished, that’s what love’s for.

~*~
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To Two Too

Compelled to create an abstract,
with words yet to exist.
Visions created of realism,
with lines all amiss.

Leaving photographic memories,
questioning negative beliefs.
Setting free thoughts drawn out,
frame-less shapes hung in relief .

Day is night on canvas white,
rainbow palettes breathing life.
The bull’s tempered with a knife.
Clouds grow with strokes of blue.

Heat is felt with a brush of teeth.
Cold repelled under layered coats.
Bloody ink beats forever free.
Pages fill black ultimately.

All is done at infinity,
Beyond now we can’t see
Stories tell meaning depends.
Writing starts abstraction ends.

~*~
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Global Types

Sex, size, color and age

All are things we instantly gauge

All depending on our points of view

Seven billion, give or take a few

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Hair, clothes, face an eyes

All are things we choose to disguise

All dependent on another’s view

But just one decides and that’s you

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Stereotypes, media-hypes, everybody’s taking swipes

Each one sharing in each other’s gripes

Yet share we must to survive

While still we share, being alive

~*~

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Destiny

Waking each day before sunrise

Clear yesterday’s fog from today’s eyes

Good and bad laid bare for all too see

The clocks delicate hands controlling me

 

Pump caffeine and nicotine into my veins

To the roads ever-changing lanes

Dodging the many obstacles’ of life

Dreaming of home, child and wife

 

The destiny of modern man

Selling our souls for all we can

But soon returning home to love and family

Reminded that the best things in life are free

 

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Thankful Beginnings

I started to write a love poem but it had no end.
As the love I’m now feeling surely will transcend.
If only to imagine tomorrow’s blissful ways,
the sun will shine inside and out the remainder of our days.
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Smiles and laughter fill our time with kisses in between.
Some good natured guidance shared, but never ever mean.
Together we’re always playful, never do we fight.
We’d rather be making love; morning, noon and night.
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We contemplate the sunset sipping our evening tea.
We’ll cuddle in bed later while we watch late night TV.
We wake up every morning snuggled together as one.
We’re thankful for each other and the new day we’ve begun.

~*~
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A Little Proof

The forest is gone where once a home.
A people lost, now destined to roam.
Legends of old speak of their race,
though only of blurs, never a face.
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Smaller than dwarves, bigger than fairies,
their language mistaken for frantic canaries,
they’re easily missed being so small.
A full grown adult’s barely twelve inches tall.
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Their numbers blossomed to one hundred per tree.
Nature, their home, they could be no more free.
They chose to stay hidden, out of harm’s way.
The choice wasn’t theirs, they learned the hard way.
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The giants invaded with axes in hand.
They chopped and cut for towns they had planned.
Centuries have passed and the invasion persists.
The Liluns survived but only few still exist.
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They still choose to hide and that’s probably good.
As the giants don’t always do as they should.
Their wishes fulfilled at whatever the cost.
This story’s the proof of the many who’ve lost.

~*~
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A Day on the Farm

The sun’s our clock, rooster alarm.

Up to start a day on the farm.

Fresh air and sunshine all long day.

Eat our breakfast then on our way.

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I put on my boots, coat and hat.

And find a glove under the cat.

Out the door to the bunnies hutch.

They eat  pellets they don’t like much.

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My dog follows, opens the door.

Sometimes gone for hours or more.

Jumping high, trips latch with paw.

The cutest thing I ever saw.

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Next we’re off to feed the plump hens.

Gather eggs, clean muddy pig pens.

We’ll hose it down then slop the sows.

Grab our pails and milk the cows.

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Feed the mare, sleeps in the sable.

I’ll ride her soon when I’m able.

First she’s brushed then gets oats and hay.

We do all these things twice a day

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In the garden, vegetables grow.

Sprout from seeds we plant in a row.

Water well, pluck weeds in between.

Shoe away pests when they’re seen.

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When all the digging and feeding’s through.

There’s still more on a farm to do.

Pick fresh fruit for mom’s best jelly.

Yummy sweet, wiggles in my belly.

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Orange balloons float above ground.

Pumpkin pies shared all around.

Our beans are red and peas are green.

The tastiest rainbows ever seen.

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Life on the farm is so much fun.

Little to do when work is done.

Get up early, busy all day.

We eat our supper then hit the hay.

*

The End

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The Fragrance of Fickle Follies

Where jester’s king and knights a daze,
sunsets fade to a mushroom haze.
In castles walled the future’s stalled,
the heat of the moment is to forever scald.
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When dollars found is sense lost,
we’re all to share the eventual cost.
For horizons lured never reached,
minds obstructed always breached.
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Yet an open mind like and open gate,
frees the fears, ignorance and hate.
And whilst moats are filled from the waste within,
their funny stench is where their ends begin.

~*~
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