wednesday night
the trash is out
re-runs of NCIS

bitter cold
hot shower
steam rises

Sunday

Sunday
A good western
crab dip that didn't quite turn out

dark
the rumble of thunder
day breaks

a fleet of tiny helicopters
-- dragonflies --
hover in the grassy clearing

New Cook

I never knew
what a caper was
until now

dragonflies speed along
currents of air
stopped by a windshield

splash in puddles
muddy and delicious
teem with life

rest your head
on your paws
a willow weeps

the tiger lily
striped like the cat
sprouts from a jungle of grass

be who you are
the butterfly
alights on the stem

oil burns
the wounds
of the pock-marked earth

Your Golden Day

Published Friday, May 1, 1931 in the Kokomo Tribune. My grandpa, Dr. Leslie E. Gates wrote this poem in honor of his parents' golden anniversary, Mr. and Mrs. L. R. Gates:

Fifty years of married life
Fifty years as husband and wife
Quite a while to live together
But you have done it. The feather
You have not thrown up and quit
As many have done. Your bit
You've done through life's long span
and what else is there, a fellow can?
Fifty years since you started out
to fight life's battles and rout
Old man poverty who hovered near
And tried to give you the fear
You'd never make it. But now,
As you sit at home, somehow
Or other it seems a dream
As you look back, but a stream
Of pictures quickly flow
Which set your heartstrings all aglow
As you vision the pathways you have trod
And been spared this long by the grace of God
What is the heritage you've sought to gain
Riches-contentment-friends-name?
Well, dad, and mother, from afar
I'll say I know you as you are.
Riches -- in money -- you haven't gained
but your names are surely widely famed.
Beside your fires to get warm
You've sheltered hundreds from the storm
As the "boys" would drop in nearly froze
To thaw the icicles from their nose;
Help themselves to "mother's" table,
Carrying the coal when she wasn't able.
Even in the depths of night
From trains rushing in their flight
"Hi, ye Mother" -- Hi, ye Dad."
The greatest heritage one ever had.
Friends - yes thousands of them -
Of traveling you've never done a lot
For 35 years, there's been a spot
On the map called Old Vermont
Which has given you what thousands want --
Friends. Yes, they've come and gone
While you alone have carried on
And been a landmark in that place
that years, I'm sure, will not erase
And now today -- your Golden Day
A word that many cannot say
Is here. They won't forget --
The "boys" will remember you even yet.
You've had your sorrows and your cares.
God knows. Who dares
To institute a search
In order to your name besmirch
Should put himself to shame
For you have squarely played the game!
You've reached your three score years and ten.
How many are left? Well -- until then
We'll just forget and do our best
To crowd much happiness in the rest.
You've done your share, so be content
To say these words "Our life's well spent."
Your seven children - some far away -
Are all "with" you on your Golden Day.
Then there's your fourteen grand you know
How many on their Golden Day can show
The same? Mother, Dad, what else is there to be had?
Rich? Yes! Money isn't all.
Memories - pictures on the wall
Mean more to you than golden cash
Which is so easily reduced to ash.
Fifty are gone--so come what may
This one thing always you can say:
"Mother-we have played the game
The world we can face without a shame."

a poem that I forgot I wrote, about Ron

I would love you even if you smelled bad
I would love you even if you had toilet paper hanging from your shoe
I would love you even if you were three foot high or nine foot high or wore a size 20 shoe or a size 2
I would love you even if you had false teeth, an artificial hip and other prosthetic parts

You are sexy when you are tired
You are sexy when you are asleep
You are sexy when you eat too much
You are sexy when you take up the whole bed or steal all the covers
Because sex oozes out of your very pores

I like the way you look in your blue jeans
I like the way you look in your black shirts
I like the way you trace your family tree even though nobody helps you
I like your eyes and your nose and your mouth and other stuff

I like that you read all those books and watch all the History Channel shows
I like that you drive a pick-up truck, even though you need a new one
Maybe we should cancel all vacations and buy a new truck
I think so

binocular-clad birdwatchers
walk a moss-covered trail
under overcast skies

a hard rain
with distant thunder
followed by a rainbow

the rains recede
part the weeds
strawberries are growing

next to the interstate
a horse stands next to a tree
unnoticed

as she dips
beneath the bath water
somewhere, a river crests

tissue paper
in lavender,
iris blossoms

Sun Shadows

sun shadows
interplay of light
on gray walls

Stillness

stillness
silence breaks
tornadic

1960s

lawn mower engines
the ball game
on transistor radios

early morning
the dog leaps
on the bed

Haiku - A Definition

Haiku - A Definition

raindrops dance
the pond
swallows them whole

I want to take a picture of the wind

I want to take a picture of the wind
I want to hold the stars in my hand
I want the world to understand
I want to see my dear friend again


Dedicated to:
Katie Broderick and Debra Smith

Passing Glances

One can’t know everyone in the world,
Only in passing
A car or open window
Pieces of overheard conversation

Don't Listen to the Weatherman

The weatherman says pack an umbrella
But he should have checked with the other fella
Because it was sunny all day and hot
He said it would rain but it did not

Whenever there’s moisture in the air
And it is raining everywhere
That’s when the weatherman will say
It will be dry and sunny today

When the wind blows cold and warm
And it looks like it’s gonna storm
The weatherman says it will be eighty
Pleasantly warm and a little shady

Then the tornado touches down
It’s only inches from the ground
It tosses you up in the air
You can see it twirl up there
You shouldn’t listen to the weatherman
He can’t tell the ocean from the land
He can’t tell the wet from the dry
Don’t listen to him and that is why

Short

Being short has its advantages
But I don’t know what they are
I can’t reach my kitchen cabinet
Because it is just too far

So I keep food out in the open
And the mice get to it first
But that is not the bad part
I will tell you something worse

For as long as I remember
I’ve always wanted to teach
But I gave up the ambition
The blackboard was out of reach

I will go through life an angry and
Petite and frustrated sort
Always wishing that I were taller
Knowing I’ll always be short