A Longer Belt

I know I shouldn’t cry or boast.

This ain’t the worst I’ve ever felt …

but I keep getting diagnosed!

I think I need a longer belt.

I would just add another notch,

but I am out of room by now.

Diseases add up while I watch,

stark helplessness upon my brow.

It’s nothing deadly, that’s for sure.

But life goes on, and worse, I get.

Who knows what all I shall endure?

Not me. Things happen. I forget.

These tally marks are all I’ve got

to add up horrors, mounting still,

the next annoyance I have caught

that drains my hope and saps my will.

It is my life, so I’m engrossed …

I write down every symptom felt.

Lists help to get me diagnosed.

Lists prove I need a longer belt.

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The Long and Winding Road

This is the longest drive I’ve had to make in quite a while.

Can’t wait till you arrive with your endearing, goofy smile!

It’s forty minutes to the airport gate and your embrace,

my eyes anticipating the “I’m home!” look on your face.

The long and winding road I take to get from here to there

feels longer every second, I’m most painfully aware.

’T’will, too, be hard to last the journey back here to our house,

for it has been too long since I have held you, darling spouse.

So, I will want to stop off at a hotel right away,

and consummate our love again ASAP, without delay.

Once we are home, two cats compete, and cry to feel your touch,

when mostly though, they slept, and didn’t ask where you were much.

Both of them plus me makes three; of arms, you’ve only two.

So pet me till I’m satisfied. Pet them when I am through …

for I, unlike our kitties, felt a genuine heartache.

I missed you every moment, while asleep, and while awake.

I dreamed of lying with you in our bedroom, in your nook,

of how you stroke my hair through several chapters of your book,

of knowing you are “home,” although you leave to go to work.

Just having you in town prevents the urge to go berserk.

When you are home, our life resumes the way it’s supposed to be,

with you beneath our roof, imparting cherished love to me.

Let’s skip the long and winding road and stop off for a spell,

extinguishing the fire that your sole touch was meant to quell.

Making Do

rhymaphilia

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. That’s what people say.

I guess I’m forced to test the theory now that you’re away.

I know that it’s for business and you won’t stay past a week.

It’s still too long to go without your kisses on my cheek.

I’ll live in your blue sweatshirt and I’ll spray it with cologne.

I’ll bring the cats to bed with me so I won’t sleep alone.

I’ll buy another toothbrush and I’ll put it next to mine.

I’ll tell myself that while you’re gone, I’m gonna be just fine.

I’ll put on all the TV shows I know you like to watch.

I’ll wear your robe and slippers and I’ll sip your favorite scotch.

I’ll transplant my butt to your indentation on the couch.

I’ll ask myself each morning, ‘Who’s my favorite little grouch?’

I’ll do all those mundane things, like taking out the…

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Rebel With A Cause

I woke up this morning and told Weakness to fuck off.

Time for some adventure, though I know I’ll pay the cost.

I’m not gonna listen when my body wants to quit.

I’m a damned good actress. And today, I’m playing “Fit.”

Push until my legs are leaden and my shoulders shake.

Push through shooting pain that comes with every step I take.

I’ll ignore The Urge To Stop and press on till the end,

sure I’ll miss in triplicate the energy I spend.

Focus on the atmosphere, not Physical Complaints.

I’ll do what they’ll do and I’ll not tolerate Restraints.

Come and get me later, Lactic Acid and Regret.

You will have me, true, but you may not come claim me yet.

Set up vigil, Sir Fatigue, and wait here if you must.

I am up and ready, and I feel downright robust!

All you bad guys go ahead and regroup while I’m gone.

But for now, no matter what, this bitch is moving on!

Missing You

 

I tried the best distraction I could, visiting with friends …

to give myself some company until your journey ends.

I needed something marvelous to entertain my brain,

to keep my heart from bursting as I slowly go insane.

Although those friends are tried and true, I missed you just as much.

We talked of gods and man, the state of life, the world, and such.

No matter what the subject, though, my thoughts would turn to you,

no substitute available to last the two weeks through.

I sit and count the moments till you’re in my arms again,

here, soaking up the atmosphere we’ve conjured in our den.

I learned that while you’re gone, our home is where I want to be,

within the walls that witness all our witty repartee.

Your smell is in a bottle; I can douse myself each day,

and walk around imagining you offered me a spray.

The book you last were reading’s on the nightstand by our bed.

I use the same shampoo you use to groom your golden head.

And though a saucer’s never ’neath my cup of morning joe,

I think it’s cute you use one, so I do, too, when you go.

I have our family albums, and our portraits on the wall.

I wait with bated breath until the next time that you call.

I clear my afternoon to Skype and hear about your trip,

and know that when you say “a crisp,” you really mean a chip.

I long for it to be the time to go get in the car,

to fetch you from the airport once you’ve landed from afar,

to bring you home and lock the door and throw away the key,

and keep you right where you belong, alongside l’il ol’ me.

Illegitimi Non Carborundum

 Don’t ever let the bastards get you down.

Don’t give them what they want and take the fall.

Brush off your fear and turn yourself around.

Make sure they all can see you standing tall.

You’re so much better than their lies and hate,

far stronger than their arrogance and greed,

no side show in the circus they create …

there’s nothing state-of-mind can’t supersede.

To live well is the fiercest counterblow.

Deprive them of their precious schadenfreude.

Take charge and redefine the status quo,

and never let them know you’ve been annoyed.

It’s easier to be said than be done.

I promise, if you do it, though, you’ve won.

her

see her in the parking lots

pushing carts of treasures past

tattered dolls and tarnished pots

harshly judged and never asked

scraggly hair and faded eyes

hollow bones, a shaky frame

pure of heart, though none surmise

human rat without a name

someone once belonged to her

needed her like lungs need air

all that happened now a blur

echoed in her vacant stare

A Happy Ending

We women so love to wed our man’s potential,

the power of “could” the most sought-out credential.

The person affianced, in large, inferential,

my choice, at the time, had not seemed providential.

All marriage, by nature, is experimental;

who’s there at the altar is merely tangential.

By now we’ve advanced through a time frame essential

to label your love flow my way nigh torrential,

your treatment of my beating heart deferential,

your goals, which change with mine, our shared differential,

your husbandly ways of the flesh quintessential,

the thirst for life shown in your works influential …

my love for you still leaps in bounds exponential.