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Tuesday, February 25, 2014

How To Stay Married Forever


You have stood up and sworn to love each other,
You have married for better and for worse,
But if you want to stay married for life
Pay heed to the following verse:

Remember always that your mate comes first,
Before work, friends, children or career.
Behave as if your mate is the best thing in your life,
And the truth of that sentiment will become clear.

You are a team, so keep no hidden secrets.
Pool your money and share life’s issues.
Allow nothing and nobody to come between you,
And save your crying for a fresh box of tissues.

When you fight, as you must, always play fair,
Be careful not to say things you might regret.
Hurtful words might perhaps be forgiven
But they are extremely hard to forget.

Remember to flirt, to wink across a crowded room
Try to fall in love anew each and every day.
Remind each other of the reasons you are together,
Remember when you wanted it to be this way.

Treat each birthday, each anniversary or occasion
As a chance to create memories for when you are old.
The moment you cherish may not seem like much now,
But in the future they will be worth more than gold.

Never buy each other gifts for their practical sake,
Don’t give presents that sit forever on some shelf.
If she really wanted a new vacuum cleaner
She would have no trouble picking it out herself.

Pay your bills on time, and prepare a living will,
Get life insurance, hire an attorney and heed them.
They are not sexy or glamorous, or even inexpensive,
But one day you will wake up and you will need them.

Love your mate’s parents as if they were your own,
Never criticize your father-in-law, or his wife.
When your mate’s mother has a birthday, send a nice card,
Thanking her for giving birth to the love of your life.

Always listen to the pattern of your partner’s heart,
Never take the opportunity to criticize.
If you are right, keep quiet, the truth will prevail,
If you are wrong, be grown up and apologize.

When you tie the marriage knot, do not do it halfway,
Plan on staying married until the end of your days.
Life has a habit of surprising one and all,
So do not lose sight of each other through the haze.

Do not go to bed mad – stay up and fight!
Come to the finish and you will both be glad.
Either argue until you have thrashed it all out,
Or you have both forgotten why it was that you were mad.

Laugh together every day, as much as you can,
Laugh through tears, terror, worry and doubt.
If you can manage to laugh at yourselves with ease,
You will always have plenty to laugh about.

If you find yourself in a critical mood
Step back and take a momentary breather.
Never criticize your spouse in public,
And try not to do it in private, either.

Remember that in our darkest moments,
When we feel spurned by the powers up above –
When your spouse is at their least lovable,
That’s when they are most in need of your love.

Do not fall for the glib lie of perfectionism,
Such a thing does not truly exist in life.
If you can be content with what you already have
You will save yourself a world of strife.

Whisper when you argue, keep the volume low,
Never raise your voice unless you are on fire.
Let your lover long to hear your tender voice,
And let your sound always be one of desire.

Examine your relationship on a regular basis,
Like changing your oil when the pressure gets low.
And like your car, your marriage is always moving forward,
So steer it where you would like it to go.

Finally, be an interesting person, lead your own life,
Bring home stories at the end of the day.
For if your lover never knows what will happen next,
That is simply one more reason to want to stay.

Monday, February 24, 2014

More Than My Parts

Written for a dear friend dealing with Cancer therapies.


I rejoice in my life for its own sake.
I am no mere candle, but a torch on fire.
Every moment of life I fully partake,
And I always strive to grow a bit higher.

The harder I work, the more I live.
I am more than the sum of my many parts.
I have so much joy and love to give,
That can never be read on some doctor’s charts

I am more than a smile, a hairdo, a breast;
I am greater than mere physical things.
I have been by my Creator blessed
With a soul that gives my spirit wings.

I have a heart, so true, so loving and full,
I have a backbone, stronger than steel.
There are my hands, able to push and pull,
That can comfort and allow me to feel.

I have eyes that have seen the best of this world,
I have a voice that rings clear and true.
Use my shoulder to cry on, I am your girl,
I will always be here for you.

I have a handy knee to bounce a tot,
And a comfy lap to tell tales on.
I have personal wisdom that was expensively bought,
And stories that go from dusk till dawn.

I’ll take no sympathy, put up with no pity,
Just try it and see how I react.
I make my own choices, no need for committee,
Even in pieces, I am still quite intact.

So show me your love, tell me a joke,
Just treat me the same as before.
I am not someone you want to provoke -
Tick me off and end up on the floor.

But know this of me, if you know me at all,
I love being who I am every day.
I will continue to rise every time that I fall,
While I am here, I am here to play.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Why Dogs Sniff Butts

Kids ask the darnedest questions. Especially at the dinner table.

A casual comment that sparks a giggle fit that brings out this old tall tale that my grandfather, who was not a well-read man, used to tell my brothers and I on summer afternoons while he was cremating hot dogs on a hibachi perched precariously on the stone wall in his back yard.

Despite the science behind dog's butt-sniffing (Like THIS) it is something that kids find fascinating.


The canines once had a doggy party.
They all traveled from near and far -
while some dogs flew in by airplane,
some went by bus, train or car.

They all went into the hotel’s lobby
and they signed the visitors´ book,
then each one hung his bum and his tail
upon a separate bum-tail hook

Now there was one dog who wasn't invited,
and this really aroused his ire,
so he rushed into the banquet hall,
and loudly barked out, ´Fire!´

This got the dogs so frightened,
they had no time to look,
and each one just grabbed a bum and tail,
from off the closest hook.

It is truly a sad sorry story,
for it is a very difficult chore,
to wear another dog’s bum and tail,
that you have never worn before.

That is why when dogs now meet
in the park or over a bone,
each sniffs the other dog’s bum and tail
in hopes they might have found their own.

Monday, February 17, 2014

Foul Vowels


An Agha Khan, at an ashram
that has grand, gala bacchanals
calls a vassal at hand
and asks that all staff
plan a ball.
An Arab lass
can draw a bath
and wash a man's back
athwart an altar,
a dwarf flaps a palm branch
fanning a fat maharaja.

Westerners retell the Greek legends;
the resplendent scenes, where,
hellbent free men seek revenge.
Restless Helen, the empress
weeps when she deserts
her fleece bed
where the regent sleeps.
She feels wretched, left here,
her needs never met.
Nevertheless, her demented fevers
render her cheerless.

King finch flits in gliding flight,
skimming limpid springs
which brim with living things -
fish with gilt fins
shrimp, krill.
Might I mimic whistling shrill chirps,
High pitch chirps
inspiring writing gimmicks?
Might I find bliss
grinning in mirth with misfit whims,
implicit in primitivism?

Books form cocoons of comfort.
Provosts who work for proctors
show tombs to hold bookworms.
Oxford profs show post-docs
how to gloss Wordworth's works,
Lolling on dorm-room cots.
So look for bookshops
known to stock lots of top-notch goods;
how-to books for jocks (boxing, or how-to jog),
old colophons sport two sorts of logos;
oblong whorls or rococo scrolls.

Surf lulls us.
Bucks plus bulls running thru brush,
burrs clutch fur tufts.
Cubs plus pups hunt skunks,
thus, church nuns pluck uncut mums.
Such tumult upturns unsunk hulls -
gulls churr, ducks cluck.
Such scuds hurl up cumulus suds,
gusts murmur humdrum susurrus,
furls unfurl, curls uncurl.
Bulls pull up.

I'd love to know what you felt about this piece. Please consider leaving a comment.

Forty Years On


The photo on the bridge
was his favorite.
The one they asked a stranger to take.
The sun was shy that day,
so was she.

Feeding bits of bread to gulls,
asking questions that drew them closer,
he recalls the meal they shared on the pier.

Her charcoal hair was now diamond
but the emerald of her eyes
had never changed.
He had forgotten that her hosiery was cream colored
until just this moment.

Is it time that blurred these two?
Or tears?

Her eyes were wide under the clouds,
now faded in the print he held
before placing it next to her head
on the satin pillow
that would hold her
for eternity.

Sunday, February 9, 2014



Where do you find shelter
when the world presses you too close?
What cellar can hold you
when intermittent cyclones
cut through your life
leaving ruined paths
through what you were?
Where can you go for respite
after rains splash without guile
full-tilt across your spirit?
How do you cope
with water lashing, stinging,
geometrically across
what you know to be true?

Can you hibernate?
Close your eyes for a while,
let go of fear?

Can you find a fragment of peace
here in my arms?
A cabin of relief
on my shoulder?
Could my eyes and my voice
be a pier where you could dock,
an improbable log cabin
with cedar closets and potted plants,
comfy pillows and blazing fires
where you could nap
until the flood begins to mud,
to ebb and dissipate
and the wind picks up enough
for you to sail once more?

Thursday, February 6, 2014



Reveal yourself to me,
I yearn to know more.
Touch me intimately
From across a crowded room
With nothing but your eyes.

Show me the power of your desire
Tell me how I might grasp your soul
And pull, so sweetly.

Lay with me, teach me to fly,
Hold me within your grasp, that I might be free.
Give me a moment of your life
That I might know the infinite.

From where I lie, I see
The landscape of your body
Stretching out before me.
My eyes travel the plains, hills and valleys
That my lips wish to walk.
I see dark eyes
Watching my touch travel
Along silken dales
Closing only when overtaken by pleasure.

Push against my hungry mouth,
My tongue is generous and gives all
For you.
The avalanche of your arousal
Heaves up the plains, shakes the foundations
And the bodyscape before me
Erupts with the fury of passion
Buried within its core.

Deep in the middle of your satisfaction
I find my own.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The Formal Absence of Precious Things


Though drowned for three decades
she steps fresh as creation
from the broken glass doors.
And then I remember, in that instant
that she is dead, and I am not,
this is another century, so
this must be another girl,
a newly minted stranger,
one with whom I will never speak.

I am awash in emotion -
not loss exactly
but a very particular awareness
of my own duration.

I see a beggar leaning against
a jewlery store facade,
his head pressed against the windows.
In those windows are small, empty pedestals,
formal absences of precious things,
now locked away for the night.

His legs wrapped in brown paper
look vaguely medieval,
a knight crafted from office materials.
He is the color of pavement,
his very race in question,
yet when he looks up at me
my own eyes peer out from his tangle of curls.

The girl who drowned so very long ago
settles down to my mind’s bottom,
swept down in a swirl of toffee hair
and less hurtful memories
to where my youth turns gently
in its accustomed tides
and I am more comfortable that way.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Fowl Play


The hen fluffs tail feathers, hoping for a glance,
From the cock of the walk, a cackle and dance.

Scratching so gentle amongst the hay.
With dreams of her cock coming to play.

Alas! She sees the one of her desiring.
Mounted atop another, in the process of siring.

This fowl wench will not be left out in the cold.
She strolls over to them, so quick and so bold.

Flipping her feathers just under his beak.
Thinking to herself.. I shall have what I seek.

The hen whispers low, with barely a care.
In the ear of the cock, “Her eggs come out square.”