New Gogyohka Poems

bird
on a
wire
flips
its tail


wind
rushes
and bends my
willow
tree


black grackle
hops
and
rushes
to water


silver
bird
has
black
wing tips


life
is a
test
of
patience


feel the rush
on my bicycle
peddling fast
down a dirt road
turn and crash


a teacher
once said
the answer
is
all around you


I pluck
my
Kalimba
for
rain


Willow
sways
to the tune
of the
wind


role
reversal
Mother
is like
a child


Neighbor
smiles
from his
side of
the fence


end of day
takes
the weight
off
my feet

New Tanka Poems

Siamese cat wanders
Searches for holes through the fence
To make an entrance
Smells the earth, limbs, grass and weeds
Tip of its tail waves and guides


Bold weed grows through rocks
Thick arms tipped with white flowers
Unknown water source
Thrives on sunshine, wind and air
And words of condemnation


Dryness makes static
Comb dry fingers through my hair
Frankenstein frizzies
Branching out, electrified
Shocking personality

More Haiku Poems

Big Great Dane next door
Scared me with head above fence
My head about chomped


Young grackle can't fly
Mean grackle pecks at her head
Guardians strike back


Rosemary bush died
Last year, its purple flowers
attracted some bees

More New Haiku Poems

Wild wind whips my hair
Tosses it into tangles
Wearing weird hairdo

Rocks surround plant bed
Sun droops morning glory leaves
Water perks them up

Sensor light turns on
Lift up blind to peek and wink
Hopping frog eats bugs

Hummingbird whizzes
Flies around the Hollyhocks
Suckles pink flowers

Mexican Elder
Long-handled lopper works good
Dead branches clipped off

Butterfly dances
Mexican Elder approves
Breezy air flutters

Nighttime is falling
Trees become dark shape shifters
Time to go in now

New Haiku Poems

Mexican Elders
Growing like a wild fire
Birds hide, take refuge

Calico cat walks
Between the slats of my fence
Happy to see me

White dove on the line
Tail flips in jerky motion
Wet poo lands on grass

Finches, sparrows, doves
Happy hopping near sprinkler
Birds preening their wings

Spring is upon us
Water nourishes the earth
Hollyhocks growing

Oleanders froze
Careful cutting brings them back
New green stems emerge

Gray and white tabby
Prances out my front yard gate
Non-chalant and proud

Willow tree leaning
Forceful wind is the devil
Wood props hold it up

White plate for birdseed
Doves bully sparrows away
Sparrows watch for chance

Curious sparrow
Peeks in from my window sill
Sees me standing there

Telescope reveals
Deep crater on centerline
Half moon is half lit

Gray tabby cat hides
Half looks at me with one eye
Wanders on sidewalk

Fallen bird nest torn
Attaches to grass and weeds
Fine twigs are stuck there

Heat wave is coming
Horizon seeks time of day
Sunsets - pure beauty

Awesome turquoise sky
Bubblegum purple mountain
Color for my soul

Young Girl

Who is that girl
with crooked short bangs,
plastic sunglasses?
Her dress striped yellow,
blue, pink and white
with zig-zag trim.
Patten shoes on
pigeon-toed feet.

Is it the same girl
who believed she helped
in the front yard
at the house on Yandell
raking leaves
with a miniature rake?

Tell Me Why...

I must wait so long
for winter to twist into spring
spring to roll into summer
summer to transform into fall

Tell me why ...
my days speed faster than
a second hand rotates on a clock
their momentum intrudes on precious time
thrusts between seasons

Tell me why...
life is much more fragile
as years furl behind me
tasks take longer to finish
loved ones grow older

If I See This House for Real

The mystery of entering an unlocked front door
of a deserted, New England stone home
left me uneasy, intruding on spirits.

Closed doors—Should I open them?
What if one door led to a deep tunnel
full of ghosts or crazy people?
No, I would not open them.

I opened a door to one side of the house;
aged ivy plants covered a high wall.
The walkway needed maintaining.
For a moment, I thought it was safe.

In the back yard, stone sculptures and potted plants
cracked and stained by crusty bird droppings
surrounded by weeds, trees, and crevices.
I felt spirits lurking at me from there.

(from an old reoccurring dream)

UFO

We were lost on a detour
driving miles and miles
of desolate ranch land.

Trees in the distance,
one lonely dirt road.
Silence prevailed
except for our car's motor.
A mysterious ambiance.
A shiny object in a cloudless sky
flashed blinding tails
reflecting the sun--
followed us there.

It was a small town
in the middle of nowhere,
a tall, bulbous water tower,
a few homes half hidden
behind trees and white fences.
No children playing outside.
No human beings at all.
No cars parked anywhere.

The road curved to the right
as we approached the water tower.
The polished object hid behind it.
As we drove to the other side,
the object vanished.

Hope

I try to keep positive.
Worrisome thoughts intrude.
What if I drop tomorrow
in spite of other plans.

Hope for healing--
eliminate pain,
a plan for the house--
all new flooring,
give back what I can--
donate to a cause.

I don't want much
and loved ones
still there for me
when I need them.

Arthritis

Stiffness in my fingers
an arthritic knot in my left thumb
bone rubbing on bone
cramping, snapping, aching pain,
ouches and creaks.
Must rethink how I use
these worn extensions.

It hurts to unscrew lids
turn door knobs
pick up pots and pans
cut with scissors
write, type
tie my shoes
do laundry
water the yard
lift my purse
carry groceries
pull out keys
from my pant pockets
take out trash.

Must I do hand exercises
for the rest of my life?
Be a pill bag forever?
I don't enjoy growing old.

Dr. Baker says, "Don't say that,"
covering his mouth
shaking a finger at me --
"Those are bad words."

Weeping Willow

Dear petite weeping willow --
I have watched your frail, short strands
grow to long reaching branches.

You are more flexible and stronger
than the monstrous mulberry in front
that broke large branches
in the last ferocious storm.
Yet you survived, unbroken.

Your young leaves wave in the wind
long strands delicate and thin
skinny bark, half-wrapped and supported
to keep high winds from snapping you.
I shake my head and wonder
that you did not break and fall.

You are life - a resilient child
who sways with graceful bends
bouncing back, as youthful as
the active sparrow that jumps
around the delicate yellow
and pink petals on the small shrub
by the chain-linked fence.

I look forward to your cool shade
when you are more full-sized
I can see myself on a hot day
hiding inside your breezy house,
in a comfy white chair with a book.

Cucaracha Number Two

In my efficiency apartment
above a garage on Hadley,
I sit on a long bench eating dinner
at a white picnic table
in my narrow kitchen.

A large flying shadow
swoops across the white walls.
"Oh, it's just a moth."
I shrug it off without looking.
Moths are quiet.
This one is buzzing.
I look up and my calm heart
crashes into my ribs.

I shift into overdrive.
A red cucaracha,
longer than my palm
with extra long wings
flies around my kitchen --
a mad bug on drugs.
Quick, to the closet
to grab the broom.
I wrap my hands
around the stick end,
swing the straw end in the air
thrashing the nasty cucaracha
against the walls
shredding it into broken pieces.

Cucaracha Number One

So I turn on the bathroom light,
jump and jiggle as if I saw a ghost.
A big brown one scampers across
my bathroom sink, behind the faucet,
behind the lotion, soft soap, and electric toothbrush.

With my right hand, I pull shoestrings
to take off my right shoe. It stops to hide
behind the soft soap. With my left hand,
I punch my fist against the soap bottle
to squish it against the back of the sink.
Its legs wiggle as it tries to escape.
I press harder a few more seconds.
I let go, thinking it is dead.

It scuttles to the right.
With my right hand inside the shoe,
I tap it to the left to make it fall
over the edge of the sink.
It slides down on its back,
into the slippery basin,
legs squirming like boxing arms
waving in the air with nothing to punch.
I smack it a few times until
its brown guts splatter.
Its stuffy stench wafts up my nose.

First Presentation

All those eyes
looking at me --
my classmates,
meek as lambs too.
Their eyes filmy
with distant voids
sharing their shock for me
when the teacher
calls my name...
her eyes pierce mine
like flying daggers
that aim at me.

I hide under the table --
try not to receive
their condemnation.
No solid closet
with locking door
to crawl into.
Only wide spaces
between chair legs
to peek through.
She repeats my name.
I cannot do it...
even if demon hands
grab me by the shirt,
drag me out on the floor,
scoot and shove me
to the front of the room,
I cannot do it.

No whispering,
no fingers pointing,
just dumbfounded faces
that stare at this girl
too shy to go up there
for her first presentation.

(Author's note: This memory dates back to my early elementary school days.)

A Waiter at El Patio

This tall, clumsy, yet handsome man
wearing indigo and bone,
and well-groomed auburn hair,
smooth talks ol' Al
into serving customers' drinks.
He emerges holding a
big, round charcoal tray --
unstable glasses and bottles
waddle in slow motion,
lean and sway
like pivoting dancers who,
in seconds, swivel, loop
rotate, propel in larger circles
as he approaches our table.

Quick, I push back my chair
pop up from the table
step far enough away.
Tipsy bottles and glasses wobble
clank against each other
like struck bowling pins.
Liquids spill onto the table
on people's laps, onto their hair,
soaking their clothes.
I get a quick whiff of beer,
wine, rum and coke.
Bottles and glasses fall,
crash and shatter on the floor –
startling reflexes, scowling lips,
protruding eyeballs, flaring nostrils.
Patrons shriek, yell,
flail their arms into the air,
grabbing thin napkins
to soak up the puddles.

Dumbstruck,
I rub my chin,
sprint to the left,
skip on my way
to the bathroom, laughing
like an hysterical escapee.

Wishing for Rain

I want to be a turquoise bird
with a sandy beak and sandy legs,
coral rings around blue eyes,
salmon bands across the feathers,
white throat and white chest,
sitting like a sculpture on my
weathered, rustic picket fence,
to feel the wind blow black clouds
southward, to wait like an icon
wishing for the coolness of rain.

Instead I lay down on the couch
and fall asleep like a tired ol' bear
who just ravaged for dinner,
feeling fat as a fully fed female
on a fearless Friday night,
with nothing else to do except
drag her feet around the cave
after waking from a two hour nap.

Sheraton Westport Chalet Hotel - St. Louis, MO

I just got back from the ACE Conference in St. Louis, MO. This is my fourth conference as a member. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to go elsewhere outside the hotel and nearby Westport Plaza. I wanted to go to the famous arch, but didn't get a chance. Making the best of the area around me, I took a lot of photos around the hotel and plaza. These are my best shots.

Plants and Flowers Outside the Sheraton Westport Chalet Hotel - St. Louis, MO

Lake with Fountain by the Sheraton Westport Chalet Hotel - St. Louis, MO