smiles this morning
brisk March sun, thirty-something
two fat Buddhas approach us
with robin-red bellies
full of Easter eggs,
& frozen worms
the beagle is buddha too
the two do not fly
Bella does not chase
she hardly hears, sees, or smells anymore
fifteen, she is a hundred and five,
but her tail still wags
top o’ the morning
to all

© –Limericist 2014

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I
used
to want to
be a sign-board
sandwiched between
soapbox points of view;
ugly, of a wrong energy
& malignant
as
a megaphone
announcing how to
live your life like mine with
a hidden agenda of personal
gratification, grandeur, and glory
that only just wanted to be the first,
one-up on everybody else, know it all,
(((((((((()))))))))))))) I noticed (((((((((())))
I was really onl...

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Of me.
Of mere..
I bespoke this sheer..
shear force
it wrenched
and it wrangled
from my gut
thoughts unbespoke of a
bloke such as me

I wrestled it and
untorqued it
it relented half-wit
and I its
unfitted bemuse.

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