The bowl is left over from a party years ago by the mom of one of our New Directioneers.
Her husband had a heart attack at about 38 and from then on, he ate great foods to stave off anudder one. It was their son who came to our meetings.
Where are you now "Bartholomew?"
Here is something I posted this am on Facebook.
I'm a big fan of Nicholas Kristof from the NY Times. Here's part of what he wrote in his latest column
A president who has faced more than a dozen allegations of sexual assault is attempting to appoint a second Supreme Court justice who has credibly been accused of sexual misconduct, and those two justices might well help form a new court majority to chip away at abortion rights in the United States.
And remember that since Clarence Thomas’s confirmation, new evidence has arisen that makes it pretty clear that Thomas was lying and that Anita Hill was telling the truth.
If the same happens with Kavanaugh, one-third of the court’s male justices will have been tarnished by sexual misconduct.
Folks responded with No one cares.
Well, of course you'll wanna read my latest poems.
COLD
I wake up and I am cold
How shall I warm myself
Even my fingertips are cold
Shall I paint them?
In my bedroom I have
six drawers of clothing
The first smells of parfum
A long black shirt reading
Grand Canyon of PA struts out
I push it back. Don't like
that tight neck. What's this?
A cape-ish affair from
Banana Republic.
Ever been there?
I slide on my huggin
blue-checked pants,
which catch on my
red-painted talons.
Into my favorite cup
I pour green tea with blubberies
to warm me up.
Finally. Finally. I be warm.
THE HOT CEREAL AISLE
Cream of Wheat!
Cream of Rice!
How I remember you both!
nutritionally worthless
until they add their
vitamins and minerals.
Where is the face of the
Quaker Oats Man?
A ruddy, trusting face.
As a Quaker and pacifist
At meetings, the spirit shines
through him, and calls for
world peace.
By eating his oatmeal this morning
with fresh red raspberries and peanut butter
may the light shine through me too
for world peace.
Two hundred more years.
WHILE MAKING BREAKFAST
I HEAR THE STRANGEST THINGS
Sirens, of course, the chug of
a locomotive, and from the audio
book, "Fire and Fury" about
Donald J Trump,
"Trump in his heart was
a marshmallow."
Believe me, I'm not gonna
defile the man and suggest
we roast marshmallows on a stick
over the fire.
I scrape my mushroom cheese omelet from the
copper skillet and stand outside, purple
napkin in hand.
Hot! Muggy! I lean against the rear
of my car. Ever thought to yourself,
"This is the best damn omelet
I've ever had?"
WHY I EXERCISE
When I worked at the Intell
I read a medical column by
Rachmel Cherner detailing
the complications of diabetes
Thirty years later, after my
kidney tranplant, diabetes
came along for the ride. It was
free, cost me nothing, and is
a killer if you ignore it.
Who wants their toes amputated?
Who wants to go blind?
Who wants pain in the bottom
of their feet that feels like
the fires of hell?
Early morning today, I walked
around the block, arms swinging,
staring at all the garbage,
a green recyclable overflowing
with plastic bottles of water.
So easy, so convenient, but
think twice before you imbibe.
Love yourself, love our planet.
ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS
I awoke to Dick Proenneko
just call him Dick
narrating his thirty years
alone near the shore of
Twin Lakes Alaska.
Here comes Babe now, I'd
heard him say many a time.
The twin engine plane
landed gracefully as a
seagull on top of the water.
Babe's wife had kindly
knit Our Dick several
pairs of warm socks.
My warm socks all come
from the knitting mills
of The Sox Lady in
Furlong Pennsylvania.
I've been there many
a time.
Dick, with his narrow
body, bright blue eyes,
and warm cap, is stirring
a pot filled with elk stew,
replete with onions and
carrots and other good things.
The month of March has returned
and with it, the sighting of bears,
a mama and her two cubs.
Dick enters their cave and says
how clean it is, this narrow man,
originally from Iowa, who we
all admire.
He went back to the States
at 82, a bittersweet parting,
and died among people
alone no more, at 86.
I am with you, Dick.
Sitting here in my
warm socks, head uncovered.
***
Got a great haircut at Hair Cuttery, plus a waxing and great storytelling from Tina.
Dyou think Scott noticed?
Decided to let my hair go white again. It actually looks pink. It's in that awkward pink stage. I'm feeling it right now. She sprayed it with a foam product like Burma Shave or a foam contraceptive.
Gonna take lessons on this whatever it is. Sister Donna finally brought it to Mom's house in the car.Shall I practice now?
I think this calls for a drink! Where's the cold water?
Scuse me while I go offstage and write a poem.
PLAYING THE PIANO
Somehow as a kid of 8 we found Mrs Kultti
to give me piano lessons. A kind woman
of Christian Science faith, if she'd
accidentally bump her leg, she'd break
out in prayer.
Oh, the recitals we played at the Settlement
Music House near Wade Park in Cleveland.
Manly Sims was the best player, he never
touches the piano today. Arlyn Katovsky's
parents, were so proud of her and stood
near a French door, the lovliest people.
If Arlyn plays, it's on one of the moons
of Saturn today.
As a kid I wrote little songs - Heigh Ho
The Witch is Dead - and something about
a Rhinoceros.
I loved playing Brahms and in a recital
Mrs. Kultti had me play a movement from
The Appassionata.
At Goddard College, Ray MacIntyre presented
me with Bach Partitas.
If I were a praying man, which I'm not,
I'd pray, "Please, Dear Lord, let me
rediscover the piano, albeit electric,
and play like a son-of-a-gun, to thrill
myself and the 500 people come to
hear me."
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