Beach Reach

Beach Reach
26 Dec 2015

To watch the waves breaking.
I must go to the sea;
And the rollers coming in,
It’s all calling to me.
Upon arriving at the shore,
I feel the constant breeze
And hear the continual roar
Which nature does with ease.
The gritty sand between my toes,
Feel of humidity in my clothes
And air’s salty scent in my nose,
Work together to ease my woes.
Walking across unmarked land,
As people stroll they emboss
Footstep paths in the wet sand
That wander and randomly cross.
Boundless water and sun beautify
All the lovely things I see.
The far horizon and big blue sky
Are the only limits for me.
While standing on the shore
I don’t want for anything more.

Like a cresting wave breaks,
Practical thoughts intruded
And a mood shift overtakes
Me so my amble’s concluded.
Turning around, I’m incredulous
By how far I’ve wandered to explore.
Walking to my car, there’s an impetus
To look back and watch the waves some more.

Feeling Old or Catching a Cold?

Feeling Old or Catching a Cold?
2 Dec 2015

Are your joints all achey,
So you feel decrepit and old?
Are your muscles a bit shaky,
Like you’re coming down with a cold?
Are you a bit weak in the knees?
What symptoms does your body exhibit?
How much do you cough and sneeze?
What’s going on with the body you inhabit?
How high can your temperature go?
What will make your headache go away?
About the only thing you know
Is that you’re sicker than a dog today.
Catching the flu is such an inconvenience.
I just hate feeling lethargic with colic.
I want to feel better with expedience
So I can get back to my normal fun and frolic.

Who Are You, Passing Thru?

Who Are You, Passing Thru?
17 Nov 2015

Wind, where are you going?
You came for a visit today.
Wind, why are you blowing?
You came, but didn’t stay.
You danced the leaves all around,
Touching everything exposed outside,
Then left the leaves all over the ground.
Such an irresponsible, messy joyride.
After gusting all day, you departed.
Where on earth did you go?
Where and how did you get started?
Wind tell me, I want to know.

Not Your Typical Watcher

Not Your Typical Watcher
10 Nov 2015

I spot the staid suburban sentinels
Posted out on their weekly missions,
They’re keeping this night’s vigils,
Standing by the curb like apparitions.
They’ll stand all night waiting strong
For the trucks and into the next day.
Then the garbage trucks’ll come along
And haul all the smelly trash away.

Ranked by Google

Oh my gosh, I was poking around the internet, doing Google searches and was pleasantly surprised by what came up. When I put "poem" in the search engine, this blog came up at the bottom of the first page.

Proffering Offering

Proffering Offering
11 October 2015

In your moments of darkness,
Borrow light from my inventory.

In your moments of weakness,
Mooch strength from my story.

In your moments of stress,
Bum passion from my poetry.

When you’re scared and afraid,
Put an artificial smile on your face.

When you feel short-changed and betrayed,
Reach for a long-distance embrace.

When you’re drowning in doubt,
Take hope from my cupboards.

When you’re feeling lonely and left out,
Drink deeply from my well of words.

Hypocrisy Legacy

Hypocrisy Legacy
24 Sept 2015

The recently deceased was laid to rest
With all the proper praise and prayers.
The family dressed in their Sunday best
And put on appropriate bereaved airs.
The rest of us played along, acting our parts,
Giving lip service to the dead one’s benevolence.
While we all knew in our heart of hearts
That the dearly departed was full of malevolence.

My Own Website

I'm letting everybody know that I've published my very own website. After getting frustrated that nobody seemed to know HTML, I took a class and figured things out on my own. The website is best viewed in Chrome or Firefox. If you don't like what you see, tell me. If you like my website, tell your friends.

http://www.unclealspoetry.com/

Labor Day on the Bay

Labor Day on the Bay
8 Sept 2015

To celebrate Labor Day
We went to play in the sun,
Splashing in the bay,
And building a sandcastle for fun.
Our castle was shapeless.
The sand resisted conforming.
Shaping battlements was hopeless.
Water and kids performing
Their best to undermine
Building efforts by adults.
Their joint forces did combine
To give suboptimal results.
Amid all the fun and recreation,
The sun's ever churning fusion
Emitted ultraviolet radiation,
Giving the kids a burning conclusion.
From a parental point of view
Perhaps nothing was accomplished.
But there was no emergency rescue
And for the time “work” vanished.

Published in The Australia Times

The Australia Times published another of my poems in their Poetry magazine. It's viewable online:  http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/318/#86
You may need to type "86" in the little box at the top to go directly to my poem.

Reanalyze Thru Fresh Eyes

Reanalyze Thru Fresh Eyes
2 August 2015

The usual sights, you don’t give them a thought.
They’re always there as you pass by, unchanging.
You don’t look twice. They’re quickly forgot
As you go about your routine without rearranging.
From my hometown, I drove with my lover.
We went to the next town for a stopover.
Since it was his first time to discover
We took the scenic route going over.
The views that I had seen many times
Drew “Wow’s” from him. Although he lives
In quite similar topography and climes,
These were uniquely distinct alternatives.
While growing up we take so much for granted.
Many things we don’t acknowledge or realize
How they’re significant, unusual or enchanted
Until we see them thru a newcomer’s eyes.

Internet Post as a Toast

Internet Post as a Toast
13 July 2015

Here’s to words that feed the soul
From whatever source they may be found.
Here’s to bliss and feeling whole;
Now, today and all year round.
Here are wings to help you fly,
Support for the life of your dreams.
Go, leaving behind pain and sigh.
There’s more to life than it seems.
May kisses meet your puckered lips.
Let fears and sorrows find release,
Dance crazy and sashay your hips.
Make living your way a masterpiece.

The New Reality Parody

The New Reality Parody
30 June 2015

Like the bronze giant of Greek fame,
With conquering legs astride the lands;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates stands
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is imprisoned lightening. Proclaim her name
As Mother of Elites. From her raised beacon-hand
Glows a world-wide warning; her wild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Look, ancient lands, at our pomp!” cries she,
Exuding attitude. “Keep your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses working for next-to free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the university graduates to me,
For them I lift my lamp by opportunity’s door!”


The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus, 1849 - 1887

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

No Fooling, Final Ruling

No Fooling, Final Ruling
27 June 2015

Any lesbian or queer fairy
Has a legal right to marry.
This bitter debate hasn’t cooled,
But the Supreme Court has ruled.
We get to count as people, too;
And merit just the same as you.
To me it seems that no one boasts,
Only rejoices in their online posts.
The affirmed sense of pride
And worthiness I have inside
Heightens the way that I feel
To make my love seem more real.

My Monticello Man

Inspired by Kenneth Adams & Kik Grant.


My Monticello Man
9 June 2015

Second only to loving me,
He cherishes his family.
He shows how much he cares
By the things he shares.
Holding on to his clan,
That’s my Monticello man.

Some promises are pressured,
But he always keeps his word.
His words are plain and sincere.
He’s determined to hang in there,
Finishing what he began.
That’s my Monticello man.

Manipulation is for the birds,
He was raised with high standards.
He’s hard working and reliable.
His integrity’s undeniable.
Doing the best that he can,
That’s my Monticello man.

While displaying innocence
He reacts with patience.
Mostly following society’s views,
He keeps traditions and values.
A cut above the common Everyman,
That’s my Monticello man.

Grandma Published Again

For a second time The Australia Times has published one of my grandmother's poems that I submitted.
http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/312/
If you type 67 in the little box, top center, you'll go right to her poem.

Romancer Answer

Romancer Answer
23 May 2015

My love is like a blossom
Or a beautiful bloom.
The feeling is awesome,
Like a heady perfume.

Sadly, flowers don’t last long
And the petals quickly drop.
I hope my ardor proves to be strong,
Strong enough to come out on top.

I don’t usually give cut flowers.
Their beauty fades, goes pretty fast.
Blooms may express love’s powers,
But I want my love to go on and last.

Let my love be something that endures.
Perhaps, of a substance yet unknown
To represent my love as it matures.
Maybe I want beauty carved in stone.

Stone won’t change in my lifetime.
A statuette would only gather dust.
Should I celebrate with a rhyme?
Sure, poetry will keep my love robust.

Paradigm Shift Wedding Gift

Paradigm Shift Wedding Gift
14 April 2015

The official asked, “Do you?”
My response was, “I do,
I do promise to hold fast
As long as love shall last.”
So the long courtship ended
And anticipated marriage beckoned.
A status usually recommended,
Becoming husband and husband.
“Husband and husband,” newly coined,
Not a traditional expression.
Couples of the same sex joined,
Ending centuries of oppression.
Let’s use the occasion to celebrate
And make the party first-rate.
It’s time to join forces, cooperate
And recognize the new way to operate.

Grandma's Poem

My poetry has been published by The Australia Times in their poetry magazine. A couple of issues back there was a poem by another poet titled, "The Farmer Feeds Them All." So I wrote to the editor that my grandmother had written a poem by the same title and sent a copy of the poem. The editor emailed back that she liked Grandma's poem & was going to publish it. Ellen Johanna Larson Smith's poem and bio were just published by The Australia Times: http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/307/
If the link works, in the little box, top center, enter 46 to go directly to her poem.

Forbear My Stare

Forbear My Stare
19 March 2015

Forgive my stare, as I look a you really hard.
I don’t mean to be rude or catch you off guard.
I just want to remember the curve of your smile
Well enough it stays in my deepest memory file.

Moth, Bug Off

Moth, Bug Off!
10 March 2015

In my dry bathtub stall
There was a moth on the wall.
It had a pretty wing span
In shades of brown and tan.
“Poor moth,” I cried,
“You’re supposed to be outside."
The windows all had screens
Obstructing any easy means
Of releasing the moth outdoors
To fly in nature’s corridors.
I picked up a flip-flop
And with a very loud pop
Brought a instantaneous end
As the flier was flattened.

Decision Vision

Decision Vision
8 March 2015

My logical side says,
“Something needs to be done.”
My emotional side says,
“Let’s have some fun.”
The internal struggle
Of trying to juggle
And give a little to both,
Makes me swear an oath.
In the end I choose
What I can best use
To strike pay-dirt
From of my effort.

Reborn Unicorn

Reborn Unicorn
5 March 2015

Once upon a time there was a little Ducky Waddles
Growing up and following his mother around.
He had fun splashing in all the rain puddles.
While swimming in the pond, his joy was unbound.
Poor Ducky Waddles, those activities
Didn’t prepare him for the troubles
Of aging into puberty’s sensitivities
With all its changes and struggles.
His voice dropped and his quack cracked,
And he noticed other oddities carefully.
His crest and tail feathers, as a matter of fact,
Grew much longer and came in very colorfully.
There was an itch on his forehead
Which he rubbed occasionally.
What a total surprise, instead of a blackhead,
A horn grew there functionally.
Ducky Waddles no longer fit as a name
Now that he had a mane, tail and horn.
He chose to announce and proclaim
That he be known as Quackicorn.

Published in Australia

One of my poems was published in The Australia Times poetry magazine. In the top center box type "50" to skip to my poem.

http://www.theaustraliatimes.com/magazine/poetry/issue/303/

Hard-core Chore

Hard-core Chore
24 Jan 2015

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.