Avocados

Groggily leering at a bowl of avocados

each labeled individually

of their own accord—

speaking through 

my morning haze, 

“Why do they label each fruit

individually? What are you

supposed to do with the stickers?”

I think drearily

of apple stickers 

stuck upon counters,

walls, wherever,

and how my wife 

thought it stupid

that they would let 

their children defile

the habitation that now

temporarily became ours.

“How do you know it was

the kids?” I asked,

thinking of how I’d never

seen our children eat apples without first 

being sliced individually.

And Ron has never even 

taken time to remove the sticker,

just biting into the apple

devouring peel, paper and all.

But that’s apples 

and these are avocados

and you never eat the peel 

of an avocado

so it can just compost itself 

away as if being swallowed

whole by a man

who is indifferent to stickers

of red delicious gala

golden delicious cosmic crisp

jonathan counter top

chair floor avocado

worms grass beetles…

And my morning thoughts 

slip drearily into breakfast

and apple slices and

avocado toast and compost

and men and women and children

and furniture and

aren’t those avocados arranged beautifully?

March 2021

About This Poem

This is a poem that roams into the world of stream of consciousness based upon a bowl of avocados and what they made me think of. Life can seem so random and things from nowhere can make you think of the strangest memories or projections. This poem is an example of that. I'm sorry I had to use a fruit stand shot, but apparently I don't take photos of avocados, in spite of the thoughts they inspire in me.  

 

Poem: Garden Jealousies

Garden Jealousies

I sometimes wonder

If the grass in the yard grows jealous

Of little alyssum in all its blooming glory?

Or if alyssum thinks how grand

It would be to live ceramically

In a pot, or if it would somehow be

Better to be a rose, coming back 

Every year without even worrying

How much he’d bloomed?

Maybe the rose just wished

To be that pumpkin sat

On the porch all jack-o-lanterned out

‘Neath all the falling leaves,

Or little green bean

Picked faithfully and cooked

For a family of four

Or maybe more.

Maybe they all envy

Sunflower, shining in the sun

Beckoning the bees

Hanging on until the freeze.

Clematis clings jealously

To the Trellis—

Or is it just me that is jealous?

October 2022

About This Poem

It's gardening season, so this poem struck me when I was rereading some of the many poems I have written. Certainly one can be envious of the vegetable when stressed by things human? This poem is about that.

 

Poem: Beautiful Melancholy

Beautiful Melancholy

 Beautiful melancholy that I love,

Spreading darkness on the day,

Bringing rain from far away;

Take me to earth’s turbulent shores,

Take my mourning and make it yours.

 

Coolness of spring

Spread icy with rain

Bringing floods and causing pain,

Take me to earth’s turbulent shores,

Take my suffering and make it yours.

 

With the wonderment of agony, I see

Contorted bodies writhing painfully.

Sun so bright in the distance shine.

Take me from earth’s turbulent shores,

Take my agony and make it yours.

 

Light so bright

Nailed to a tree

Rent the veil

And transfigured me.

 

February 1983

About This Poem

This one is from the archives, for sure. I can't remember the inspiration, but it clearly fits into my poetry on faith and weather. It's mine, so I see things I could tweak. But I'll leave it as is for now. If the date is right, I wrote this during my Junior year in college. Some of the poem is probably just the angst of a young man, but some is probably the turmoil and deaths I had experienced and recalling it on a bleak day. I have a lot of really bad poetry from that time, so this one seems a little refreshing in comparison. :)

 

 

Poem: Autumn Caught Him Quite Off Guard

Autumn Caught Him Quite Off Guard

 

Autumn caught him quite off guard

Tumbling bright leaves to the ground

When he hadn’t harvested the last grapes

So he went for one last swim

In the eve of September.

 

Drops sparkled down his body

As he came up from the bay

Dripping with the desire of a boy

Soon frozen by winter’s rage

That in spring he had forgotten.

 

November 2021

About This Poem

Maybe not quite a weather poem, but a poem about seasons. In this case it is a parallel of the seasons of the year and the seasons of life. I am often still surprised that I'm already into my sixties, so autumn has caught me off guard. That being said, I still find fall to be one of the best times of year because you can still take advantage of elements of summer while enjoying new colors and cooler temperatures. Things seem to slow down. That's definitely true of life as well. So being caught off guard isn't necessarily a bad thing. The photograph is of a cottonwood tree in October on the Plaza in Santa Fe, New Mexico last fall.

 

Poem: August Prayer

August Prayer

 

Thank you, Lord, for this day,

A day in which I’ll have lots to say.

What, in your plan, needs to make it so hot?

Not gonna lie, I think it’s a lot of rot.

 

I know it’s not really my place

To complain of the heat in your grace,

But you even named Jacob

“Wrestles with God,” and hot it is, God.

 

But maybe that is part of your plan

Because in this heat I do sweat, man.

Not likely to get me wrestling well

When I’m slick as grease. Oh hell,

 

You make it just as hot as you please

And I’ll figure a way to cool a spot. Geeze.

I know you care for the sparrow that falls

And in this heat, you got a lot of gall

 

To make so many of those little ones fall

And my morning whining is just my call.

Thank you for September when it cools

And you don’t have to hear this whining fool.

 

August 2022

About This Poem

This is another weather poem, taking into account my faith background. It probably sounds offensive to some, but I think true faith questions God even about simple things. This is a, perhaps, flippant example of that. Faith doesn't always have to be serious and neither does poetry.

 

Poem: Something About the Bright Blue Sky

Something about the bright blue sky

makes you forget all the gray,

the rain and pain of aches.

Just view the dappled leaves

of greens, reds, and yellows

against that sapphire blue sky.

Who knew of the cold gray

that went into the making

of all that joy

shimmering back at me

in the pond?

 October 2021

 

About This Poem 

This is another weather poem. It's probably most influenced by the ideas of imagism. It provides an image and makes me think about myself, and the fact that I could ever be depressed. 

 

Poem: Frost Covers the Cornstalks

Frost Covers the Cornstalks

Frost covers the cornstalks

Shivers shocks to the ground;

Ice covers all the walks

Where all were wont to be bound.

Colored leaves of yellow

Begin patterning grass

In myriad winnows

That were in the trees last

Night and now rimed with ice

In the yard. How quickly

Summer fades to this nice

Transition that soon grimly

Brings the bitter snowy

Cold. Just yesterday I

Was playing, now suddenly

I’m old. But here awhile

I’ll linger ‘midst colors bold

To hold in frozen tableau

My memories of old.

I still can move a bit

And, careful on this ice,

The mem’ries with wit

Arranged on grass so nice

As if still suspended

In the trees.

October 2018

About This Poem

Weather is often an inspiration for my poetry and this is an example of that. Clearly autumn works as a symbol of aging and that's the case in this poem. I also just love the fall, so I have decided I need to embrace aging as well.