Five Shadormas (6-line Spanish poems)

Portland days
warm sunny weather
morning walks
smiling friends
a perfect combination
for enjoying life.

Hotel breakfast
many choices each day
too much food
hard to resist
cups of coffee drunk with friends
after food is gone.

What a treat
to see gigantic
puppets from
Lion King
Michael Curry puppeteer
extraordinaire!

I miss dogs
think of them often
know they're fine
can't help it
long for walks with Tulip and
Violet on lap.

Now we're off
to Portland market
and my quest
for treasure
souvenirs still elude me
this is my best chance.

Today I Left the House Where You Still Are

Today I Left the House Where You Still Are


#1

Today I left the house where you still are.
we've talked, I've listened, we've reasoned.
I've helped as much as I can, have to go now.
In the end it is your life, and I cannot protect
you from the choices you see before you.
I will worry but must trust you'll be all right
for my own good and yours. I will be back.

#2

Today I left the house where you still are
where so much of me remains as well
you both wave and smile in the window
but I know it is hard each time I leave;
I hold back my own tears, struggle to smile
wave long after your image fades away,
fear it could be the last time, wonder if I will
see you again, pray I'll see you another time.

#3

Today I left the house where you still are
it may have been a mistake to come
because I envisioned something different
wished for something better, embraced
the possibility of change. Now I realize
my pictures were unfulfilled hopes
and I'm sad now, stuck with undeniable
reality that really nothing has changed.

Barefoot at Hapuna Beach

Barefoot at Hapuna Beach

Bare feet sink into fine coral sand,
toes touch first, then ball of foot, heel,
sand surrounds, warms them, as they are
embraced by ocean, life, love, everything
good. Sun beats hot. Waves roll in, out,
footprints last only an instant in soft wet sand,
impermanent, unimportant, insignificant
among millions that once were, evidence
of existence erased, as will the imprint
of my life someday be washed away
by waves of passing time, no more relevant
to the world than my footprints in the sand
at Hapuna Beach.

Silence

Silence

Silence is heavy, there are no words.
I elicit conversation, make comments,
discuss the news, television programs,
music, children, work, anything I can think of,
non-threatening, ordinary life, and in response
nothing more than a few words, so I ask
questions, again only a few words,
nothing to grab onto, the ball immediately
back in my court. Silence again.
I give up, turn on the radio, wonder
how there can be so little to say, what
it is like to live in such a silent world.

Let's Play

Let's Play

Let's play
I run
you run
i will catch you
for a moment
we will be free

chase your dreams
enjoy the instant
no worry no care
the days pass fast
you do not yet know
run now.

Not Everyone's Cup of Tea

Not Everyone's Cup of Tea

She is one of a kind. not everyone's cup of tea
is outspoken, tells what she thinks whether
you want to hear it or not. Her energy might
drive you nuts but she keeps at a task
until its completion, can't stand things that don't work,
things that aren't done, dislikes waste of time or
resources, doesn't have to be the best but hates
to be the worst, hates to keep anyone waiting
as much as she dislikes having to wait.
She pours herself into what she does
keeps on track, intolerant of excuses,
an imperfect perfectionist, loyal to a fault
appreciates decisiveness, doesn't miss much
likes to walk, cuts herself no slack, expects
a lot of herself and others, honest rather than
simply kind, her compliment heartfelt, not just words.
She is opinionated, not wishy-washy, sees what you
want to hide, likes you anyway. Not everyone's cup of tea,
but mine.

Death (did not happen!)

Death

Found at the bottom of stairs
twisted body prone, unconscious
surrounded by a pool of blood
from an open scapular wound.

Her death was unexpected
no one knew how or why
she had fallen down steps
in the middle of the night.
where was she heading?
wny? does it matter?

People say at least
there were blessings
she didn't expect to die
died happy as she lived
didn't know what happened
probably was in shock
probably didn't suffer pain
internal wounds invisible
life just abandoned her
to death's silent embrace
she is at peace.

Walk

Walk

You sure walk a lot, the man said.

I stopped with a start, walking,
deep into my afternoon music.
Yes, I said, I do.

I saw you on Alii Drive in the morning.

Yes, I try to walk ten miles a day,
don't always make it.

Last Father's Day I walked twenty-one miles
Just because my daughter and son-in-law
came home from Iraq, safe. I said thank God.

I have a son in law who has been in Iraq twice.
I'm thankful too. I walk half marathons. You?

I never walk any organized events, just walk.
I'm 64, and I can still walk. Praise God.

I'm 62, and I can still walk too.

See you again. God bless.

Cactus

Cactus

I fell in love with a toy fox terrier puppy
the breeder said she never had one
like before. All white with a big
black spot around one of his eyes,
not on her website because
he looked strange. I couldn't get
this little dog out of my mind,
assumed she thought no one
would want this puppy. I thought
about him every day, even had
a boy flower name for him.
Cactus. I knew a third dog
would be crazy, but kept
wondering about the dog labeled
strange-looking. I didn't
want anything bad to happen
to the unusual pup I yearned for.
So I wrote the breeder
inquired about this boy pup,
already Cactus in my mind,
partly hoping someone took him,
mostly hoping no one had.
The letter's answer was
unexpected. The puppy was a girl.
I know it was said to be a boy,
I don't confuse those things,
and it was promised to
the breeder's grandchild.
I was crestfallen, sad there
was never really a Cactus
after all. And I still am.

Avon Lady

Avon Lady

My mother walked neighborhoods
with her large black Avon satchel
filled with lipsticks, cologne, lotions
samples for women to try, beauty
for all, pamphlets with promises.
She knocked on doors, smiled,
braved rejection, next house.
She trudged, bag heavy, smiled,
hoped, sometimes was invited in
with her enchanted bag to enjoy coffee,
conversation, sometimes make a sale.

A good day was the day she made
a sale or better yet two, and she'd
come home happy, spring in her step,
the assurance of a little more cash
in the days money was hard to come by.
Grocery money or new shoes.
Sometimes if I asked her, I could
play with old lipstick samples
pretend to be grown-up, beautiful,
a movie star even, in the days
when my mother who hardly
wore makeup at all sold Avon.

Hard Times

Hard Times

In today's economy,
there is a new kind of thief
middle - aged women who steal
plastic flowers, bows, styrofoam
from graves at Holy Sepulcher Cemetery
times must be tough, so tough
the cemetery, trying to be kind,
told the crafting thieves dashing
from gravestones to getaway cars
arms full of precious plastic wares
they are welcome to take from trash bins
not from graves to make desired decorations
next time I visit a craft show I'll ponder
the origin of the plastic flower displays
sold by sellers with smiles of innocence
picture stealthy clandestine women
who rob graves, ruthless determined crafters
hard times indeed, and pass.