Category Archives: love

Six senryu of Henry VIII

Henry VIII

Despite recent hoopla about the birth of a baby, I’m not convinced it ever makes sense to marry into the Royal Family. Witness this brief history of the marriages of King Henry VIII.   Written for Poetic Asides, in senryu form.

 

Six senryu of Henry VIII

I. Catherine of Aragon
Queen of earthly Queens
ditched after twenty-three years
for someone younger.

II. Anne Boleyn
In less than three years
he had her executed
on trumped-up charges.

III. Jane Seymour
Lady-in-waiting
to Anne, and Henry’s mistress.
Died after childbirth.

IV. Anne of Cleves
Married for six months.
Never even slept with him.
She got off lightly.

V. Catherine Howard
An adulteress?
Like her cousin Anne Boleyn
she soon lost her head.

VI. Catherine Parr
Henry’s third cousin,
put his house in order, and
outlived the bugger.

 

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Year 24: Nothing says I love you like a banjo

kermit banjopicture from GitBox Culture

 

For my beautiful wife, on our wedding anniversary. Not the most romantic of sonnets, but consider the alternatives.  This year was supposed to be a silver plate, and next year a musical instrument.  Just what we need around the house, another instrument!  Anyway, I love you dear – this one’s just for you.

 

Year 24: Nothing says I love you like a banjo

Well, they came up with an impressive list
of anniversary presents to go
alongside the traditional gifts. So
now any guy can make a decent fist
of getting her what she’ll love. You promised
to cherish her always? Then why not show
it year by year, using the plan below?
(It’s kind of goofy, but you get the gist).

First ten years: paper, cotton, leather, fruit
wood, sugar, copper, bronze, pottery, tin.
So far so good. Then things disintegrate
until she’s just got a grab-bag of loot:
sculpture, watches, cars, glasses, But then, in
year forty-six, A POEM. I can’t wait!

 

Drink Me

Coffee heart

Last night, there it was.  A heart in a coffee cup.  We just looked at it and rubbed our eyes.  For me, coffee and love have always gone together.  In Tanka form…

should you find my heart
floating in your coffee cup
stir the cream gently
and then drink every last drop
until I am part of you

Snow blower’s lament

Snow  blower

Winter has arrived full-bore here in northern Indiana.  All of a sudden, I’m paying attention to our snow blower, which for the past few months has languished largely ignored behind the car.  Do inanimate objects get jealous?  I wrote this little piece for the folks over at Poetic Bloomings

 

Snow blower’s lament

So he comes home last night
and he’s all excited about something
and he bursts into my room with a
bottle and in his Dale Jr jacket.
Next thing I know he’s all over me
trying to warm me up, and I’m like,
Seriously? But OK I let him cause
it’s been a while and I like the attention.

And then just when I’ve finally given in
and I’m kind of humming nicely
he’s like WHEN DID YOU START SMOKING?
And I’m like is this a joke? Since like forever,
only you never even noticed, you dipstick,
‘cause you never even ask me how I am
except when you need something
and I have to watch you going out

with that plush-assed bit** all the time
with her fancy name and showroom perfume.
And he just looks at me like what are you talking about?
And right then I broke down. Just broke down.
And he just starts yelling at me.
And I’m like, I don’t even care anymore.
You’re just a selfish user,
and I have had it with this relationship.

And he didn’t have the first idea what to do.
It was kind of funny, actually, his mouth
flapping open and shut like a broken intake valve.
There he was, just a silly little brat having a tantrum
in his NASCAR shades, with a shovel in his hand
and three feet of snow all the way down the driveway.
Well serves him right – and you can bet
SHE didn’t lift a finger to help him.

 

Francis in January

Saint Francis Giotto Assisi

I’ve never been good at making New Year’s resolutions. This year I at least got something down in the form of a rondel. Not sure what St. Francis would think of my translation of his words, but I really like the sentiment. My best wishes to all for the year to come!

 
Francis in January

Saint Francis had it right, you know,
in letting go what he held dear
to find that God is always near
in loving acts – as his words show:

“Where charity and wisdom go
live neither ignorance nor fear.”
In letting go what he held dear
Saint Francis had it right, you know.

What struggle and reward to grow
in simple gifts. Yet it’s my clear
resolve to bathe in grace this year
by letting love set me aglow.
Saint Francis had it right, you know.

 

Grantchester

Grantchester

 

Grantchester

That year it was spring forever
so that when we stood in the
water meadows all around us
was white, bursting with possibility.

And if I could be there again, today,
I would lift you in the June breeze,
and breathe until the air was filled
with love, and hope, without regret.

 

Nobody warned me

The weather is turning here in Indiana. Not quite as icy as the picture above – at least not yet… but the delicious chill in the air has seeped into my brain.  I’ve been thinking a lot about ice, and icebergs, and depths in relationships, and hidden things.  What amazingly fascinating creatures we all are, worthy of respect and always a second look.  I haven’t always been the best at seeing what is in front of my face.  Here’s a rondeau about love and ice and loss – not about any one person in particular, but maybe about us all.

 

Nobody warned me

Nobody warned me when the front door shut
a piece of me would leave as well. The rut
worn deep into my heart from long routine,
our blunted expectations, set the scene
for this unraveling. Perhaps what cut

me most was knowing I had missed a glut
of signs, had let the feeling in my gut
diminish to a whisper. What did it mean
nobody warned me?

If I had known I might have altered what
I said. Instead those icy caps that jut
above the surface chilled us with the sheen
of easy waters over pain unseen.
I could not reach you then – I would have, but
nobody warned me.

 

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