Dog Heaven: A Sonnet

The other day I placed a call to Mike

I asked him how it was up there in Heaven

He said he’d found so many things to like

He’s fallen for a Schnauzer who's named Bevin

His brother Duffy then got on the phone 

Heaven’s proving swell for Duffy too

Each morning he awakes to find a bone 

Plus shoes and glasses and other stuff to chew

I mourn the dogs’ departure every day 

They were the very keystone of my life 

It helps a tiny bit with my dismay

To tell myself they’re fine in afterlife 

I’m sad I’ll never have a dog again

Perhaps that’s why I dream of times back then

NOLA Family Pets: Iko, Little Paws, and Cody

Our NOLA family’s been growing 

First Iko, a doggie, became their new pet

Next he was joined by puppy Little Paws

Then Cody the kitten, perhaps the cutest yet 

Iko in his youth was a mutt of the streets

Eking out a living on Tulane Ave

Kiersta found him and brought him home

To a life no one dreamed he might have 

Iko is mainly a smallish-sized Schnauzer

Maybe nine, maybe ten inches high

He’s got a glistening coat that is silvery-gray

And a sparkling glint in his eye

Any noise on the step, Iko races to the door

Eager to greet whoever comes in

He stretches up their legs with his busy front paws

Checking the odors from places they’ve been 

Everyone agrees that Iko’s a cuddler

Joining his humans on the sofa or chair

He lays right down with his head on their lap

Contented and happy with a life that’s so fair

From dawn till midnight Iko’s ready for a walk

Pulling at first, then sniffing this and that

He stares at the people a full block away

And his tail starts wagging when he spots a black cat 

Little Paws arrived just two years ago

Vida picked him out from an online ad

He travelled from Georgia on a jumbo jet

Little Paws met Iko, he was so glad

Little Paws is just like Iko’s younger brother

Following Iko wherever he goes

When Iko smells  some weeds, Little Paws smells them too

They stay side by side when they lie down to doze 

Everyone in the neighborhood thinks Little Paws a cutie-pie

One half Yorkie, the other half Chin

Even though he is smaller than Iko

It’s easy to imagine him Iko’s twin

Like Iko, Little Paws loves going on walks

He strains on his leash as if out on a mission

Yelping at bad guys across the street

And watching the big dogs with a healthy suspicion

This little dog has his own Teddy Bear

Which he bring to the grownups to play tug of war

Last week Little Paws tugged Teddy too hard

Poor Teddy’s innards, all over the floor

Little Paws is also a talented jumper

Leaping three feet to get up on the bed

This dog has the energy of an Eveready bunny

No one thinks Little Paws a sleepyhead

Now there’s a kitten named Cody in the house

Five or six pounds with fur that’s jet black

Cody seems to think that he is a dog

And his brothers have made him a part of the pack

Cats and dogs are quite different of course

Cody has more of an independent streak

Even so he’ll come over and rub on your leg

And his purr has a special kitten mystique

At mealtime Cody sneaks onto the table

Justin grabs him and puts him back down

Then Cody’s back up again searching for snacks

He may be a cat but he’s also a clown

Cody loves to wrestle with Little Paws

Though the dog is the mightier of the two

Neither Little Paws or Iko would ever hurt Cody

The dogs and the cat are best friends, so true blue

Leo and Vida are pals with their pets

Vida’s been thinking of being a vet one day

The children, the dogs, the cat — one big bunch 

A house that is teeming with whoopee and play 

The Golden Years

I always heard these are the Golden Years

Though just when they start I’m not sure

Nobody mentioned they bring on new fears  

Like irksome inflictions for which there’s no cure 

I shouldn’t complain because I’m quite well 

Though I’ve worried about death since age seven 

My mother once told me I’m destined for Hell

Even worse, there’s no space left in Heaven

What’s best about my Golden Years up to now 

Monday mornings, I don’t go to work 

Having no job seemed a most dismal fate

But then it became life’s best perk 

I’m happy my Golden Years all fit in one sonnet

The credit must go to the bees in my bonnet

A Halloween Sonnet

All Hallows’ Eve, so much mystery 

Black cats and witches and objects of dread

Some six thousand years of satanic history 

The Celts, pagan festivals, the Day of the Dead 

Each kid at our school had a homemade costume 

So funny, the boys wearing big sisters’ clothes 

Ghosts and devils took over the playground

And silly small clowns with red paint on their nose 

 The streets were a threatening place in the night

No adults, we children went out on our own 

Just when we thought that we’d conquered our fright

We’d hear down the block a deep death rattle moan 

Few things after twelve match Halloween night 

Disguises, the darkness, the candy, the fright 

Earthworms in Songs: A Blitz Poem

[Note:  A blitz poem consists in 50 short lines, typically written in a hurry.  Lines 1 and 2 start with the same word, lines 3 and 4 start with the last word of line 2, and so on.  Lines 49 and 50 are the last words of lines 48 and 47.  The title is the first word of line 3 and the first word of line 47, joined by a preposition or a conjunction.]

Eating garlic

Eating earthworms

Earthworms attached to fish hooks

Earthworms torn in two

Two lost daughters

Too close to home

Home of the sad sacks

Home is calling 

Calling all expatriates

Calling you ooh ooh ooh

Ooh I am so hungry

Ooh I’ve lost my mind

Mind your fitful manners

Mind your business, Crabby

Crabby people irritate

Crabby is as crabby does

Does your hair fall out

Does your breath smell bad 

Bad pols get elected

Bad children go to Hell 

Hell is lacking ice cream

Hell is made from dog poops

Poops in my front yard 

Poops the dog did not pick up 

Up the down escalator

Upward fly the bluebirds 

Bluebirds nest in peach trees

Bluebirds croon at twilight

Twilight spreads its tendrils

Twilight is the death of day

Day dreams of bygone times

Days turn into night

Night of endless desires

Night belongs to ogres 

Ogres in your attic

Ogres with pointy teeth

Teeth require flossing

Teeth get stained dark yellow   

Yellow pigmentation

Yellow like my heart

Hart, Schaffner, and Marx 

Heart for dark adventure

Adventure in Antartica

Adventure for muscular birds

Birds with damaged wings

Birds sing winsome songs

Songs of the Marzipan 

Songs of pain and sorrow

Sorrow

Marzipan 

Clark Kent on the Analyst's Couch

My life, such a tragic beginning

When Krypton was blasted to bits 

My father sent me off in a rocket ship,  

My whole race then perished in the blitz 

I was rescued in a wheat field in Kansas

By Martha and Jonathan Kent

They adopted me as their only child

And taught me what rightfulness meant

By age three I’d discovered my powers

I could toss a cow up in the air 

The Kents were completely astonished

Though my strength also made them beware  

They trained me to hide my abilities

Masquerading as a plain Kansas youth 

My destiny, they explained, was to aid humankind

As the guardian of justice and truth 

In adulthood I lead two disparate lives

I’m Clark Kent for most of the day 

Earnest reporter at the Daily Planet 

I seek facts and sniff out foul play 

“Clark Kent”, as you know, is simply a front

He’s the human I claim that I am

Mild-mannered, gentle, ungainly

Convincing even though Clark’s a sham 

My real self earthlings call Superman

I switch to my costume in a crisis 

As the Man of Steel, I fight doers of evil

The murderers, the crooks, and now Isis 

I can lift up a trolley with just one hand

Race faster than a speeding train

Machine gun bullets bounce off  of my chest

Children think I’m a bird or a plane 

To keep my identity secret

There’s no one to whom I get close

As Clark, I lead a most lonely life 

My true self I never disclose

I constantly worry they’ll see through Clark Kent

My disguise, just a blue suit and glasses 

Superman and Clark are identical twins

Just one slip, I’d be known to the masses  

As Superman, I’m still more lonesome than Clark

I fight every battle on my own

I have no peers and no intimates

Disaster and violence are all that I’ve known

I do have a soft spot for Lois Lane

I’m enamored of her spirit and beauty 

But I never show Lois my feelings

Love’s sadly not part of my duty

That’s the whole of my life, dear Dr. Freud

All the burdens of a dual personality

Both of my selves are estranged from the world 

My sole wish — just one speck of normality 

Speed Hump Diatribe

Now that I’ve turned a hundred and two

I find that I’ve gotten more crotchety 

What irks me the most are the speed humps

The mere thought of them, I turn all blotchety

I hate slowing down for these beanbags

So I go thirty miles per hour

My SUV clanks like a rusty old tank

And the jolts to my spine make me dour 

Plus speed humps are terribly noisy

They make your shocks rumble in pain 

We listen to trucks in the early morning hours 

The bang-crash-pows drive me insane

They never had speed humps when I was a kid

Only crazies built hurdles on a road

We children were smart and watched out for the cars

And drivers themselves braked and slowed 

And why do they now call them  speed “humps”?

They were speed “bumps” for most of their years 

They’ve changed the wording to blot out the truth 

Since “bumping” our cars raises fears

“Speed humps” does sound rather kinky

Like trying to make love really fast 

My roommate used to take thirty seconds 

Till his sweetheart suggested he last 

I hope that they’ll dig up those speed humps

They can ship them off to the Southwest

And build Trump Wall out of leftover humps 

Though they may not slow down eager guests

Zumba Rumba Baboomba

My gym has a gaggle of classes 

There’s spinning, plex pump, and tai chi

Zumba is the class that caught my eye 

My Sis says it helps her be free

I started with Zumba on Wednesday nights

Our teacher is named Lily Sascha

She has bright purple and pineapple hair

And, whoa, does she know how to cha-cha 

Cha-cha-cha to the left

Cha-cha-cha to the right 

Rock-step forward, rock-step back

Hands reach high, birds in flight 

There are only two men in our Zumba class

Just me and this angular guy 

We’re neither in first-class Zumba shape

Compared to the rest, we’re un-spry

Lean to the left side, arms aloft

March in place, fast-fast-fast-fast

Dig your left heel, dig your right toe

Whirl around, life is a blast

Zumba involves your legs and your arms

I can’t keep my mind on two things

I struggle to get my footwork right 

But my arms flop around like dead wings 

Push still harder, keep on going

Stamp your feet right through the floor

Wave those arms with wild abandon

Hop two jumps, then hop two more 

Some Zumba moves are beyond me 

To swivel my hips is a bust  

I worry my core has atrophied

Or maybe just coated in rust 

Salsa, merengue, and hip-hop

Raggaeton and cumbia too 

Toss in some soca and cha-cha

All these Latin steps, who ever knew

Our class lasts a full sixty minutes

By twenty I’ve broken a sweat

My knees get sore around forty-five

The last few are Russian Roulette 

Slow the pace and cool down

Arms wave gently to and fro 

Stretch each leg so far behind

Feel your muscles ebb and flow  

Right now I’m the klutziest person in class

But with time there’s a hope I’ll improve

Whatever the case, I say Zumba is great

Some day I will be in the groove

Life Is a Color Wheel

When I was born my toes were blue

And not just my toes — my arms and legs too

In fact my entire body was blue

Blue as a bluejay in a sumac tree

Or the waters of the Gulf in July

My mother took one look at me

She asked the doc, “What have I wrought?”

All of her babes had been lavender or pink

A blue child — not what she’d sought

I only stayed blue for two or three years

I was green by the time I reached four

Green as the hue on a two-dollar bill 

Or the weeds at our neighbor’s front door

Kids were all kinds of colors at school

But no one had ever seen  green 

They found my color peculiar

Veggie jokes were a daily routine

High school became a fractious affair

Every year I got more and more yellow

I pretended that I was a lemon

Most thought me a rather strange fellow

Burnt orange when I left home for college,

I looked like an out-of-place bumpkin

My skin was the texture of apricots

Most girls mistook me for a pumpkin

I was red during much of my adult life

But never at ease with my color

Red is the symbol of anger and war

Those who knew me all said I was duller

I retired the day I turned seventy-one

The next morning I woke up deep purple

Having started my life as the color blue

Reaching purple, I was nearly full circle

I’m glad that I’ve been all these colors

It’s hard to say which one is best

I have been impressed with purple so far

Nonetheless I’ve enjoyed all the rest

At my age I’ve learned a deep secret

It’s that life is a color wheel 

You start out as blue and you end up blue

But the colors in between are what’s real