Color This April

Each inch of white ground

Allows the wonder of a cold blanket

To build and bully the grasses below,

Bend and bow and be still.

Even the orange cat

No longer wants to watch

Out the window at gray skies

And white, slanted driving snow.

Even the tipped brown slats

At the weary and worried window

Cannot slide the depressing scene away

And so will be closed.

 

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April Snow. April Show.

April snow is on the ground.

That’s just not right.

Pretend kites in colors loud

Are all above in flight.

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The Gear I Was In

I used to motorcycle.

No, not as a passenger; I had my own ride.

A beloved Yamaha V-Star 1100 Custom which

Was never laid on its side, I’m proud to say.

Pearl and taupe from fender to fender,

And a black Mustang seat.

And the gear for protection over the thousands

Of miles ridden in heat and wind and often rain.

White full-face helmet.

Black and silver Kevlar jackets—one for perfect days,

A second for the cold (which was often).

So I felt protected on the speedways or back roads.

Always, too, I’d protect my hands with leather.

Light gloves for summer, insulated ones for fall.

Steel-toed boots worn on almost every ride

Not at all feminine but safety first kept me alive

Through eight years

Of two-wheel travels into and through many states

Until one day I just knew that every ride taken

Had tempted the fates that dwell on shared roads.

To tell of my adventures

One by one or even as a quick overview

Cannot be done here in one page, in one sitting

So, in lieu, I’ll just say I’d ride each mile again.

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Winter to Spring—Not Always a Good Thing

A painter was hired to work in the small back room.

Easy enough.  Except on Friday, he said with a look of gloom,

“Seems like we’re gonna have to stop before we even got started.

You’ve got water in the ceiling and the sheetrock’s tape parted.

Yep, the insulation’s soaked; surprised it didn’t fall down.

Guess we’ll get to our next job just across town.

Give me a jingle when you got it all figured out, we’ll come on back.”

In the now quiet house I simply thought, ‘Crap.’

And then I got on the phone

One call to a roofer and one started an insurance claim on our home

Which led to a Paul Davis Company restoration rep coming in with three fans

And I worried about the cost with this change in our plans.

On Monday the industrial drying equipment was removed

After my new PDC friend Mike said the room’s humidity readings had vastly improved.

Today a new team of two arrived to shellac against mold.

Insurance will pay for all this—after deductible—is what I’ve been told.

Tomorrow I’ll either be dancing or depressed

Once the roofer and adjuster meet here and have the damage assessed.

Perhaps I’ll write more afterwards on how this true story will finish.

Or not. Already it’s become days from hours, hours from minutes.

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Day’s End

Tick tock

It’s the clock

Calling me to sleep.

Wash face

Slow the pace

Undone tasks will keep.

 

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Did We Watch the Same Thing?

When it comes to selecting Netflix movies

Which should live up to their reviews,

I hit ‘play’ expecting what should be

The best of a writer’s muse.

More often my luck has it, though,

What’s deemed ‘hilarious’ is lost on me.

The Kids Are All Right—winner of Golden Globes—

Guess I’m missing the humor in this overtly gay and sex “comedy”.

Should I have laughed at the women kissing women?

(Me, I’ve just never understood that urge.)

Or was it the kid wanting to do it with a hapless dog?

God, that made me want to purge.

So, yeah, I was slightly – no, more than slightly miffed

To spend yet two more hours puzzled and misled;

Teenage angst and a good old romance left to instead drift

Into T & A and gay and lays – and where’s the hilarious thread?

One final note before you blast me for having it all wrong:

I’m not a prude; I have gay friends, and pour me a glass of wine

But don’t insult my ability to tell when I’m being strung along.

If needed, we can agree to disagree and then we’ll be just fine.

 

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Online Income for Little Work? Think Again.

Writing hard copy poetry is sounding better

Than submitting online words which pull ‘likes’

Because often the visitor leaves a short e-letter

For the goal that their own site gets more spikes.

You damn ‘Empowerment Network’ greedy slime

(And it takes a lot for me to sound so crass)

Anything to attempt pocketing another’s dime

Because of you I’m seeing a half empty glass

If you’re non-EN readers, you’ll not believe the extent

On how many out there fall into this group

Check your own blog notices for these flatulents

Their links lead to sites which attempt to dupe

Who wouldn’t want to pull in money with little effort?

Their blogs claim—(same word strings on many sites)–

You too can join them . . . if you just first divert

$25 per month then giving you, sweet dreamers, the right

To mimic their tactics in trying to entice even more

Web users via emails and pleas and pleasantries

To enter this pyramid via the basement door

And most likely alienate many friends and your families

But you don’t think just $25 is where it stops, do you?

No, there are $1500 and $3000 ‘all in’ levels

Buying into this wishing-well scheme, you’d be a fool

Once in, try to get out—your life becomes disheveled.

Did I, you wonder, fall for these stories of glamor and glitz?

No, but I’ll admit I came close until their video connection failed

My starry-eyed state of rapture was bumped from transfixed

And my online check with the BBB gave them an ‘F’ so I bailed.

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