Deft

A friendly editor who reads my verse
E-mailed: “your poems have struck a chord in me.”
Unsure, I wondered, was this praise or curse;
A B-flat minor chord, was that the key?

Good humored, he replied he found me “deft”
(Now there’s a word you don’t see ev’ry day).
Perhaps he meant my poetry had heft,
Was skillful in a sure and easy way.

At eighty-three, my body’s sore, not deft,
So physicality’s not what he meant
Despite my age I’m not yet brain bereft
Though memory is often dark or bent.

Perhaps perceptive, honest and candid,
He simply noticed that I’m right-handed.
(7/13/13)

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry (What is it?), Vanity

At The Paddle Tennis Courts: Huggers

We older guys down at the tennis courts
Sometimes play, but mostly come to watch girls
(Wearing halter tops and skirts way too short)
Enchant the worst among us into churls.

Two or three unruly souls just ogle
Waiting for their chance, looking to embrace,
They peer with lust, predatory eagles,
And plan to place themselves face to chic face.

The other day one of them sprinted by
Determined to meet Paula, claim his hug;
Not one of those demure hip slants to side—
He forced full pelvic press (poor Paula—ugh!).

Though pleasure gleamed, desire all a-whet,
Deep down he knew that hug was all he’d get.
(6/29/13)

Posted in Aging, Beauty, Lust

The New Black Plague: Empathy

Not long ago, I whined:
“What’s wrong with me?
Why, despite my wealth and health,
My loving wife and sober kids,
My spirit writhes and wanes?”

I suffer a dis-ease.
Victims of global hate
Infect my soul
With empathosis, sliding down
To deadly empathitis.
(6/24/13)

Posted in Politics, Religion, Today's News, War

The Holy Truth

I found a flyer stuck on my front door.
“Truth, where can you find it? Hear the answer
At a free public event!” Can’t ignore
Invitations that promise such a prance!

I opened the small folded sheet, and found
It came from those Jehovah’s Witnesses
Who task their holy selves to make the rounds,
To spread their dim “truth,” however witless.

Myths abound! Monkeys leap from India
To Ceylon. Icarus soared too damn high.
But those are only fairy tales. Red Sea
Divided by Yahweh? The truth! No lie!

Why? Because it’s written there, in our book.
John seventeen inscribes what must be sooth!
Believe our miracles! Don’t be a schnook!
“Sanctify them in truth. Thy word is truth.”

Walk on water, or change it to red wine?
No problem. Raise Lazarus from the grave,
Stretch fish and loaves so multitudes might dine,
Engage with long dead prophets in conclave.

Our god performed a panoply of tricks,
But couldn’t skip its death on two crossed sticks.
(6/23/13)

Posted in Bullshit, Religion, Wisdom

The Music Of Critical Response

For S.S.

Well known unwritten protocols insist

On generosity, however mild.

One never growls “Dear friend, please, please desist!

Your hapless, somber verse leaves art defiled.”

The editors (kind, always) never say:

“Your poems just stink—please, please why don’t you quit?

Your fumbling words convey an ass’s bray.”

Their rejects purr “Quite nice, but don’t quite fit.”

My wincing friends respond “My fav’rite lines

Are E and F”—they never say “You bore.”

And recently, one editor opined,

“Two of your verses really struck a chord.”

Which chord? A flared C major CRESCENDO,

Or B flat minor diminuendo?

(6/3/13)

Posted in Poetry (What is it?), Vanity, Words

Memorial Day At Venice Beach

Each year
The body-builders come
To Muscle Beach
Vying for attention,
Admiration.

The women
Cover nipples
And vaginas
(Resentfully),
While displaying
Well-oiled bodies.
Their taut butts,
Flexed,
Display a tight crack
Able, in a pinch,
To crack nuts.
(5/28/13)

Posted in Beauty, Local Color, Vanity