Dancing octuplets joined at the hip
Hither and yon they must go
Carefully, carefully one might add
As they sidle as one through the door.
Joined at the hip might not be so bad
It’s their suitors for whom one must feel
Imagine how daunting the octo-fad
As clothing begins to peel.
Dread is the collection of years and years of affirming that first awareness, which led to the first thought which led to the first ought which was bought by a few and happily ignored by most as the postor stood by his post and marked his territory.
Republished from 27 November 2013
Am I grateful?
For the near miss on the fifteenth of this month when my head converted a car window to crumbs, emerging with a cut 1/16th of an inch from the outer carotid?
Or the cut near my right eye; the one which restored 20/20 vision to an orb that was nearly blind, earlier this year?
Or the strangers who gathered around the cab of my truck after the accident and kept me posted on injuries and blood loss till the trauma team arrived?
Or the trauma team?
And why am I grateful for these things?
Perhaps for a chance to get to know and love the new members of my rapidly growing family?
Or for the opportunities to serve those who are not feeling grateful right now?
Or for another few walks on those canals where I ran thousands of miles in younger years, remembering……..?
Elephants rarely go hippety hop;
Most certainly, rarely do I.
But what is that peeking from yonder cloud?
What is that up in the sky?
And over there, some tiger teeth
There must be fifty or more
And wrapped around them a great big grin
Like a Cheshire. Size XL or more
And who is that creature approaching me now?
A hippo? I think not.
Or an elephant? no,
Of that I am sure
It’s hippety, hipping and hop.
So that is the end, for now at least
Of this dream in a foreign land
Bring me a drum and a big bassoon
I shall leave with a marching band.
(Won’t you join me? Take my hand.)
Everything in life is addictive; really, everything.
The first thought inspires a second look.
The second look, an affirmation.
The third reveals an addictive part of our nature, curiosity.
Curiosity is a wonderful quality.
We Love, we fight, we investigate, we believe everything we hear or nothing.
And we fear.
Our very first thoughts as we entered this world are inspired by fear.
Fear is the driving force behind our addictive nature.
Our very first thoughts inspired by fear were to search for safety.
Some of us find it; some don’t.
It is called Love and is discovered in a three-step process; these three steps are…
The discovery and the implementation of these three qualities often inspires a new need.
We accept The Love and we pass it on.
The bias of a lynch mob brought the family together
And we began
The bias of the memory of a family not together
And we began
“You’re a wimp” said he
With Fire on his breath
His words were crisp
Like the crackle of death
And my friend whose message
Of Ooh La La
Became instead one of Oom Pa Pa
To the voice of his Alter.
Not once did he dare to falter.
Identified then as an arrogant prick
He wasn’t really (Perhaps he is sick)
Of what (Who knows) could it be that he
Forgot who he was and thought he was me
(As usual in search of another Rhyme
I seem to have run out of time.)
By Lee Broom
Posted May 10, 2013 by Lee Broom in Love, poetry
Tagged with space dust
Without Form there is confusion.
Without Logic we must follow the crowd.
Without Love we have only ourselves.
Without Faith our options are limited
“This is “Great”
He said, grinning
Appeared to be winning.
He Groaned and he Growled
Till the Grem-u-lins howled.
“This is Great” he said Grinning.
“This is Great”.
GETTINGS, MY GETTINGS
Ode to my Birth-Mother
Esther Mae Gettings – Oakes.
By Lee Broom from The Line.
These Gettings now gotten
Ungotten, what for?
Seem, now that they’re gotten
Behold these begettings
These Gettings of mine
Remember how hidden
These Gettings, so fine,
Ungotten these Gettings
Now, soft as new cotton