This blog is about my life as reflected in rhyming poetry, observations and occasional rants. The title is Latin for "information and errs" or loosely translated "hits and misses."
Wilson Arch photo courtesy of James Muhlestein.
Looking at the task to be done,
Didn’t look like very much fun.
Setting about with determination
And stimulated by imagination,
She dug in where there was need.
Concentrating on doing the deed,
Incrementally making progress
While ignoring any stress,
Soon she could see results.
Double checking for faults,
The job didn’t seem megalithic.
Doing her best with a work ethic,
With what she knew and what she had
The final outcome wasn’t half bad.
I swear the gas bill’s going up
And the water bill, too.
It’s all from Al showing up
To shower and shampoo.
When the water’s just right
He doesn’t know he’s over the top
And the water just runs in spite
Of the costs going on non-stop.
He turns around and around
Under the water’s warm spray,
Dancing naked and unbound,
Acting like it’s time to play.
He’d turn the water off
If he had any common sense.
It’s time to towel off
Instead of testing my beneficence.
I fervently hope that he
Cooperates and understands
Instead of leaving me
Just wringing my hands.
While visiting my nephew
The baby wailed and bawled.
What on earth should I do
So he no longer squalled?
I picked up the wee one
And held him in my arms.
From experience in person
One way to silence his alarms
Was to walk the floor,
Pacing around and around.
Going outside thru the door
He stopped making any sound.
In a moment of reflection,
I realized he wouldn't stay
At this stage of perfection,
An expression of his naivete.
He'll be small enough to carry
For just a little while more.
This stage is just momentary
Then he won't be a baby anymore.
Not high summer's floodlight garish blaze
Nor the tepid temperature of a solstice,
The September sun casts its own glaze
Of autumn tone and illumination jaundice.
The afternoon feels pleasant.
As the seasons turn in sequel,
Each with its own feel. At present
I sense that recently Fall fell.
The seasons are turning their annual wheel.
As much as I want to hold onto summer,
Autumn beckons with its own appeal.
Gone is the worrisome sunburn bummer.
Now I worry more about getting chilled,
But there's a jacket in my closet if I need.
The trees are putting on their fall gild
And my behavior best change at a speed
That's been impressed and instilled,
And by the season's pattern decreed.
Let there be an end to the day
And its activity.
It's time for sleep to stay
In all its passivity.
It's a time for changing gears,
Taking life at a slower speed
And laying down, my dears,
To let my pace match my need.
Autumn has come at the roots
Of summer's growth and commotion.
It's time to enjoy the fruits
Of the production and promotion.
Fall has a unique feeling
From the lower temperature
And slowing down, dealing
Nature's distinctive signature.
I've matured into my golden years.
Sometimes I sense it's time
To slow down, shifting gears
To enjoy life at its prime,
To reduce duty and participation.
Gently braking until my last breath
And that feeling of emancipation
When I shall finally taste death.
Let me tell you what happened,
Share my story, if you're willing.
While over visiting a friend
We were laid back, just chilling
When suddenly the cops busted in.
Somebody must have ratted on us.
A slimy traitor we trusted in
Turned all snitch and dishones'.
To me it was just a little toke,
Just a wee puff of weed.
To the cop it was no joke
Tho justice was miscarried.
I'm running from the law
In the state of Arkansas.
While visiting shirttail relations,
We started playing stud poker.
I thought I knew the regulations
Even tho my cousin's a known joker.
You know how the talk goes around
Dissing each other while gaming,
Trying to outdo each other's putdown.
A misunderstanding led to my framing.
Now I'm on the lam
In the land of Alabam.
In the region of rice and beans
I found refuge in New Orleans.
In that jazzy city
Finally somebody had pity.
There among the Cajun queens
Using cagy ways and means,
My hard efforts do the trick
To make a living by sucking dick.
One of my poems was published by The Australia Times (TAT) in their poetry magazine. I'm totally blown away, they used my photo and gave me a two-page spread. After clicking on the link below, in the lower right corner of the screen, you can enter page 62 to skip directly to my poem. http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/215/
Among the abandoned mines,
We look at the summer sky.
Relaxing in the pines,
We watch three hawks circle by.
Sitting on the porch swing
Listening to the birds sing,
Swatting occasional flies,
Not doing a darn thing,
Just swapping true lies.
Together, my friend and I
Watch the evening sunset.
As the time goes by,
Life is good, you bet.
I'm not normal. I'm a twin. My twin & I have always been close. We started life as womb mates. My name is Al Smith. I'm doing my part for the environment. My name's been recycled. I was named after my grandfather. When I was little, my family was so poor that even my name is a hand-me-down. I graduated from high school in Monticello, Utah. Monticello's elevation is about 7,000 feet. Since I now live in San Diego, you could say my life's gone downhill. So I grew up Mormon and turned out gay. That means I'm entitled to multiple husbands.
Currently I'm looking for a poetry coach. Also, I would like to collaborate with a composer to write a musical.