HAIKU FOR MICHAEL SAMS

BIGOTS

They’re out there again,
texting tweets, lighting crosses
over a heartfelt kiss.



[Congratulations to Michael Sams and the St. Louis Rams]

HAIKU

Sometimes seventeen
small syllables can be a
difficult challenge.

Joey

Picture of Joey (hard to see, but on right in grey) while camping in North Carolina last year while they were gem mining. They soon will be up there digging again.

ESSIE

My family, especially my Mom (and later my sisters), has a long-standing habit of adopting into our midst individuals who quickly become an integral part of our lives. Over the years many important people seemed just to be there, as if they were always intended to be there, and it was as if they were always part of our clan. I won't list them here, but there have been many. Some stayed for short spans, others for longer periods, and each have been precious to us. Over the past decade or so my sister Beth (and then my younger one, Bobbie as well) brought into the fold the feisty pixie Esther Searer, although she was known to us as Essie. I believe she was either a friend or distant kin to my sister-in-law Patty's family, but she moved south from Pennsylvania and ended up part of the Tidd family in Florida, later moving with Beth (and Brad) to the Martin compound in southern Georgia. She held her own in this rambunctious family and always spoke her mind. She was a delightful person, even when she was acting like she was grouchy, and the verbal sparring was fun to witness, especially between Brad and Essie. It was much, much deeper than a caregiver situation, as Essie became like an older aunt, who would always come over and chat when we visited, who seemed to love my boys even though there was no direct blood. We loved visiting with her, though those times were few, and she even came up to Columbia. I know my little brother Paul was especially fond of her, and as she battled with cancer over the past few months, he made a special trip down to see her, just in time too. I was hoping she would hang on a little longer, as I was planning to go down with the boys at the end of the month, but alas God had a different schedule. We will all miss her. I have been down all day since I saw the notice. I know my sisters are grieving, and I wish them strength. And I wish for Essie a wonderful next journey and will always remember how she touched our lives. Rest in Peace, Essie.

DOOM

I hear sirens of my demise
wailing in the distance,
warning me of impending doom,
their strangling tune
discordant and angry,
marching toward certain death,
reaper’s fingers, an ancient breath,
and I have nowhere to hide.

WORDSMITH GANGBANGER

She writes poetry, the free-verse kind,
which sends forth warnings to my mind.
Her words are often dark and scary,
there’s seldom anything too merry,
so now I think, what’s the mental state,
will I notice something far too late?
Might she stab me with her writing pen,
or make our relationship too open---
like a comic standing on a stage,
venting funny on domestic rage?
Should one fear a potential anger,
wielded by wordsmith gangbanger?
Heart that’s ripped at an open mike,
don’t want to know what that feels like!
If a dating coward---and you know it---
steer clear of dark and lonely poet!

[PS: After I read three or so angry girlfriend posts on a poetry site, I thought . . . “hmmm, there’s a darn funny poem in there somewhere.” Not aimed at anyone I know, just thought up a scenario in my mind. So please no “did I write something to offend thee” notes. I was just musing comedic, as I am sometimes wont to do. And I know there are plenty of angry guy poets; I’ve been that too, a few times. So, it’s just how this ditty came out. Kind of odd I would even write this rejoinder, but some people can be overly sensitive (me), so I know.]

OPEN BOOK

Attended thus far two of the Open Book Writer's series held in the Ernest F. Hollings Special Collections Library in the Cooper Library of the University of South Carolina. Missed the first, but have been able to see David Mitchell and Jennifer Egan. Both were interesting and entertaining, in different ways. Mitchell was more off-the-cuff, while Egan came prepared. Attendance seems mostly by older patrons, academics; would love to see more students there. Nice facility for talks as well. Saw Judy Baughman at one of the events.

One special moment was rubbing up against Joseph Heller's desk, with his typewriter and lamp, which is held by USC, which has his papers.