Time 4 me

Email
need to feel connected
Egress
need to disconnect
Envision
need to meditate

Belladonna haiku

Nebulous id
belladonna's purple shade
deadly doll of bane

Fun, fun, gone

Post a post, poet
if you can't, can it.
Say a saying - soothsayer
neigh a neighing - neigher.
Graft the whip - whip-and-tongue grafter
create a crude cast, cracker.
Unpost a nopost, non-poet.


I did not attend the funeral, but I
sent a nice letter saying I approved
of it. Mark Twain

Lonely?

Weirdly wired
was I from the start -
but come to find out
not as odd as many others.
So open yourself
to the world
you may find
people surprising you.
Scared at first -
disappointed much,
but at my age
who *** cares.

Funk Gone!

A positive man died
we need more optimists
brighter outlooks
less negativism
an attitude change
starting today with me!

To Randy Pausch

Sunflower haiku

Its bright yellow crown
wakes my blue middleaged eyes
with a jabbing jolt.

Showtime

When I go into a store
I am sometimes in poor garb -
and I do not look the part -
so some sales people treat me
with less than respect.
When I go into a restaurant
I sometimes get flustered,
and waiters will let me wait
due to my not looking the part.

It is all a play - but
with politeness it can be a breeze.
The show in the marketplace
must go on - life is a theatre
we are all partners - just not always
following the director's script.

Moon women

We, the moon women, give birth
to womanity, alas
humanity seems
waning
where
when
why
we
w
w
we
will
while
waxing
new lives
before waning
again, womanity wants
the moon with humanity
and humility with womility.

Lamentable censors

Filters of mots justes
erase poems -
metaphors not clean?
Expressions covered
in saccharine
may not solidify
what a poet targets.
Censorship unintended
lamentable laughs.

Honest politics?

An honest courtesan
is to be preferred -
her wares are valid
in lieu of oral sensual
lofty Aeolian promises.
Oxymoronic dailies
perpetuate politicians
as true individuals
caring for others
when the only one
a politician is truly
in awe of - the self.
Give me a whore any day!

Brain power

Amazing brains
twist ideas
into new ones,
power of combination
floors me
even at ninety
when lesser minds
are either dead
or rotted.
Some uniques
still combine
probabilities
into
possibilities.

le tour et mon village

dans mon petit village
aujourdh'hui loin de moi
le tour de France passe

un point sur la route
les roues tournent
et mon village est depasse

Great horny owl

I am a horny owl -
after 30 years
he left me -
suddenly
I need a male
satisfying my needs -
but I am not barhopping
because that is just
like saying
I want to bed
with anybody,
although i NEED a male
I am not going
to that extreme
yet.
A year it has been
a year where my life
has become a true
rollercoaster -
I have lost weight
big time - just this
last month I lost
another 5.
Doc's worrying
but I feel great
looking better
than I have in years.
However, I need a male
I want sex -
I am a horny owl
looking for a mate?
Because in nature
when the mate goes away
or dies -
the left over mate
will try new blood
just to keep
the species spreding.
My mate left me
why can I not yearn
for another horny owl?

Apres la fete

Encore le quartorze
tout le monde s'engorge
avec d'esprit et d'elan
rat-ta-ta-plan.
Encore le quartorze
mon village s'endorme
apres les fetes et tam-tam
la gueule de bois - patience.

Torben Douglas

Grandchild - welcome
from your mother's womb
into your father's arms -
I applaud your arrival
alas - so far from me.
But your other granny
will once more step up
and be what I cannot.
My wish for you as always
will be - health and humor
with that you shall concur
your own sphere and the world.

Wonderous way for a Volva

Summer calmed the souls
clad in the glorious hues
in the village near the brook
it was not long after Beltane,
just before Litha's night
Vigga the Volva walked
where everybody went -
old people, young
middle-aged, tiny tots
it was a glorious morn
on the village green
somewhere not quite
over the bonny bridge
near the iron black smithy
seeing the farmer's market
full of offerings of
all the season's fruits,
vegetables, and most vitally,
the herbs and spices from
faraway countries and lands.
Two foreign mongers, one known,
the other a total stranger,
peddling the newest in
medical mandrakes and spices.
Vigga went to have a closer look
at the wares of the stranger.
"What will you try, my lady?
Spices that will form you
into a brilliant cook
of the eastern lands?
or are you more of a medical mind?"
The Volva wondered where from
you would get such colors
and decided to ignore her usual
renitence to strange men.
"A medical mind" she smiled.
"I need a potion to calm
a person's upset essence
as well as a healing herb
for sorrow for losing a child."
The volva waited impatiently
for the herb-man's response.
Black cohosh, my lady, for sadness,
and chinese wolfberry for your chi,
what you would call spirit, my lady.
The merchant dressed
in turban and long djellaba
white with rarest hues
saffron yellow trimming
urged her to examine his units and
the Volva speculated from whence
he came, more to herself-
the vender looked Arabic and spoke
semi-haltingly in her tongue
but when somebody else asked in
a continental brogue he answered
fluently and eloquently.
His tall brow and his handsome chin
lead her to believe he was of good birth.
I take three drams of your cohosh
and two scruples of chinese wolfberry
if it really comes from China."
The tradesman trounced the spices
on his tiny balance and barely read
the amount wanted by the Volva.
"Will you require anything else?
There is another herb which you might
want to take for an upset mind,
its name is rawolfia serpentina
and it will not hurt your spirit
but balm the psyche - not dull it.
I shall give you a little sample
and you will try it on a sick mind
in need of some calmness - and
it will not change the person."
The trader wrapped it carefully
and handed it to Vigga the Volva
who paid him in verdigris coins.
"My lady, would you care for a
drink in the local tavern?"
The Volva looked bemused, beaming
inwardly of the barterer's boldness.
"Might I be so frank," she barely muttered
"to ask you, why this bidding, my lord?"
'My lady, you interest me and if you are
a healer I should like to talk about
your wisdom and what you wish for
those for whom you toil and cure."
'Alas, my good man, I am, but an amateur
but I sometimes have luck in healing
and I have a friend who sees the sick
who has knowledge beyond anybody I know."
"Well, I should like to get to ken
why you think so little of yourself.
Let's break bread, when the sun is high
in the heavens. A quaff and a quiche.
Until then, good day lady healer."
The tradesman turned to aid a patron
who seemed very impatient and imposing.

The Volva threaded lighter than before.
She looked taller and turned to the fruit seller
purveying an apple for her morning travails
she had not eaten before coming
to the market day on the village green.
She went to the brook and sat down
and started cutting her apple with
her grandmother's toledo knife
"grosswolf" engraved as a memento mori.
She started to wonder why the tradesman
wanted to have words with a Volva.
She could not fathom why, no clue,
and she was normally endowed in guessing
what went on in the minds of folks
of the general variety - this time
no guess at all, so she resolved
her dilemma - just wait and see.

At the noontide the volva Vigga
went into the tavern on the green
which was filled with wrenches and valets
enjoying their repasts of choice.
Vigga gazed around at the happy crowd.
Before she could go any further
she felt her arm being gently nudged
and her tradesman smiled down at her.
"We better seat ourselves now before
every spot is occupied, and guided her
gently into an alcove where there was
a barren barrel with two oak chairs.
The merchant made signs to the server
who promptly came over, smelling a great
customer and his presumed paramour.
"I will have a little wine and some
partrigde as well as some green beans,
what about you, my lady?"
Vigga the Volva not accustomed to such
finery outside of her home answered
in subdued tone of voice, is that necessary?
"Yes, and bring us some French bread,
I saw you had it when I came in"
"two orders of Partridge then?",
the servant pondered. "Yes, and some
good wine - the best!"
"why" asked the volva, why this finery?
why me" "too many questions, just enjoy".
The Volva studied her host, highly highborn
she assumed, but no Musselman, since wine
was his command - maybe a Spaniard?
But then he would not speak so fluently
the Germanic language she heard earlier,
or would he?
When the wine came with two goblets
he poured hers first and then his own.
He raised his vessel and toasted her
"To friendship and fellowship"
staring intensely in her face and eyes.
Hesitantly, she also heaved up her tumbler
and mumbled in a melodious manner
"To fellowship and friendship".

The server brought forth their food a while
later and by that time Vigga the Volva
had gotten some information from where
the stranger came - a Slavic lower nobleman
of Joshuah's tribe and cunning.
"that's why he knows languages - knowledge
that I would like" she thought to herself.

A healer without knowledge is like a
stream without flowing clear water.
She knew painfully too little about
medical plants, just what her grandmother
had taught her and what else she and Sophia
had managed to gain of insight through
listening and aiding the healing woman.

"You asked me, why me?" Her tradesman began
"I find sympathy in your eyes - gentleness
in your demeanour - You could be my rest"
he stopped because the servant girl came
with their repast - hot and spicy.
"Eat, my lady, drink, domina,
enjoy, bella donna. What is thy name?"
"What is in a name? My name is Vigga
and they name me the Volva, due to my birth.
I was born into a long line of seeresses and
doomsday sibyls, but I can only see so little.
My sister is more endowed than I,
and very wise, her name is Sophia."
"Alas, we all have our little limitations,
for I was donned the name of Sebastian,
hiding my hinds of generations - a screen
to my real name ... Samuel of Hebraic descent.
That is why I wear a shroud of djellaba
to deceive the general public, we thread lightly.
For fear of repercussions of deadly sins
donned millenia's ago in the name of faith."
Vigga The Volva, carefully scrutinized the face
wondering why he so readily told her his secret.

For a while they just ate in unison,
quenched their thirst with water
as well as the French rose wine from Anjou
which Sebastian the herbalist had ordered.
Vigga the Volva wondered why she felt so at
ease with another human being, apart from
her sister the highborn and wise Sophia,
as well as the healing wisewoman.
T'is was as their two quintessence quietly
interweaved and interpreted unspokenly
their thoughts - and reluctantly she divulged
to herself - she would like him to partake
of her and her life alone.
Her forehead wrinkled and she abolished
the tender thoughts by asking him
where he was heading after visiting her village.
He dried his mouth with his kerchief
smilingly replied that he could stay a while
or she could go with him to the end
of their own destiny, placing his hand
over hers tentatively and tenderheartedly.
She did not know which way to look,
so she decided to look at his palm
turning his hand upside for her to study.
The lifeline was long and strong,
but there was danger ahead - sadly
she could not see from where the peril
was coming and if he would just make it.
"I think, you will be better off leaving"
At least he would be safe from her.
"I will stay here for three days
and then I shall head north till
the end of summer - samhain shall be here"
Vigga took a deep breath - her breast
was about to burst - of sadness.
He looked at her, hailed the servant,
said I should like to settle,
urged Vigga the Volva to finish her cup
and took charge so naturally
that she had very little idea of
where they were heading vacating the tavern.
They went down to her brook.
Boldly, she showed him little ygdrasil
which had grown considerably
and could no longer be called tiny.
A healthy mature weather-ready tree
had grown from Vigga the volva's tears
and it seemed to tell her "Rejoice".
When the trader Sebastian tried to
kiss her the volva recoiled in remembrance
of the violent rape she had sustained.
She started to shake and her whole body
turned rigid - stone cold.
"Trust me" his eyes seemed to say.
Tenderly he just motioned her to sit
under her tree and relax. Use me as
a blanket was his unspoken words
She leaned against ygdrasil.

Her memory did alas not fail her and
she started to tell the stranger Sebastian
of her violent violation of her body.
Her eyes started to go moist and Yggdrasil
drank another cup from Vigga the Volva.
Sebastian the strange tradesman strung
his strong arms around the sad siren.
They sat like that for a long time.
Quietly the tears stopped whereas
when the Volva Vigga ventured
about the rape, about the ghost,
about the loss she had had to take.
"Let's walk, we need moving about",
the sage seller suggested timely.

"Wait", Vigga exclaimed, "there is more."
"Well, we can walk while you talk".
Then she proceeded to prompt him
about her grandmother, the elves,
and the rapist's fate ending as a helper
to the wise woman."I see him, every time
I go to her hut, and it is difficult
not to hate him. His fate is not easy,
and he is learning to be caring,
little by little on day at a time".
You see, Samuel, we are not vengeful
wenches and try to make good. Alas,
for me living like this is laborious.
I cannot see so well as I used to,
because I cannot forgive him,
not for the rape but for my loss of
...................freedom... to dream.
Sebastian, the trader of healing herbs,
took her hand and lifted it to his lips,
and then he spoke mildly as if to a child.
"Vigga you need healing, and you need
to cure yourself. Maybe it would be
that I shall be your guide in this.
Three days we shall spend time together.
I shall then ask you to follow me north
on my travels - to sell the rest of my stock.
When we return at Samhain you shall be well".

For three days the tradesman and the Volva
was together in her humble hut,
sharing and daring to open their hearts
to each other and themselves
and we shall leave them at that, not probing
respecting their personal privacy.

Just as dawn broke on the third day
Vigga the Volva had made her decision
she was going north with the tradesman
trotting along - for worse or better
seeking herself and her seeing
while enjoying the freedom to hope
so Sebastian the herbalist and
Vigga the worn Volva rode off
into the fair light northern lands
for a summer of their soutached souls.

Heat haiku

summer's hurting heat
alert with soft fireflies
festers sogginess

Sun memory

Sunsmeared leaves
reflects summer
on the lawn
softly
in the morn
reverts winter's
tarnished boughs

Leto

In our backyard a rose
of fine fragrance
blooms over the grave
of a wondrous pet,
Rosebud's name: Leto.
The scent hints forever
faithfully beloved.

for the 4th

For the fourth
in the US fort
peace henceforth!
But oil is bought
with blood and wrought
of powers - naught -
a celebration fraught
with bad thoughts
democracy's lot
not easily taught.

Le timbre

Le village lointain
dans le brume de mon cerveau
fut comme les timbres
de nos vies -
clairs au debut
plus vagues apres
et si on le verrait
le voile s'illumera!