Wednesday, April 13, 2022

Life is made up of small things

 April 13, 2022

A scientific (or is it unscientific) observation:
Life shouldn’t be lived under a microscope.

Life is made up of small things.
Specks of dust
join together to make a thin layer of white on a dark wood table.
Drops of pollen
form a yellow coating on the hood of a car.
Steps become a journey.
Decisions lead to more decisions.
Small lies lead to bigger lies.
One small quirk of the lips can become a conversation,
a lifetime of happiness.
Life is made up of small things,
And the realization that small things,
maybe aren’t as small as they appear to be
at the time we first notice their existence.

Atoms, cells, physical beings,
Human, animal, plant.
Small things become bigger things,
Become bigger, more complex things,
Ad infinitum.

Coffee Cake Commotion

 April 11, 2022

“I don’t see the coffee cake”
“Sorry, we just sold the last piece,”
Indistinguishable grumbled words,
as he turns around and walks out,
While the women at the counter is saying,
“Hope you have a good day.”
A disappointed regular customer,
who was craving starting his week with 
his usual coffee cake?
He should have considered the scone.
Espresso chip,
And, hey,
You’re at a coffee shop
and you don’t want something
to drink?
Monday morning surprises
can be difficult
to digest.

Some Things I Write

April 8, 2022

Some things I write
are too personal
to share.

Some things I write
reveal more of me
than I would like people to see.

Some things I write
Confirm what I need to confirm.
question what I need to question.
Affirm who I am at this moment.
Provide a means to clear my mind,
Vent, cry, laugh.

Some things I write
are written
just for me.

Some things I write
I will never read.

Some things I write
I later turn into a song.
And every time I sing it
a piece of my heart
heals and rejoices.

Some things I write
Come out fully formed.
It’s like the the words were waiting
For the right time and place
To escape from my head
Fully constructed,
No editing necessary.

Some things I write,
I share,
And sometimes someone says,
Me, too.
That always feels good,
like I’m not alone,
like that’s a reason to write.
But not the only reason.

Some things
I write,
Some things
write me.

Friday, April 8, 2022

Eavesdropping on a mom rant

Patio table at a coffee shop. Not much foot traffic on the sidewalk. 

A couple decided to sit at the next table, even though there is an 

empty one a little further over. The woman had a few things she 

needed to say. Loudly.

Ranting mom and listening dad

She cries the blues

If you're going to be crying the blues about money

And i don’t believe her for a minute.

She does buy clothes

She’s so full of crap.

I think the thing that pisses me off 

Is she lies.

She needs new tires

And pisses and moans about that

But she buys a new iphone.

She says she doesn’t do anything.

I knew she was going to say that

Well then why did you call me.

She always has to have the best of everything.

She can’t stomach less.

She will not

She can’t be content with what she’s got.

She got a new phone.

Did she try to fix the other one.

Of course not.

She says she had the phone for seven years.

That is such bullshit.

I hate liars.

Don’t lie to me.

She says she’s saving money for the trip.


Dad’s voice is calmer.

He agrees


She winds it down

Time to concentrate on their card game.

She apologizes.

They play their game.

Five minutes later.

When she goes to Minneapolis in June

If she thinks I’m taking her to the airport

She’s crazy.

Fire truck went by sirens blaring

Mom starts in again.

I’m not driving your ass all the way to Phoenix

That’s your problem.

Why am I eavesdropping on this conversation?
Because she is so loud I can’t help myself.

I have no idea what dad is saying. 

And she’s starting on it again.

Dad chuckles.

Dad compliments a passing dog’s color

The dog’s owner says it’s brown merle.

Back to the card game.

Short rant is over.

A couple of motorcycles rev as they drive by.

Silence on the patio

Except for the cards.

They shuffled the cards

And mom started again.

Now dad is talking about financial advisors

General Mills, shuffle,

And it’s like getting a raise every two years,


They raise their dividend.

It’s changed.

Same crap over and over and over.

She needs a financial advisor to get her something for long term income.

At least the conversation sounds constructive

Rather than destructive noe.


Mom responds.


With what she’s making she should have

At this point I shouldn’t care what the daughter should have,

So why can’t I tune this conversation out?

The things that she buys is so stupid.

Sirens coming this way now.

They turned as dad stood up to look,

An ambulance and a county vehicle.

Silent except for the cards

And passing cars.


She’s got to get her shit together.


She does what she wants to do.


I’ve always let her slack.

But she made choices.

Completely jackass for ten years.


I need to either leave or figure out how to 

Tune this negative conversation out.

It’s a beautiful day

Which I was enjoying

Until i got sucked into eavesdropping on mad mom.

She’s made one idiotic decision after another.


I’ve listened to enough!

Time to leave.

I’m not done with my project but I made enough progress

That I can close my laptop

And leave this woman to her kvetching and whining.

I don’t need to be in her sphere of negativity any longer.

Even though it was a bit amusing and intriguing, 

for a while.

Bye bye mom.

Bye bye dad.

Bye bye red metal chair and round red metal table.

See you next time chair and table,

Hopefully won’t see you again, mom and dad.

New Routine

Not sure how I feel about this one. I thought it would be short. Too many words, I think. 

Probably too much information. That's what editing is for. We'll call this a first draft. 

New Routine - First Draft

Falling into a routine, of sorts,

When I’m home.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday mornings

Hike, with a group or on my own. 

Maybe sit and write  at a coffee shop after,

Do some grocery shopping and other errands.

Wednesday is usually the long hike.

Monday, sleep in a little, work out or neighborhood walk

Friday, attend the beginner  ukulele class at the library

Saturday, group hike, farmers market, hang out downtown.

Sunday, wild card.

First Thursday night is ukulele club

Now I know that every Tuesday there’s a jam at 11,

Which I can get to because it’s close to where the group hikes.

Saturdays at 5, I can now listen to live music at Cuppers,

One of my coffee shops.

Third Sunday is the coffeehouse music series at the library.

Get home each day and open the curtains.

This time of year, leave the window open day and night.


Sleep, eat, hike, walk, write, play music, listen to music,

Read, attend book club online,

Get out, get comfortable, get seen,

Try to remember names,

Look people in the eye,

Act like i know how to be social

Like a functioning human,


Pick and choose what to do 

Based on me, only me.

Push myself physically when I want to

Push myself socially when I want to

Live life on my terms.

Mainly live life as best I can

Live life for me.


Tuesday, April 5, 2022

The Old Fashioned Way

I've been having some wifi and phone issues when trying to write, which has led me to write in a notebook again.

I think the old fashioned way needs to be my new way.

Back to how it began.

Back to ink on paper.

Notebooks partially filled.

Receipts, napkins, envelopes, scraps of paper,

Whatever I could find

To write my soul on.

Observations, snatches of conversation, wishes and dreams,

Beat myself down,

Talk myself up.

Often written so fast and small

That it was hard to read.

My hand cramping,

Ink smudging,

As I tried to keep up with the thoughts pouring out of my head and heart.


Like my room, like my life,

Like everything I couldn’t make sense of.

Ink and paper,

Words and phrases.

I wrote without thinking

I wrote with thinking

Write, sit, write, think.

Write and think, write, write, write,

And maybe grow up a little as the pages turn,

Maybe feel a little lighter

After emptying the weight of the words from an overworked brain.

Maybe feel a sense of accomplishment

At seeing a page which started the day empty

Now is full enough to show


Three Days

Reflections on a music festival and a day full of walking.
Three days of music, sweet music,
Three days of making new friends,
Three days of listening, talking, observing, absorbing.
Three days,
Three beautiful glorious days,
Followed by a solitary day,
Walking, exploring, 
Enjoying sun, blue skies, fresh air, 
No time constraints.
Three glorious, joyful, musical days,
Followed by a beautiful day filled with
Murals, storefronts, sites and sounds of a new city.
Now it’s time
To let my senses relax,
Let the memories
And drip
into poetry and song.
Three days of music.
One day of art and wandering.
Days and nights of creative sparks
Lighting the way


Friday, April 1, 2022

For Goodness' Sake

For goodness sake

Writing an F Poem,

Not an effing poem,

A poem with a title that begins with the letter F.

For goodness sake,

Came to mind,

Not a phrase I hear very often

I see it in books,

For fuck’s sake seem to be its replacement.

The F bomb is no longer explosive.

It's used as an adjective, adverb, 

And sometimes as a verb or noun,

As in the original meaning.

I suppose 

It’s related to goodness

Depending on your relationship status

And current outlook on life.

For goodness sake,

This poem certainly meandered

Are you surprised or annoyed?

How interesting that one phrase

Can have two meanings

That don't necessarily jive.

Well, goodness me,

Words certainly are a blessing,

Aren't they.