Potpourri Babycakes

The mish now buried in the mash,

the dog caught rooting through the trash

 

With litter scattered far and wide,

the pieces gather, the Cheshire hides

 

All lollygaggers out in front,

those last now first, a noble stunt

 

The blend what’s vital, layers bake,

Choo Choo Mamma—Potpourri Babycakes

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

…written while listening to ‘Come Together’

by the Beatles

 

 

The Moon Bows

 

The aging artist has a trait,

those short on sight can’t bear

 

All normal signs of waning,

a crown now his to wear

 

Wrinkles and sparse graying hair,

still negative to some

 

But when they light upon a Sage,

—the moon bows to the sun

 

(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)

 

 

 

Still To Run

 

Your page now short on substance,

yet colorful the rhyme

 

The words used in abundance,

where lesser might define

 

Intention slave to beauty,

all meaning zero sum

 

Pageantry lost in the wind,

—your blood left still to run

 

(Grantham New Hampshire: February, 2017)