Are you seeking security or adventure?
I write, and when I write
I split my infinitive always
All ways, just because and
Just because I can. When
I write, I write as I please.
Do I seek adventure? Yes,
Please. Am I secure that a
Split infinitive will please
You? No, I am not. I can't
Tell what's in your mind,
Or if you will forgive my
Slip from grammar. Come
Join me on my adventure.
Hope it pleases you, too.
If you could host a dinner and anyone you invite was sure to come, who would you invite?
You are invited to a grand fete.
Ok, a grandly pretentious one.
Bring the wine. Bring the hors
D'. Bring your spouse, and maybe
Your mother. Dinner will be at
Nine, but let's gather at seven
For cocktails and chit-chat and
So we can designate seating. It
Is a complicated affair. The Mc
Coys won't sit with the Capulets.
The Hatfields decline to dine
At the upper table with their
Arch enemies. Er, frenemies, I
Guess. Everyone will wear tails
And white tie. Lots of top hats
Will top heads. The ladies will
Shine in designer gowns from
RueLala, oolala, and Loehmans.
What do you think gets better with age?
You are old said the child
Pointing to my wrinkles.
His mama said with great
Predictably, it's not polite
But he pointed out what I
Could see and knew. Not a
Newsflash that time had a
Way of passing. It had been
Lots of years since I wasn't
Wrinkled and more since I
Was as young as he. He was
Wise, but so was I. Wise to
See and wise to point out
The truth. I was wise, too.
You see, I knew I was old.
When I wander, where will
I wander? Will I go east to
The river and into Queens?
Or that island adjacent and
Yet so far, so foreign and so
Very unexplored? When I go
Will I head west heeding the
Cry? Go. Go west and see an
Altogether other perspective.
Not your usual all nearby and
Familiar, like the trip you've
Made each day. Our west has
No plains or mountains but
It is an eye-opener. You are
Not here every day so you
Will see more. You will see
More clearly when you see.
The changes and the same
Are not what they were when
Last you wandered here, now.
What is the measure of a man?
Is it his worst or best behaviors?
Does he have to rise to better or
Can he fall to his lowest point?
Measure him by size, his weight
His girth, his height, the peak of
His hat. See if he must duck at
The doorway or bow at his knee.
Who shall judge him and why?
Taller than an oak, or more
Crooked than a tree trunk makes
No matter. Sharper, wittier or
Foolish or kind. Measure him
Inch by inch by intention and
By design. Let his measure be
Reflected in your love and care.
The light blared overhead
As loud as a fog horn, as
Intrusive as sunshine in the
Clouds. A single bulb but raw
As a wound in the ceiling, its
Intensity sharpening into a
Deep glare of brightness
Just out of reach in that slim
Room of a sensible time to
Enter or dance, it was all at
Once too much and not enough
I will write the lyrics
To your melody, your
Song will become ours,
Your composition lifts
My words. We create a
Harmony, together, it's
Words and music when
You add the music and
I offer words. Now it can
Be sung. It has a voice. I
Will write the lyrics. You
Will turn it into the song
You can feel the weight
Of the air, its hot breath
On your elbow, on your
Knee. Its heavy pressure
Slows every step you take.
Even your mind objects
To a physical oppression
So early in your day. Act
As if you could shake it
Off. Take your walk back.
It's only air and you have
Your own atmosphere. It
Is where you thrive, live,
Love. The weight of the
Heat is nothing to the
Power in your heart, in
Your head. You, you're
Cool. Like the proverbial
Ice cube, like a cucumber.
It must be the rhyme that is
Keeping them out, Belarus
Isn't in the alliance but all
The 'stans are. You can call
Out each. It's Kazakhstan
Uzbekistan, and Pakistan
Kyrgyzstan, too. Even Iran
Quite the group. Sing it--
Like a song. This is a hit.
India then China, Russia,
Start a rhyme. No Crimea
"Pakistan... Uzbekistan...
Kazakhstan...Kyrgyzstan
Don't forget Iran-is-stan."
Thank you, Bill, for telling
Me that I forgot Tajikistan.
The best is yet to come to those
Who wait to see what the future
Will bring and where the road'll
Lead. I expect great things will
Await when you've waited and
You've seen. There's no measure
Of good that won't land on your
Plate. You've waited and stand
To get back what the wind blows
Back. Your heart is full; it's pure.
With all you've got, you'll get more
And more there'll be for you still
When you wait, see what's coming.
Tamara, really