Something the photographer said about animals.
We are much more unpredictable to them
than they are to us.
We could shoot them, pet them,
kick them up the butt, out the door.
Perhaps that’s why this rescue cat eyes me
sleeps with one eye open
flinches when another male approaches.
Lola’s in her basket.
Tiffany’s in her tank.
I wouldn’t want to sleep
out. It is cold and dank.
Soph is in her frame
that sits upon the wall.
She is twenty eight forever
and loves us all.
The food lives in the bread bin,
the pantry and the fridge.
It is there to succour us
that we all may live
I Had Already Written That
I’m on my back doing yoga when I notice how dusty the floor is
and I think about writing a poem to sweep it up before
the cleaner gets here but I’ve already written that ; perhaps then
a poem, a funny one, about ants doing yoga when I realize
I’ve written about that too; Tanya’s poem about
‘sorrow and joy being ‘two strokes of life’s art’ set me thinking
about Joy and Sorrow both having wings, which I’d already covered
in ‘The Green Gazebo’ which my followers have sat in too many times..
Physios, podiatrists, personal trainers. Tick. Tick. Tick.
That’s the trouble with being prolific: you’re left with nowhere to go.
Twenty cat poems, a handful of haiku on gnats, dragonflies and dogs,
one about mirrors I’ll never better. A quiver of poems about Cupid’s arrows,
the mayhem and mischief they cause. Enough parables to fill a book.
Whatever Life throws at me and doesn’t kill me, I can write about.
There must be something new coming down the pike.
The Pink Comb
in my back pocket.
My one concession to pink.
Still, I was amazed
in an article on Harris Reed,
the 25 year old designer,
that in the 18th century, pink
was stylish for men and women
as was lace,
a marker not of effeminacy
but of affluence & taste.
Although I am not rabidly masculine,
I like manly cuts and colours
Still I;m fond of my pink comb.
O, and I like Kylie too.
See Ya !
I hope old Schooner’s all right.
He looked a little cranky last time.
He knew something was coming down the pike.
Birds know. They have a crystal ball.
They foresee earthquakes, tsunamis.
He must have foreseen the sale of the pub
& the old drive-thru that housed his Taj Mahal
of a cage where he held court. Customers
would stop by for a chat and when they were done
he would rasp in his Tom Waits voice, See Ya!
I liked his magisterial presence. I hope he’s okay
wherever he is. Each Friday at the pub I raise a glass
To old Schooner. Here’s to you! I say. Stay cocky, dude.
who practice civility
a castle you can row out to
no messy emotions
no urge to outdo
a castle with a billy goat
nestled in a sea
of robin egg blue.
pic courtesy of Pinterest
People walking up and down ,
walking off their sore heads from the night before,
mothers with their daughters, mothers with no one,
people locked on their mobiles,
missing the jaunty waves,
the graffiti of gull talk
and that gorgeous fluffy white spitz from McLaren Vale walking his owner
what’s his name? I ask.
Her, he corrects me. Evie.
Ahh I say after the song.
That’s right, he says. Evie, Parts 1,2 and 3.
And we give each other the thumbs up —
not many people know that —
& could start reminiscing when we saw Little Stevie & the Easybeats
but Evie is keen to get moving
just like Little Stevie who couldn’t keep still;
And above us, because
there’s a strong breeze,
there’s wind surfers flying around
like a dazzle of butterflies,
Blue Pastures of the Sky
I worry about you like you worried about Chloe
the day I never brought her home from the vet;
Would she be happy in Heaven?
Would someone throw the ball for her?
Take her for long walks across the blue pastures
Of the sky?
But I can’t rescue you from adulthood.
All I can do is cheer you from the sidelines
like I used to do in Nationals
Wish you fangs and claws to fight off the trolls,
The sting of the scorpion
A heart as fierce as Balerion, the dragon
From Game of Thrones,
But peaceful and playful as Puff, that magic dragon
- pic by ilse orsel from Unsplash.com
This is Max.
He’s a happy lab.
Bathed in love.
Now he’s bathed
A dog wash.
slouches in a beanbag
Max is in the moment.