Dating Myself

Actors and actresses long forgotten.
Classic TV shows refresh my mind –
much loved shows after 35 years,
thanks to DTV and Retro TV.
"Oh yeah, there's what's his name!"

Analog and rabbit ears now the past.
New box on top of my TV.
New flat antenna on a top shelf.
DTV not fun to watch during storms,
images staggering, a pixel dance,
worse than zoomed images in Photoshop.

These shows equal the good days--
messages with fine morals.
I miss the old favorites – Emergency,
Rockford Files, Dragnet, Magnum P.I.,
Ironside, Night Gallery, Alfred Hitchcock –
when subdued colors flicker to outrageous reds,
as if characters all have high blood pressure.

Pigeons

Loud gray pigeons, cooing,
surround one brown one.

Some peck between gravel,
search for wind-blown seeds
from yellow-flowered shrubs.

A sated fat pigeon
hobbles along the curb,
performs a dance,

part clumsy curtsy, some wobble,
a little trip and fall, prancing,
part "Madam, look at me."

She, a center of attention,
stands firm, dignified,
perhaps amused
by the entertainer, Mr Fatso –
white-chested, ash-bellied.

I picture him wearing a white
round hat, white jacket,
tapping a baton, a grand fanfare.

Oh the competition, abundance
and what a pronouncement
out of 10 or 20 cooing males
to one reserved, silent female.

She ignores the others
who wait and stare at her.
They hope she chooses
one of them who cares,
won't bring fake promises
as would the showman,
the quick overnighter –
Mr. Extraordinaire.

Finding My Muse

Do poets pay homage to a muse—
invoke by asking for help? HELP!
I need inspiration. I have not studied
the nine muses of Greek mythology.

Where are they?

Today, I ask the epic muse
to help me find my heroes.
The muse of tragedy suffers
because of social degradation and divisive
politicians who destroy America.
Maybe I'll find the muse of lyre music
to set a mood. The muse of hymns
goes to my mother's house. I know,
I can hear her humming. Last summer,
the muse of dance performed Pow-Wow's
in full costume—in blistering heat.
The muse of comedy plays on TV,
just watch the Hollywood crowd.

Where do I fit? Am I like Urania
the celestial muse, cosmic
poet of the heavens, sings lyrics
while holding a globe and compass?
My muse is with life on earth,
wind, trees, birds and sea,
air, light, moons, sun and poetry.
Though I have little clue about the cosmos,
I enjoy gazing at night's endless sky
to marvel at stars and search for UFOs.