Poet, Wordsmith, Author, Writer and Colorfully Variant Thinker. All Rights Reserved.
Alliterations, Cacophony, Consonance, Elisions,
Diction, Homonyms, Hyberboles, Imagery, Irony,
Oxymorons, Prosody, Puns, Metaphors, Rhymes,
Synonyms, Tones, Similes and Smiles.
How can I love you – a cup?
You are reliable. You do the job you said you’d do, keeping my drink icy all day and night.
You are effortless. I wash you like an ordinary cup and easily clutch you in my hand.
You are pretty. Mint green isn’t my usual color, but you calm me.
Born in the 70’s, a teen through the 80’s:
dances, posters, concerts and parties rule
but many many years wage on like war
and then it’s a hip happenin’ 80’s dance party
so I danced like I was a teen again
but alas, my body loses the battle
and I wonder if this new land will recover.
Barbeques, fireworks
parades, star spangles, contests
freedom won at cost.
Conference go-ers
steal all the vegetables
I lack vitamins.
Oh! Viking man of my heart,
how do I love you so hard
still, after all of these years?
Frustrations, separations,
adventures and complications
have all participated
in a marriage grown stronger
as our bodies grow weaker.
I feel like Shakespeare who penned,
“I would not wish anyone but you…”
or like Solomon who sang in his song,
“Your love is more delightful than wine.”
Still, and again after all these years,
I look into your deep blue eyes
and see you there, strong and sturdy,
so I dive in and swim…
until you blink, and the world returns.
Then I feel the loss of you
even though you lie beside me still
and I wonder if I am crazy.
But I’ve been told, we all have
our own little shade of insanity.
Yet the truth remains
that through aging pain
my despair won’t reign
or become a blighted stain
upon my heart.
Your love still rings true,
as does my love for you.
Strange odors drift under my nose
fruity, salty, spicy, greasy –
creating both yearning and revulsion.
Cacophonous noise echoes around me
friends laugh, babies cry, grandma yells
shall I focus on them, or plug my ears?
Toddler bounces on my bench,
football player stamps the floor,
my table, drink and pen shake.
Star-spangled shorts, ribbon-ed dreads,
batman t-shirt, man-bun, sparkly pink shoes
shall I watch or shall I write?
I give up.
Fried rice mixes with acai blueberry water
on my tongue.
I taste fruit, salt, spice and grease, and I smile.
Colors, shapes, pictures line wooden shelves.
Not enough chairs for paying customers,
kick out the loiterer and take his chair.
Is it my fault, just because I bought
a coffee?
Picture cc0 by Pixabay
