Already Plucked From The Poetry Patch

Already Plucked
From
The Poetry Patch

INDEPENDENCE

This land is mine,
this land mine's mine --
I found it in the street.

How lucky for me.
I continue to be.

I hobble, wobble,
stand
on my own new feet.

H-M-M

A careless god,
undressing in dark water,
softens the light
seducing me tonight.
He too
is old,
cold,
laughing.

A LIAR'S ALLURE

I do reckon
what's been reekin'--
this big lack of truth you're speakin'.

Just one simple,
dimpled sample
gives the average listener ample

cause to worry--
how right were we?
Are you always in a hurry,

utterer of utter folly?
Betcha simply
can't, by golly,

be straightforward
with your passes
as you aim to fool the masses.

Honesty, a noble beacon,
shines right through
the fog you're wreakin',

claims the truth is well worth seekin'...
but I reckon
we can weaken.

A SHELTERED EXISTENCE

I swear
upon all that is holy,
I'm glad
I have nothing to fear.

How empty--how empty!--
this house is,
when I am
the only one here.

CREDIBLE, EDIBLE FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Make sure what you eat is sweet
and life-sustaining...I repeat:
Make sure
what you eat's discreet!

IT'S MY FLAVOR-RIGHT SCENT

More than a scent,
it's a flavor to savor --
a bean split wide open,
a choice when you waver
'tween choc'late,
peppermint,
lemon's meringue.
Whichever hat
you now choose to hang
on your well-shampooed head,
rest assured, it is there.
This swell tell-tale smell
is found everywhere:
in shampoos and yogurts,
in pricey colognes,
in aloed-up lotions,
in kids' ice cream cones.
It's even detected
in candles and cocoa.
It gets used in ways
that might seem a bit loco.
Much more than a scent,
it's a flavor to savor --
a bean split wide open
for those who might crave 'er!

Va-va-va-nil-il-il-il-a!

WE ALL HAVE PLENTY, REALLY

When insufficient funds
inspire worry,
this fact you can
rely upon, my friend --

even when you truly
hit rock's bottom,
you still will have
eternity to spend.

At 50, IT'S TIME TO FORGET A FEW THINGS
(Dedicated to John F. Fierstien IV on July 12, 2003)

Johnny Boy,
how are you doing?
Please don't tell me
you're still ruing
what you did to Sis's clock
so long ago...

It's agreed
you did not mean to
be destructive --
why so keen to
flog yourself
without compassion?
That is so

unproductive, unbecoming.
Father Time is out there humming,
waiting patiently for you
to--well, you know...

Say you gave it
your best try,
and we'll kiss your youth
"Good-bye!"
with a zest akin
to kissing sweet "Hello!"

Half the fun of fully livin'
comes in knowing
you're forgiven
by Someone
who cannot bear
to let you go.