Tuesday, December 16, 2014

The hoarder and the neatnik

She drove him wild; he married a hoarder,
A woman whose life seemed without order;
Order might be there on some cosmic scale,
But, proving that point? I think you would fail.

Her very best comfort zone was a cache
Of piles of junk mail, newspapers, and trash,
All over the house, wherever you'd look,
In every corner, every nook.

Obsessive compulsions take many forms;
Excessive neatness is one of its norms,
But hoarding's the other side of that fix;
Neatniks and hoarders are folks who don't mix.

Friday, December 12, 2014

On lovers

In sleep, you dream dreams like ardent lovers
Stealing off, like callow gypsy rovers,
To meet and tryst beside a sylvan stream.

The surest quality, the truth you want,
Is obvious, in memories that haunt,
Of carefree, feckless days you can't redeem.

In youth, love's filled with possibilities,
Denied by life's fragilities;
Reality can break the best-made scheme.

And yet, it's all men's nature to pursue
The goal of bliss, however false or true;
Our optimism always reigns supreme.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

On being wrong

I just didn't know what I was doing,
When I thought it was time again to wed;
The precious jewel I was pursuing,
Turned out to be a lump of coal, instead.
I missed the mark with Numero Uno;
But thought I'd learnt my lesson rather well;
The well-worn cliche drives home a point, though;
The best intentions often lead to hell.
Oscar Wilde dreamed up a brilliant trope
To describe second marriage when it fails;
Past errors pall as we succumb to hope,
And foolish optimism tips the scales.
Still, we're acting in an evolving play;
Perhaps we might get raves another day.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

On sleep

Sound sleep has no need for words
Like happiness or sorrow,
Unfounded hope, or regret,
Enthusiasm, or chagrin.

I have slept well without words,
Content in wordless silence,
Knowing sleep is a reward,
Previewing eternity.

Sunday, November 30, 2014

The Venus Flytrap

The Venus Flytrap doesn't shout,
Or tell its prey what it's about,
But spiders, flies, and frogs deplore
This unexpected carnivore.

Its open petals sit and wait
For bugs, to fill its dinner plate;
When insects light upon its lap,
Its teeth close quickly, with a snap!

Once caught, each victim melts away,
To meet the Flytrap's needs that day.
It's lucky that the plant is small;
We're safe, because we're much too tall.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Crossing the river

Kharon the boatman,
Crosses black waters,
Bridging Styx river,
Heading for Hades.

Doomed to dark duty,
Fearsome, he ferries
Souls lost to sorrow,
Futures unfathomed.

Weighty his work is,
All light and laughter
Lost to the lifeless,
Waiting for judgment.

Kharon the boatman,
Ferries the frantic,
Earning his obols,
Price of the passage.

NB: In Greek mythology, Kharon was the ferryman who brought the dead across the River Styx to be judged by Hades, god of the underworld. The good were transported to the Elysian Fields; the sinners stayed below. The obol was a small coin paid to Kharon for his services.

Friday, November 28, 2014

On change

The world spins fast around the burning sun,
And rolls right back to where it's first begun.
Each mayfly moment which the fates arrange,
Supports illusions that some things won't change.