Poems of a Different Color and Flowers Because I Took the Pictures

My faithful, regular readers are going to wonder what I am doing writing a comment at the top of the page. Well, today, I am providing a couple poems that do not go along with the "Nature" theme that I have employed since my good and gentle readers asked me to follow that theme about-what--six or eight months ago? Since these poems do not go along with the theme, I wanted to explain why.

You know, sometimes, inspiration is hard to come by. Different sensations inspire different feelings, and upon reflection and consideration, what I see, hear, or experience becomes a poem or verse that I can revise into a poem. Sometimes, to parody a quote from a slightly great author, inspiration comes in battalions and, sometimes, as single spies--and, sometimes, hardly at all. When there is no inspiration, that does not mean that I do not write. It means that I have to find something to revise. As regular readers will know, I now have four published books of poetry filled with former inspiration and reflection fairly begging me to be revised. The following poems are the result of flipping to certain pages in The Purple and Blue Collection of Poems and simply revising whatever words are on the page to which I flip. If I stop on part of a poem, I revise only what is on the page. Damn, the rest of the poem! If it is an entire poem, I change it enough that it is unrecognizable from the original. Well, not unrecognizable! I could probably point the poem and the revisions out to you.

These poems are about serious things and, while song-like still, address some topics that may seem a bit uncomfortable if you have gotten use to the rather fuzzy sentimentality of the nature songs. If you have any questions, please ask.

The pictures accompanying today's post were all taken in my yard. One is a tiny, tiny purple flower that I found in the grass out by the shop, one is a bloom on my Rose of Sharon, and the other is a bloom on a vine that was in a planter. We took the vine out of the planter, plopped it into a flower bed, and somehow, it continues to thrive. ENJOY IT ALL!

A Drunk Gives up Beer for Good

My gold and bubbly liquid friend,

My head hums with incoherence

and unwise reckoning.

Your foam lathers my lips again.

Though I am no lotus eater,

I sense sleep beckoning.

But someone has refilled my mug.

So, on your frothy head, I slurp,

Lean back, and sigh at ease.

Excuse me for the burp.

But what’s this now?

Inside my buzzing brow,

Troubled dreams and memories

Crowd at me, garbled, filthy, penned.

It’s like I’ve suckled at a sow

And lie among grunting creatures.

My gold and bubbly former friend,

One of your worthiest features

Was cursory forgetfulness.

Since that is gone, I guess

Our long acquaintance too must end.

Now, I’m not made of fickle clay,

Nor am I quite as cheap,

But I must find a quicker way

To drink myself to sleep.

Religion, My Inharmonious Friend

My inharmonious friend

Plucking strings of discord,

Winding a song upon itself—

A hymn that marks an end

But never changes a word

Like a bookrest on a shelf—

Can you only sing of death?

My inharmonious friend

Tapping a beat on a hollow head—

Tick-tock, tick-tock, it’s a clock

Whose rhythm gets in the blood—

Wrapping melody with the dead,

Ending choruses in shock

Followed by a roaring flood

Of Silence then “Amen!”

Can you only sing of death?

My inharmonious friend,

Spinning a reel of madcap laughter

Cut off in a choking breath,

Will you save a dance hereafter?

Will you only dance with Death?