May weather haiku

A humidity
wave of drops unbearable
but good for the bugs

In awe

Did I really rear three kids
breastfed them and clothed them
without losing my mind
or was it lost when the hormones
took over my body
instead of my brain?
Now with daughter's son
I see the whole pattern repeat itsself
just like it has done for
mammals since the evolution began
It does not make it any better
or worse - just a thought
of the animal in us all
Fucking nature -
feeling less wild nowaways
and in stupendous wonder
of life itself - wow

I am trying and that’s what counts?!?

Clutzy day of a special kind
Unique accidents - all fumbling
Ending up laughing hysterically
Just because of my own idiocy
In the kitchen while trying to cook
A gourmet meal for a friend
Turning another corner on
The Richter scale
Hoping that the cook lives
Through this crazy calamity
Realizing that there might be something
About biorhythms and how
One can sometimes be a danger
Without really wanting to.

Ellicott City - again

olde Ellicott City
with stories to tell
from a mill town to
a touristy everyday hangout
you are funky - has spunk
cause your young-at-heart
is growing and strong

but an aneurism
suddenly hits
out of the blue
and a blood clot
your body's defense
just floats and bloats
and almost down
on your knees

the second time within
twenty-four months
how many more
can you take?
how much more
of nature's wrath
is enough for the soul?
Ellicott City of
youth for the ages/aging
keep fighting -
I need you for
my sanity and your own

Twice within 24 months a major flooding
in Ellicott City is a warning that 
nature has gone haywire

A waiting

Sitting in the parking lot
Waiting
For
The
Bottles
Of
Beer
They
Arrive
By
Special
Messenger
And then we drive on

Friday wish for the world

Glorious inheritance
wonderful codes
wow - not

Wondrous heredity
fabulous nucleic acid
wow - not

You - who do have
good genes -
be  happy

You who do not
inherit healthy DNA/RNA
happy Friday
anyway


Fleur-de-Lys mulling over the inherited genes

The pink Rose

The pink rose in my planter
is a stunningly item of nature
she smells like an old time bud

The pink rose in my courtyard
is a thing of rare beauty
against the brown fence

The pink rose lasts only a sec
she is the contrast of nature
versus man - she wins!

Retour à mon âme

Dans le monde les gens
qui comprennent tous
les hommes
qui sont des chevaliers
les femmes
qui donnent de leurs mieux
restent l'espoir
pour l'éternité.
Désormais les pires
essaient de ruiner
tout pour tout le monde
ceux-ci réussissent
des fois avec une guerre
ou leurs pouvoirs désastreux.
Entre-temps des événements
petits et journaliers
sont sellés avec
des bon hommes
et des bonnes femmes
et alors je suis presque là
le Languedoc médiéval.

People - wake up

equanimity in front of
equality and legality
of the law of the land
and changing it
is what a Supreme court
should do everywhere
in a democracy -
alas in the US
there is now no equal rights
for a living person
chipping away the values
and ethical rectitude
fearful of the political balance
it is tipping towards
money and power
so the citizenship must become
more vigilant of its prerogative
otherwise the realm of darkness
might just take over
and there shall be no citizens
who are protected by the laws
only the fawning few
nobody is above the law
but the law can be tampered with
if the people are not punctilious

(On seeing RBG and then reading about 
another decision by the Supreme Court this morning)

A different Monday

A Monday in May
a quiet array
of sunshine and decay

A Monday in May
a wild foray
into an alleyway

A Monday in May
a  crazy melee
of desire and display

A Monday in May
a woman portray"d
of colors and souffle.

haunted daily

This is hard to keep up
This idea of a poem a day
This is more than hard
To keep daily calories count
This is hard to keep on
Doing the daily tasks
Thus - whatever you think
Is hard to keep up or on—-
A fallacy of your own
Laziness- my mother’s voice

Maybe or maybe not?

Message me a missive
in a massage

Message me a maudling
in a memo

Manifest your manipulation
in a mail

Must I then maneuvre
minutely

Mayhap then will we
move mutually

or

Mixed messages confound
the matter?

Guns money guns

guns - money
Money - guns
Having fun???

No thoughts
No prayers
Fuck the gun

Good man
Stops bad guy
With a gun

Fuck faulty
Logic
Get a gun
 
More money
To the lobby
Gun the guns

Un djinn me parle

Mon âme reste inquiet
Sans mon beau village
Chaque presque  six mois
un pèlerinage
M’est nécessaire
Pour mon sens sans spleen -
Autrement je tombe
Dans un trou - un djinn
Me perturbe et dit
Retourne vivement
Cazouls va t’hanter
Tout simplement
Sans que tu le sache
Tu aies des cauchemars -
Je vais t’envoyer
A ton purgatoire
De ne retrouver
Ton petit éden -
Stop - je lui dis - fini
J’arrive en trentaine

LOL

Laughing out Loudly or Aloud
is good for the endorphins
so that's why I spend so much
time in the so-called cyber orbit
Alas it is taking its toll
I am no longer in the local sphere
just a tad away from anywhere
no connection - just a stroll
a different universe
a sad but true traverse
so let me see if I can bring laughter
or at least just a quick smile
yes you'll not see my wrinkly face
in the mirror of time bequile(d).

Nightless night

Night against knight
Not enough exercise
Sleepless Pills
Which do not work
Nightless night
Incredible tiring
So today’s dawn
Sees a new need
Walking walking
Without which
The nightmare
Will not return
To sleep depriving
Knight after night

A color of worn days

My orange sweater  - a reminiscence
of the days of good and fancy clothes

I have worn it many times - today too
and its peachiness is still going strong

do I toss this tangerine remnant of a past
I cannot - for the same reason

there are my rainbow dresses that tell stories
only for me I know but still

A woman's cor(r)al wardrobe is her life
it talks of fads and crazy nights

So maybe this will be my burial's bittersweet
cloth and burnt with me - titian - apricot

Non- existing

Nothingness is becoming
an age of a certain number
when I hit that one
I shall become a nullity
Nothing is anything
and everything
and that in itself
counts for not a thing!

A brother’s limerick

There once was a guy named Torsten
With his brush he liked to touch them
The ladies galore
They asked for more
He painted with oil and floored them

Genetically humane

Move over generation
upon generation
upon genera...

The order of things
is the thread of life
just like any gene
it is born it lives it dies
nothing else

It is the waves that count
it is the ways that amount
it is how we are bound
together so weirdly
so sincerely
it is a chain reaction
fusing the fission
and the genes' mission

So here is the heir
of two families
nucleic acids
bound in a chemical
mitochondrial bind
in a slight different
non or coding DNA

Strangely enough
it is what we are all  part of
- humanity

Haiku on haiku

You write a poem
in the style of a haiku
a branch of stray words

The czar of Kremlin

A man named Putin the czar of Kremlin
is  a  highfalutin devious gremlin
His only motto: Mother Rodina
will play bravado : screw the world prima .

A non-poem

Waiting for disasters to happen
along with floods and hurricanes
for political reasons of onslaught
on a frail democratic idea
that one man has one vote
and that somehow you cannot buy it!
Here in the US we will enventually
realize that the electoral college
is a nullity that should be abolished
Here one will also admit
that democracy as an idea is lost
because people did not speak up
were gun(g) ho on money
enamored by the glitz and glam
of a bully and a seducer of
self-made (all American) ideas.
Alas -  nullity and money
reigns supreme - only with one hope
that the world will change
that democracy still has one chance
that it is only four/eight years
so we again can believe
ideal of man's sacrifice for liberty
and justice for all - not
for seducers and perpetrators
of  the political parties
of the populace per se
but  - for human dignity of
the electorate and the rest of us.

Thorin Leo

Thorin et navn fra elletiden
saa djærv en dværg elskes du
langtfra oprindelsen og tæt
på dit ophav over vandene

Thorin dit lys skal lyses
fra dit inderste indre
og uden at du ved det
er vikingeblod i dine årer

Dit andet navn er Leo
- en løventand - en blomst
så almindelig som ukrudt
men det forgår ikke

I maj spredes løvens blad:
tyrens mælkebøttebarn
så stædig - en resiliens
du nok skal få brug for

Thorin Leo dit kald
er ved vuggen en skjald
af norrøn nysgerrighed
fyld med indre kabaret

Og megen humor måtte
også blive dig forundt
en skæbne er skrevet
idag - et nysgerrigt ark.

Dyr og mennesker

Et dyrisk menneske
Kan ikke leve med omverdenen
Uden at skulle jage eller være vildtet
Som overgiver sig til sin skæbne
hvorimod
Et menneskeligt dyr
Kan bo i sin hule eller i sin rede
Og som kæmper for
At overleve i harmoni med
Sin Egenartethed.

A new necklace

Around a woman’s neck
Hangs a bauble -a speck
Of meaning or decoration
A tad of declaration
A silver vulva is mine
You sister - what’s thine?

A wrinkle of timeless idiocy

Wrinkling of thinking
is like a uplink of a blink
this is not even a wink
since you are stinting
whatever comes in cynk
and to surely interlink
the random clinking
alit, you double think
the political stink
this calamity shrinking
is not adverse to a kink
of a needed shrink
burying me in drinking

With an apology to Madeline L'Engle
for lending the almost title

des roses - des lilas d'un jardin

Je me rapelle entendre
La Rose et  Le Lilas
sur une maitresse
qui delaisse un amant.
Une autre chanson
sur les lilas d'un amour
qui est déjà passé
et l'amant ne revient.

C'est le mois de mai
un temps de folie
et tout un coup
je suis contente
d'être une femme
d'un certain âge
- sans des ennuis
visibles - extérieurs

Les vielles blessures
viennent des fois
comme des cauchemars
intérieurs et vieux
la rose et les lilas blancs
ou les fleurs bleues
leur morts calment
mes ancients nuits.

Alors viendra le futur
qui me restera avec
des autres souvenirs
doux et agréables
rempli des roses
sanglantes d' harlequins
ou des lilas violets
d'un jardin proche.

Hatred

You are different from me
therefore I hate you
You are a different sex
therefore I hate you
You have a different color
therefore I hate you
You have too much
therefore I hate you
you are too beautiful/handsome
therefore I hate you
I have too little sex
therefore I hate you
I have too little money
therefore I hate you
I have a prevalent color
therefore
I am entitled to hate you
You have a different religion
therefore I hate you
You are different from me
therefore I hate you

( Hans Christian Andersen's
Ugly Duckling rewritten
for adults)

May 1st - a mayfly

A Mayfly flew by the ponder pond
where Vigga the Voeva was meandering
slowly slovenly almost like a ephemera
a little larvae a nonsensical nymph
to evolve eventually into a day fly
only to mate meteorically in air
and the well-worn Voelva stubbed
her toes on a tilted stone at the water's edge
she murmured mildly ouch
continuing her daily dabble in nature
thinking that she as a shelagh
was also a mayfly having mated but once.
Granted she had been molested
but that did not consciously count
as anything but a rape on her soul
scarred with a memory forever
reminding her of the emasculated elf
who at least had atoned for his devious deed
and had since become her friend.
How strange a life can be -
she never again met her lovely lover
of that summer as a beauty and a butterfly
The mayfly would not really turn into one
In an imaginary imago of her wondrous world
it could surely and certainly occur
Was there almost anything more for  her
to experience extensively at the age of almost
seventy - well when she thought of her sister
Sophia  the highborn and  wise woman
that she lived her luck of life
in a cavernous vacuum where she saw
everything as in patterns and sewing
her trundling threads  slowly moving
so that she - Sophia could give advice
like Athena in Athens a long time ago.

The Mayfly meandered through the air
and Vigga the Voelva  wanted to follow it.
She wanted to dance around the maypole
It was a beautiful Beltane today because
she was going to hold the Elf -her friend-
accountable for his promise around
Samhain the day of the harvest feast
that something would happen
the year she turned sovereignly seventy
that she would embark on her trip towards
the unknown and yet so well-known
other place in Gaelic highlands where
she had spent one stupendous summer
ad mayhap she would find Shmuel
the trader of hearts and joy again
or she would find a new meaning
to her dreary wintry well-worn body?
Was that too much to ask of fate
on a new Mayday as a Mayfly?