MARBLE WATER

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COMPOSURE

                      I’ve grown especially meticulous
                      With all my varied daily regimens
                      And wonder if it’s not ridiculous
                      And whither such compelled behavior tends.

                      But then I think that’s simply how I cope
                      With all the copious choices life presents,
                      And regimented modes are my best hope
                      For making out of daily chaos sense.

                     So that is why I use this patterned mode
                     Of poetry instead of verse that’s free:
                     To fashion well a sonnet or an ode
                     Is captivating more than liberty.

                         For life is best when carefully composed,
                         Just as a sonnet is when neatly closed.

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A BAD HAND

                    The Presidential vote’s but days away
                    With Trump and Clinton now in a dead heat,
                    And no one’s eager for election day,
                    Most wishing someone else would claim the seat.

                    These two contenders have revealed their flaws,
                    Making us eager for another slate,
                    If only such a way were in our laws,
                    So we might have a President who’s great.

                    When world events arrive that overwhelm
                    Stability and sanity and threaten all,
                    We need someone of stature at the helm,
                    Not one whose ego’s destined for a fall.

                         If only we’d a Franklin Roosevelt,
                         Instead of this bad hand that we’ve been dealt.

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EVALUATING CANDIDATES

                      The motive to be powerful is one
                      An upright politician ought to shun;
                      Instead, one’s obligation is to serve
                      With patience, skill, integrity and verve.

                     And yet, too often, ego is in charge,
                     Which typically in candidates is large,
                     And being top dog in a nasty pack
                     Means victory goes to those who best attack.

                     Let’s pray for one who’ll rise above the fray
                     And whose integrity will save the day
                     Employing what we all should realize—
                     The attitudes and skills of being wise.

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REVELATION

                        O, wonder, wonder, wonder, wonder, wonder!
                        When suddenly the marvels of this world
                        In mystic revelation are unfurled—
                        Lifting the veil we all have suffered under,
                        And finally our inner eyes can see
                        A blissful vision of Eternity!

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BATH DAY

                    While little Tiggy gets the kitchen sink
                    In which to bathe when she begins to stink,
                    Big Gypsy's lifted in the bathroom tub
                    Reluctantly for her bi-monthly scrub.
                    Once rinsed and set back on the toweled floor,
                    They shake and make a shower I deplore
                    Splattering both me and cabinetry
                    Until they’re toweled enough to be set free.
                    And then it’s time to take a sunny walk
                    Diverting them with squirrels and cats to stalk
                    So by the time we’ve squared off several blocks
                    Rousting frogs and stalking pigeon flocks
                    They’re dry and clean and fragrant-fresh again—
                    Pray, keep them out of mud, dear God, amen.

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UNINSPIRED

                    Hard-handed men with hammers bang on nails
                    Atop a roof they’re building blocks away
                    Beside whose effort my poor labor pales
                    As I sit in this easy chair and play,
                    Devising lines of cadences and rhymes
                    To build another moment’s monument,
                    A chronicle of sedentary times
                    Inspired by visions sometimes heaven sent—
                    More often, though, pedestrian, like this
                    Tee-tum, tee-tum, a morning walkabout
                    Devised by ingenuity, not bliss,
                    Hack work with little artistry to tout.
                         It seems those carpenters are on a break,
                         So, I’ll shut up myself, for heaven’s sake.

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