If you give me a chance, I’ll cheer you up
Lo! here comes the paunchy Cap’n Kirk
–Klingons, hide your wives and daughters!
How often have you doubled over, have you?
I’m gonna rock on down to electric; haven’t you?
Lo! I am your father! Look!
To be or not to be when the force is a farce,
I don my bright humor cape.
Can’t you stop laughing?
What rhymes with laughing?
Lo! it’s giraffing!
Can you dig it?
Peace of the flowing river to you.
Peace of marching vegetables to you.
Peace of red maples in the Fall to you.
Peace of our little town to you.
Lead us from falsehood to truth,
Lead us from despair to hope.
Lead us from fear to trust,
Lead us from hate to love,
May peace fill our hearts,
our town, our world.
beginning with our spoken word.
May peaceful poems be heard,
replacing darkness with light.
beginning with us tonight.
You offer a drop of yourself
as if bitter medicine for swallowing.
Gazers pondering galaxies of galaxies
Are not sick, just awestruck.
We sometimes wonder about you.
Truly, once one learns the word “bird”
They never see a bird again.
It is folly to name the stars,
record size, color and coordinates
as birdwatchers do sightings in Spring.
May a flock of unnamed flying spirits
spiral around your awesome core,
remove the blinders from your eyes,
and unstop your sweet healing pour.
The drone of a small single engine fixed-wing
general aviation plane drew my attention upward
from my summer deck chair.
Then it stopped.
It drifted on in silent gliding
banking right descending into the valley.
There is a dirt landing strip down there
along the river, with a hangar and wind sock.
Miraculously the engine restarted.
It droned north low along the river.
That summer, and every summer since
this near-mishap repeats itself daily,
A test to certify pilots in trainers with kill-switch instructors;
My house must be their marker.
I watch now with new eyes this beautiful silent glide path
on the J-curve descent into proficiency.
Just when I thought the game was won
Just when the bills were paid
Just when I thought I’d found my mate
Just when I had it made
Just when the kids were on their own
Just when I got good wheels
Just when I invested in a home
Just when I trusted the nightly news
Just when it was safe to browse the ‘net
Just when we were over racial hate
Just when I finally had the time
Just when I managed to save a dime
Life happens no matter what
And just when I understood that
It goes without saying
ironically introduces the saying’s contents
manipulating the ear of the hearer
the eye of the reader
to take the side of the saying
In the internal struggle for truth
It didn’t have to be said or need to be read.
but now, somewhat unjustly, it’s been
forced, for some reason, into being.
Like you and I, without our prior consents.
Of course … is another one, obviously.
And obviously is … of course.
Obviously, it goes without saying,
this is a poem, ladies and gents.
They’ve hiked a long way from a fashion model’s runway stride.
These women in their knit hats, leggings, cotton dress,
mud boots to visit the flip bags at low tide
in Judd Cove. They climb Mount Constitution,
up and down with new baby on their backs, no less.
Hearts full of love, so full it does not hide;
Everyone they see, they smile and bless.
They own the bookstore, gift shop, hotel, rent kayaks bay-side.
Local lambs they call by name as they gently pick field greens;
Dressed to perfection with fresh salmon on the side.
They are living their simple organic paradisiacal dreams.
The amazing women of Orcas Island will abide;
These ladies are. I hereby profess,
Strong examples of being happy with less.
Princess Linn refused to let her Science Officer
Wear a stained Blue Shirt.
Yellow Klingon bird droppings may befit a Red Shirt
They don’t show on the Captain’s officer-class Gold.
Blue stands across from yellow on the wheel of color.
Princess Linn could not let this spot grow old.
Acting quickly, she armed her stain-erasing Phasor,
Set to Sodium Hypochlorite; warp-speed thrusters reverse!
She obliterated the ugly alien dirt,
Leaving behind a faint map of the known Universe.
Illogical? Does not compute?
Is this blue shirt worth all that and more?
Yes, to one who boldly goes
Where no woman has gone before.
How could so much mass hang on one side of a human frame?
Can that poor man sit down? Stand up? Who does he have to blame
Unable to bend over and touch his or even see his feet?
He can’t be hungry. 100 pounds of flab at least; yet he continues to eat.
It’s disgusting, ugly, an affront to the miracle of humanity.
He avoids mirrors, hates portraits; embarasses his loving family.
Tsk-tsk, in denial he shovels it in with awkward abandon
Spilling stain spots on the few shirts that still button.