Poetry Blog by d.knape

Oh what a sight

mounds of delight

not wrong just right

meatballs tonight!

Red meat so bright

tongue loves each bite

done seen the light

meatballs tonight!

Taken to new heights

Got the green light

seconds we might

meatballs tonight!

Hunger our plight

now no more gripes

our lips we swipe

meatballs tonight!

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one bird

limps across the parking lot

like a peg-leg pirate

he is gimpy

but not wimpy

he gets along quickly

despite his disability

he has to find that chip bag

before the others

so he limps with firm purpose

he has learned

to be smarter than the others

to use his wits

bird two

has no tail

he looks like he has been in

a fight or a car wreck

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Out in the fields

you will find

traces of trails

just faint bending of grass

underneath sight

a way in the dirt

from place to place

where something has gone through

enough times the same way

to leave their mark

the fields are full of roads like this

left by creatures of the night

busy at their work

comings and goings

paths toward escape

or home.

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When all the seniors

have been taxed out of their homes

and all their savings used up

and the cost of living

is not worth the living

we will know that

what we worked and paid for

was not worth it

we came in with nothing

go out with nothing

as the Fed debt rises ever larger

going off the charts

and we nonchalantly pass it on

to our kids and grand-kids

...

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Hungry eyes

review

the menu

choose barbeque

and not

the tofu

then there's the sides

choices

continue

one plate or two

the only

issue.

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Do not fly

man was not meant to

no man was meant to

be packed into a cylinder like a sardine

even sardines should have leg room

the Boarding Pass allows you time

to sit and think about what you are about to do

allow some person with a cap

to take command of your life

and cram you into a seat designed

for maximum discomfort

next to a fat guy with body odor

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Nothing like the scent

of fresh cut hay

the smell of it

takes breath away

the scent of summer

sun-baked days

sweat equity

in working ways

bales go to barns

get stacked away

they'll come in handy

Winter days

in time it turns to

yellow gray

still its fresh scent

forever stays.

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My wife hates poetry

and also poets

she says they annoy her

and don't make any sense

I try to reason with her

but she says poets

are pompous and full of themselves

I hope she is not basing her beliefs on me

I am certainly not a good example

of a poet

then again maybe that's where

she got the idea from

I can't argue with her though

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Miniature blimps

over fields of buds

bees become drones

with wings abuzz

their body shape

suggests a thud

yet nothing flies

like a bee does.

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Accept this

worn out face

though with creases

it is laced

while age has

left its trace

it's the face

with which I'm graced

this face

so out of date

one can state

is never faked

and while it

isn't great

it's the only face

I make.

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Those

who don't want to tell the truth

or have something to hide

revert to the standard reply

No Comment

to hide their guilt

or their embarrassment

afraid of the press

some nosy reporter asking questions

or some antagonist ready to

rake them over the coals

they elude with the familiar

No Comment

cover their faces and their tracks

and run for...

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Earlier this week

I was on a roll

going strong

sight to behold

then I rolled off

just how who knows

now my roll won't work

and I can't roll

unlike a rolling stone

can't rock and roll

my roll is flat

no get up and go

malaise stole my soul

feeling so low

guess I'll just fold

my roll won't roll.

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Bees are so busy

it's what lets them thrive

their comings and goings

replenish the hive

searching for nectar 

hey, would you believe

sticking their nose in-

the business of bees.

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All these aging Hippies

the flower generation of peace and love

clinging to their scraggly pony tails

like it was still 1969

they think Janis Joplin is still alive

and Woodstock was just yesterday

you see them now in Walmart

there on the Depends aisle

their hair is either gone or gray

their stomachs protruding

their tats faded

along with their jeans

someone...

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I hear young innocents singing

united against fear

they wave Old Glory proudly

to them it's still held dear

Arm and arm against oppression

ever yearning to be free

a choice of insurrection

against gross tyranny

Who will stand beside them

who will choose to dare

face down overt aggression

like those in Tiananmen Square

Were not we alike rebell...

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Notice in today's world

the absence of fathers

women walk around

with their kids in tow

but with no father around

any day of the week

the one missing is the dad

the husband

the partner

so this is what we have come to

hundreds of thousands of one-parent kids

being raised without fathers

with no concept of discipline or responsibility

without a strong exam...

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