A Picture-Perfect Day
I found a Kodak picture
mom and me frozen in time
with stormy white waves behind us
on a picture-perfect day.
A four-year old in a cowboy hat,
a pull string under his chin,
to the sandy beach I wore it,
on that picture-perfect day.
I could smell the salted water,
in the taffy and in the air
just looking at the picture,
on that picture-perfect day.
Mom was bright and pretty,
a few pounds she never shed
her arm around her kneeling joy,
on that picture-perfect day.
Dad used his Kodak camera,
no color and no gray.
His choice was always black and white
on that picture-perfect day.
Would he love or hate his only son?
Not knowing how to love.
He left us filled with hate and anger,
on that picture-perfect day.
I was so happy at the beach
with tranquil waves behind
no more will we ever cry,
on a picture-perfect day.
This poem appeared in Delaware Bards
July, 2019
The Composer
I am a great composer
with notes that never cease.
But if I could compose one thing
I’d write a song of peace.
My piano keys are black and white
playing side by side.
I would make each note resound with joy
echoing in pride.
The strings of my sweet violin
I’d bow with elegance
as trumpets blow and chimes ring out
resounding eloquence.
There’ll be singing to a gentile rhyme
and dancing all around.
A melody together
and harmony abound.
Just For Fun
The Peril of Pearline
The Little Lost Puppy
Pearline is tied to the railroad track
a damsel in distress.
Bound by a rope both front and back
wrapped tight around her dress.
Who would do this to such a fair maid?
And certainly she knew
An evil villain demanded her love.
in the distance the whistle blew.
She hoped for someone to come to her aide
And free her from this quack
More and more she wished and prayed
as the train rolled down the track.
Soon it will be the end of that.
At the train came whizzing through
Her head went one way in a splat
as rest of her split in two.
The inquisitive puppy
an adventure for one so young.
Lost year after year
looking for his owner to come.
Where was his true companion?
Not easy to find.
Searching through autumn rain
and winter snow.
Then purple crocus poking through
He found his way home to his buddy.
The Dirty Old Man
There once was a man from Lewes
As old as he was he was clueless
He went to the bar one day
Cruised all the boys who were gay
to admire their maximus gluteus.