For Johnny

“For Johnny”

When falling leaves sigh, trembling to the ground
and brilliant gold is sprinkled everywhere,
I’m glad to hear your laughter mid the sound
of steps that shuffle up abandoned stair.

When scarlet leaves crush, hesitant to part
lay deep in dusty shadows, they intone
and whisper we are here as all our heart
holds sad farewell to memories we’ve known.

When days grow long with bitterness of soul
among the frost and starry branches bare,
remember yet your humor I still hold
before the light grows dull to dark despair.

Once more I sense your autumn presence dance
among the jeweled leaves mid our romance.

The Johnny in the poem dear to me.  We met, age 12, at a Junior High School dance. My dress a yellow, silky, full-circle skirt with tiny waist, ballerina slippers and a white, cotton peasant blouse with blue embroidered flowers around the neckline. I was a skinny kid.
Johnny was a fat little freckled-face boy with a big smile and lots of charm. He glittered in his blue plaid sport jacket that felt ‘scratchy’ when I danced with him. Unimpressed,  there was no love at first sight in 1946 but the dance continued on until February, 2009 when I lost him to cancer some 63 years later. It was quite a dance and he was quite a guy!

Lullaby For Trees

“Lullaby for Trees”

The glow of silver trees against blue sky;
against that deepest royal blue’s delight.
White blankets meant to beautify each limb
with loving care, how nature covers them.

The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast
it seems some artist covers to contrast.
Her deepest hue encircles icy trim
with loving care, how nature covers them!

To some, its nature’s deadly, frozen cost;
to others, it’s a message from some host.
Such honor sent to each as holy hymn
with loving care, how nature covers them.

The trees bejeweled now with breathless hue;
their branches blaze against an endless blue.
With adoration for their mother’s hymn.
With loving care, how nature covers them.

 

Kyrielle form: aa; bB; cc; bB; dd; bB; ee; bB (last line in each stanza is repeated) Meter: Iambic Pentameter

Papi and Me

dig
Photo by Carol J. Lee

I like my dog because he looks like me.

He’s patient, kind and has no silly whims.

He is the type we both aspire to be.

I dress myself accommodating him.

His love for me not based upon a selfish yearn.

If I forget to fill his water dish,

he comes to me with silent eyes that burn.

He stares, expectant, with disquiet wish.

His needs are often met with urgent bark

His wagging tail a gracious symphony

Much happiness begins at doggy park 

as both of us are suddenly set free.

He likes to walk; I like to talk.  We find

we’re birds-of-feather with communal mind. 

The Choice

The best of dancers ruined by a host

of other loves that to the heart may call.

Some choices must be made or not at all.

The dance too brief ; the song may end for most

and fly away from splendor of romance.

Crescendo reached and still the dance she owns.

Life is too short to settle, oh, for less.

Eshoo the heart; don’t make the dreadful choice!

Her soul now hovers.  Grief is like a plow

that pushes every goal to here and now.

 

(Was watching the Movie, “The Red Shoes” when I wrote this.  The agony of being forced to make a choice between two over-whelming loves can drive one mad.)

An End to Eden

“An End To Eden”Eve

Eve offered it to Adam: “Take a bite!”

Meanwhile, the devil wormed his slimy way

into the apple’s core and out of sight.

“Hey, Eve, where did you find this fruit today?”

“My friend, the snake, said ‘eat it’ and I did.”

As Eve complained her stockings had a run,

poor Adam tasted evil that was hid.

They say the silkworm had such enterprise

as silk became the fashion of the day

to cost poor Adam all his daily pay.

Oh, Eden’s lost!  Our hero’s doomed they say

when Eve did stitch a fig leaf round his bay.

 

 

911 Ceremony

9-11_evacuees_2
9/11/01 New York City WORLD TRADE CENTER TERRORIST BOMBING PARK ROW AFTER 2ND BUILDING COLLAPSE © TRICIA MEADOWS/GLOBE PHOTOS, INC. © 2001 K31459

Our face denies emotion with our stance
though years of suffered loss bring no relief.
Today we view the gas mask with a glance
as firemen-stunned among the Tower’s grief.
Our calm defies the hurt within recalled
that day we ran through dust as panic stings.
Our hair turns white remembering their fall
that day when ashes flew our feet had wings.

Modigliani Pause

still practicing my iambic pentameter…

jacquelinecaseypoetry.com

Modigliani-sgPainting: Modigliani.

So, we must laugh before that day may come;

before that twilight leaves us little choice

when both will mourn our last day in the sun

when colder silence muffles all our voice.

Yet greet me now; be kind before the fall.

Accept our hours together precious few

with no resentment for each time I call

with no assessment I am stressing you.

So many words,  unspoken,  stall mid-air.

They cause a pause become a gulf  between.

Make use of precious hours we might share.

Instead, you’re here, yet turn away, unseen.

I speak, apart,  but do not wish to be

so distant only forest hears my plea.

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jacquelinecaseypoetry.com

stamen“The Meeting”

If we should meet another time, my heart

when we depart this world and travel far,

remember how the looks between us start

us to another place among the stars.

Our love a pensive gaze; a sparkling shower

of light where we embrace the need of each.

Like shiv`ring tendrils of some stamen’s flower,

we cherish all such warmth within our reach.

Departed from this place, we may be hurled

into a starless night beyond belief.

Love’s consciousness then absent from that world

where caring has no sense to cause us grief.

Still, in that deeper night, our souls set free

I will be searching yet, for thee…for thee.

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“Circus Camp”

“Circus Camp”

There’s circus camp in USA, today.
The animals erupt as Nadler roars!
They’re munching at the bone, their hunger stays.
The ravenous appear as John Dean soars.

This dog and pony show with Dems in tent;
a tiny motor car moves center stage.
Out pops Obama with ten clown’s consent
as Bill and Hillary with song engage.

Pelosi’s pink upon her bareback horse
and struggles just to keep her balance, true
while needs of Border a forgotten course
as Dems dance in disgrace with sickly hue.

The circus lights ablaze with Congress spoof;
The Dems are desperate and Dean’s the proof!