The lion

The lion is the king of beasts,
A point there's no denying,
In fact, if you said otherwise,
He'd say that you were lying.

His regal mane, and stately tread,
Are signs of his high station;
He sleeps, when he's not making love,
His favorite avocation.

His loyal helpmate, Mrs. Lion,
Will jump to do his bidding;
When Lion roars and flicks his tail,
She knows that he's not kidding.

The lion is the king of beasts,
Commanding our attention.
His place in life is absolute,
At least, that's his contention.

Chasing away Mr. Blues

When Mr. Blues comes to visit,
The pain is exquisite.
When that mean old dog bites,
Your despair knows no heights.

But one fact remains true;
He'll leave, and then you
Will cheer up and incline
To your old state of mind.

Regaining resources,
You'll marshal your forces,
Solve problems when ready,
Both major and petty.

The challenges waiting
Might seem aggravating,
But you'll meet them each day
When Mr. Blues goes away.

Obituaries

When people die, they're only dead;
No angels weep beside their bed.
Please, spare the silly euphemisms
As we go through departurisms.

We don't "pass on," we're simply done,
As though we never had begun.
The only place we were, is here,
And now we're not; is that not clear?

On the road

Your beatnik friends, were they on track?
Please, tell me how, Jack Kerouac;
Did they express, in great degree,
Your fervent longing to be free?

What made you get out on the road,
Your need to shuck a heavy load?
Or was the road your only goal,
A means to irrigate your soul?

And when you rode from coast to coast,
Of what deep insight did you boast?
The same sun rose on east and west,
Which coast did you decide was best?

You knew your life was just on loan,
Not some new plaything you could own,
And knowing that, saw it clear,
Embraced the whole, devoid of fear.

You saw a chance to get some kicks,
And rolled along Route 66
(The road we used to navigate
Before they built the Interstate).

And whether you were right or wrong,
You stayed the course, and sang your song;
It rang out on the open road
In cadences that never slowed.

Was it "beat," your generation,
Or symbolic of the nation,
Espousing a philosophy
Demanding that all men be free?

Another spring

Weary of winter,

                                        waiting for springtime,

March makes a promise

                                        unmarked by misgivings;

Fertile earth will unfreeze,

                                        flowers will flourish,

Warm sun will shine,

                                        and songbirds will sing;

New life will unfold,

                                        bare forests will fill
With foliate splendor,

                                        spring will spread seeds,

Ensuring summer's

                                        promise of pleasure

And bounteous plenty,

                                        once more, saying, "Yes!"

To each youthful year's yearnings

A good night's sleep

For years I was stubborn, refusing to rest,
Instead of admitting a good sleep was best.
When the thought of a nap came into my mind,
I banished it fast, and went back to the grind.

I'd stretch and I'd yawn, and I'd say with a groan,
"I need to write, and more time than I own."
I'd drink coffee all day, cups past all the telling,
Ignoring my sleep-loss, my body rebelling.

I stayed in the game, with my eye on the stake,
Kept playing my hand, though I needed a break.
And the hours dragged on, but at last all seemed fine;
If I had the best cards, the jackpot was mine.

At my keyboard that day, and the memory's sore,
I fell asleep in my chair, wound up on the floor,
And as I got up, I realized with a shock,
I'd been leading my life in a race with the clock.

From infancy's days, all through life's churning storm,
I'd been brain-washed to think work alone was the norm;
But it isn't at all, that's a tale we've beeen told
That keeps us distracted until we are old.

"I'm retired," I thought, "What's the point, what's the rush,
And these are the days when my life should be lush."
I looked all around, as the shadows grew deep,
Walked into the bedroom, and went straight to sleep.

I'd just learned a lesson, a truth for the ages;
We change as we grow through life's varied stages.
Ambition is good, we should welcome it's prod,
But up to a point; after that, it's just odd.

Now I sleep when I'm tired, always seeking to rest,
I pay heed to my body; I've learned it knows best.
I make plenty of time for smelling sweet flowers,
It's balance in life that enhances our powers.

Growing up

Sing out, fair goddess, heed my call,
For I have bridged my gap-span years,
And I have faced up to my fears,
Not hurting very much at all.

The dream, now just the merest shade,
Like quondam love, of love bereft,
Proclaimed its fickleness and left,
To end an empty masquerade.