Aftermath

 AFTERMATH

The Liberty Belle.

Big bad bomber in big war.

Down in a cornfield.

Blue Lavender

 BLUE LAVENDER

Fronds wave in the breeze.

Bees busy harvesting for their hidden hive.

The scent of Nature's nurture.

The Silver Apples of the Moon

 THE SILVER APPLES OF THE MOON

Ray Bradbury loved poetry.

You can tell by his titles.

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"I Sing The Body Electric."

Walt Whitman sang that song

Long, long ago.

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"A Miracle of Rare Device."

Where did he get that?

Kubla Khan knew.

Or, rather, Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

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"There Will Come Soft Rains."

Thank you, Sara Teasdale.

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"The Golden Apples of the sun."

The search of Wandering Aengus,

That is, Yeats.

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If you would steal,

Steal from the best.

So I, too, lift from Yeats

A line Ray overlept

To reach his own.

Dead Poets Society

 DEAD POETS SOCIETY

Men do it the hard way.

John Berrymore jumped from a bridge,

A victim of drink and the devil.

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Hart Crane jumped off a ship at sea.

No one knows why.

A better way to die?

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Randall Jarrell slit his wrist.

All he got was a scar.

Then jumped in front of a car.

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Vachel Lindsay chose

The house where he was born

To drink a bottle of lye.

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Women do it a softer way.

Sara Teasdale swallowed pills,

And simply went to sleep.

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As did Sylvia Plath,

Who gave her kids cookies and milk,

Then turned on the kitchen gas.

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Anne Sexton did the same,

But in a garage,

With the engine running.

A Royal Consummation

 A ROYAL CONSUMMATION

After they wed,

            The Dauphin and Dauphine

            Lay down together in the bridal bed.

It was vital that they be seen

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Consummating their wedded bliss,

            As it was an affair of state.

            And so that none would miss

The sealing of the royal couple's fate,

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The bridal bed was in a great ornate hall,

            And around the royal bedstead

            All gathered to witness the royal ball,

As the Dauphine lost her maidenhead.

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But the royal couple did not couple that day.

            The Dauphine stared at the ceiling,

            She knew not what to say,

As the Dauphin seemed to have no feeling

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For her priceless maidenhead.

            Instead, he lay quite still,

            Prostrate on their royal bed,

Seeming to have lost his will

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To satisfy the waiting, watching crowd.

            It was his pride

            That kept him from saying aloud

That he knew not how to ravish his bride.

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And so he merely touched her hand,

            And then they chastely kissed,

            And that just had to stand

As the consummation witnessed.

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Long after, in a secluded royal bed,

            The royal couple found their wedded bliss,

            As the Dauphine lost her maidenhead

In a royal union the lords and ladies missed.

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Even later, no longer the Dauphine,

            But Marie Antoinette,

            The Austrian who became queen,

She truly lost her head.

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As did the Dauphin, Louis, now the king,

            Along with many royal guests,

            All to the guillotine,

A consummation many wished they'd missed.            

My Widow's Mite

 MY WIDOW'S MITE

They are there,

Two bums,

Lounging in the summer sun

Before the store

I patronize for my food.

Even in the grip

Of darkest winter,

Huddled in dirty coats,

Rain or shine,

No matter the clime,

They are there.

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They are the gatekeepers.

I must pay them

Before I pass within.

It is my tithe,

My donation,

My Widow's Mite.

And so, to each I give a dollar bill.

I ask not what brought them there.

Nor do I ask how they spend

The tithe I give.

It is no longer mine.

It is theirs.

They drink,

They smoke,

They fight,

But I do not shrink

From giving my Widow's Mite.

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There was a new one with them today.

More grizzled,

More ancient,

Not lounging,

His walker would not let him lounge.

I pulled out a third dollar

And added him to my tithe.

He took it,

Hid it away somewhere,

Tried to shake my hand.

I gave a fist bump.

Then he poked one sharp finger

Into my belly.

"You're well-fed,"

He said.

Dog Down

 DOG DOWN

Antony walked Prince every day,

Sometimes twice or thrice a day,

Looking for a tree.

Prince needed to smell the roses,

Smell the fire hydrants,

Smell a bush and a tree,

To see

Who had been there to pee,

As if to say,

"This is my tree,

So keep away."

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Prince would then pee

On that tree

To say,

"No, can't you see,

This is my tree."

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But Prince was a lonesome pooch,

And Antony a lonesome man,

So one fine day

Antony visited the local pound,

And there he found

Princess,

Feisty, fluffy, frolicsome, and fun,

A fit companion

For a lonely pooch

And a lonely man.

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And then the trio went around,

Antony, Prince, and Princess,

Rescued from the local pound,

And now part of the three,

Out on proud parade,

Perambulating around

The park and grounds,

Looking for a tree.

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But yesterday

There was only Antony

And Prince

Parading down the way.

"But where is Princess?"

I asked,

For always there were the three.

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Antony looked away.

"I had to put her down," he said.

"She wouldn't stop peeing.

I tried to train her, I truly tried.

But she peed in the kitchen,

She peed in the living room,

She peed in the bedroom,

She peed on my wife's armoire,

She peed on the rug.

We had to throw it out.

We bought another rug.

And she peed on that rug."

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"That's enough," my wife said,

"I won't buy another rug.

Princess has to go,

Before she pees again."

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"I tried to find her a home.

I tried my family,

I tried my friends,

I tried strangers on the street,

I tried people in the park,

Out walking their dogs.

I even tried the pound

Where I'd found her.

But no one wanted Princess,

Especially my wife.

Princess had to go, she said.

So I had to put her down."

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He turned to me.

His cheeks were wet.

"I tried, " repeated.

"I asked everyone I met,

Everyone I knew.

I didn't know what else to do.

So I had to put her down.

But I tried, I truly tried,

I truly, truly, tried."

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I nodded.

"You tried," I said,

Giving him my absolution.

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"Thank you," he said.

"You know I tried."

Then they walked away,

Antony and Prince,

A lonely pooch

And a lonely man,

Looking for a tree.