The Visit Beached in his lean-back chair He sits reclin ed and staring into what I cannot reach . An introvert at soul , h e comes alive W hen younger spirits enter , sit A ttendant after banter in the circle Discovering their own lives inside His gift of weaving wings from spiderwebs Memories of dialogs gone by Characters like sibling stars Intermingling until A laugh erupts and bubbles from the belly up U ntil it catches fire a round the circle Fills and lifts o ff high Into eternal elements. Inspired by Mary Lou Kowalski's little book of poems and commentary entitled Old Monk, this is the first (and only, so far) in my hoped-for collection: Old Married.
Limericks for my Mama on her birthday, 1/4/2021 There once was a mommy of one who wanted her child to have fun, so she taught her to rhyme-- the result was sublime except for the times it was dumb. She’d married a much older man. Having kids wasn’t part of the plan, but one night they felt frisky and did something risky and that was how Carol began. When Carol was in a recital (for dancing was something so vital) proud Mama would preen like a smiling machine and award her the superstar title. When Carol to college was headed no chauffeur was what Mama dreaded, so she bought a new car but she didn’t drive far. The instructor screamed, “Let’s just forget it! Now she looks down from Heaven at me and thinks, “How can it possibly be that my little girl child has grown up and grown wild and has gone on a limerick spree?” Now you see that I’m really no poet. I’m a fraud, and believe me I know it! But you gotta admit that at least I’m half-wit. (Oh please can it, just stop it, just sto