ROUGH AND TUMBLE BROTHERS

 ROUGH AND TUMBLE BROTHERS

(FOR THOM)

We grew up rough and tumble brothers in that green and brick house,

A little past the middle of Braxton Hill,

If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can conjure it up still.

When our mom brought me home from the hospital, 

You were on the floor playing with your toys,

Asked my mother where's the baby,

Took a disapproving look and made a disapproving noise

 Went back to playing with your toys, the action figures and the cars.

An inauspicious start to this brotherhood of ours.

Always smarter than me you skipped first grade

Like Oscar Wilde you had a quick wit.

Sarcasm that cut like a two sided blade.

It makes me smile to think of it.

Yet you defended me from bullies at the top of our hill,

Who appeared almost daily like trolls beneath a bridge,

You drove them off with an iron persistent will,

That caused them to surrender, white flag atop the ridge.

Meanwhile we passed the time with Jeff, Nancy, Linda and Bruce,

Our neighbors up the hill and one street over,

Or Cathy Williams and Tito Valinas, who were down the hill and over the way

With these staunch companions we passed the languid days.

We shared many of the same teachers, Mrs. Griffin, Trott and Earle.

Perhaps there were others but it's lost in a whirl. 

I tried to live up to the legacy of you who went before,

Never content to equal you, I needed to be more,

Struggling for A's on the progress reports,

Worried always I was coming up short.

In college we diverged, you to UVA, me to JMU,

I majored in English. you in French.

You pursued teaching, I pursued radio,

We both pursued romance, you found it first

With Tom and then with Richard. but I still had a thirst,

It was satisfied when I met Kyle,

At last a man who touched my heart and always made me smile.

We would all meet for dinners out or home cooked meals that you would make,

Always new recipes, like homemade ice cream, and raspberry cake.

In January of 2024 you decided to retire 

After 40 odd years of teaching French

When into your plans came a monkey wrench.

A strange sudden hoarseness that would not go away

They found the cancer in one of your lungs in April; the cruelest month

Despite chemo and radiotherapy by summer it had gone to your brain

By December you were on home oxygen, by the 22nd you were gone

Your spirit flying freely to a land of everlasting dawn.

And though the tears they flood my eyes, wet and overflowing

I take comfort in knowing, that like in Joni's song about clouds, 

We finally said I love you, over and over, right out loud.

And if melancholy ever threatens to overwhelm 

I'll take a memory trip back to the old  days,

When we were rough and tumble brothers in a green and brick house,

A little past the middle of Braxton Hill.

I can close my eyes and concentrate and conjure it up still.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SO GRATEFUL TO HAVE BEEN HERE

SO GRATEFUL TO HAVE BEEN HERE

(FOR MY BROTHER THOM) 

So grateful to have been here, to have walked Earth's joyful mile,

To have tasted both the love and fear, to celebrate the tear and smile.

To have held the hand of many a friend, to have held my lover sweet and fine,

So grateful to have been here, for the rose and for the wine.

The universe has loosed its purse strings, like manna falling from the skies,

The eagle soars and spreads its wings, and like the eagle I will fly.

So grateful to have been here, just like Fortune's favorite son,

I've had my share of pain and cheer, have tasted both like everyone.

I am richer for the struggle, I am grateful for the pain,

I have seen the keenest rainbows, in the sky after a summer rain.

I can tell you life is sweet and though I'm sometimes sour,

I move my feet to a hopeful beat, I trust in my own power.

At this time in bleak midwinter when we pause in thoughtful mood

I join the ranks and give my thanks with praise and gratitude.

For this magical, mighty moveable feast,

Times tossed in turmoil, days peppered with peace.

I say a humble sacred prayer, for hearts encumbered everywhere,

For in the midst of fear and strife, there is promise of new life.

Let us seize it while we can, each precious grain of sand

That pours forth from the hourglass, let us taste life while it lasts.

For me life may be winding down, who really knows for sure?

All we are promised is the now, the present moment is the cure.

The antidote to sorrow and to things that could have been,

No one knows the Master's plan, when life begins and ends.

So grateful to have been here, for the elements of style,

For the passion and the fashion alive in every smile.

To have been around for just awhile, to have tasted cool fresh air,

To have known the rush of ecstasy, the downward spiral of despair.

I have known it all and cherished each measured, sacred breath,

When all it has been said and done, I will have tasted death.

I will have crossed to the other side and seen God's precious face,

Joined with those that have passed before me to this special place.

Happier for the lives I touched in my precious time on earth,

Happier still that they touched mine with merriment and mirth.

Richer for the days gone by, for the privilege of a lifetime,

So grateful to have been here, for the rose and for the wine.

-Bruce Potts

Revised Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

FLIM FLAM

FLIM FLAM

Here comes again the flim flam man,

With his tired racist tropes and his orange tan.

Fascist Don with his spewing of hate,

Blowing a lot of smoke as of late,

No friend to women or LGBTQ.

He is quite simply playing you, stirring the pot,

With his odes he speaks to Hitler,

The democracy he forgot.

Meanwhile a woman of conscience and strength,

Provides a new way forward to save us from fascism

Here's hoping Kamala comes and kicks his sorry ass in.

And not to be impertinent, impudent or in the least verbose,

How the hell is this election the slightest bit close?.   

i've said it before, Donald, and so it must be true,

That no one does a snow job quite like you.

 

Thumpety, thumpety, thumpety, thump,

Here comes humpty dumpty Trump,

With the gall to call this land a dump,

They're eating the dogs, they're eating the cats,

He lies like a fiend with the drop of a hat.

And let's not forget JD, and his distaste for the cat ladies,

It's oh so easy and plain to deduce,

You're only worthy if you reproduce.

Here comes the fascist flim flam man,

With his trademark red tie and his bright orange tan.

His reason for running, far as I can tell,

Is to elude prosecution and time in a cell

The immigrants he disparages commit far fewer crimes than he,

The U.S .is still a melting pot, land of the brave and free.

Do not let him fool you, he's only in this for himself,

A slithering snake best left on the shelf.

Before you vote him in, it's not at all silly

To heed the words of Generals Kelly and Milley.

For just this once don't be shy, to give Kamala a try

To leave the flim flam at the door where it can rot forevermore,

And join me proud and unembarrassed,

To cast your vote for Walz and Harris.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CAVEMEN

CAVEMEN 

Once upon a time

On a whimsical Wednesday 

We lost power in our house

And were cavemen for an hour.

We ate breakfast by the flashlights on our Smart Phones,

You with your low fat granola, me with my two apples and Cheerios.

Both of us drank the kerosene coffee you'd made 

Which had barely finished brewing at the time we lost power.

(Don't worry honey, one day you'll get it just right-haha)

No lights, no television, no radio.

(Note to self- have Kyle buy batteries next time he goes shopping)

We talked on topics dear to our hearts

Our mutual admiration for Kamala, our disdain for Trump

a/k/a the man whose name shall not be spoken in this household

But alas I do digress and cavemen were not especially political creatures anyway.

The start to the morning was quite the welcome respite,

Taking the tedious sameness of my days away,

Then, all too soon the electric was back,

No longer did we need to figure out

How to manually open the garage door.

And things went back to semi normal.

You went off to hunt and gather,

Selling your meats, cheeses and salads.

I stayed back to defend our cave,

Armed with my cane and my deadly walker.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

RIVULETS

RIVULETS 

Rivulets of tears fall from my eyes,

The call of the cold, the pallor of the prize.

Either motionless as a slaughtered dove

Or dyskinetic as a discordant dream,

My destiny's clenched in fisted glove.

Salty tears in rivulets, in salty desert streams.

Dyskinetic legs that flail, arms that do the same,

I would seek my retribution if I knew just who to blame.

Easy to blame the medicine, the levodopa pills.

They cause the extra movements, but without them I'm too still,

And everyone's got something, I've no right to file complaint,

So I stay quiet as a church mouse and stoic as a saint

The rivulets flow down my cheeks, dissolving all my war paint.

Rivulets of regret surround me, the fear I've caused it all,

Insecticides that I once sprayed the reason for my downfall.

Meanwhile they're finding pesticides being sprayed near schools,

23 pesticides in children's fruit cups, it leaves me ill at ease,

A breeding ground for Parkinson's, harbinger of disease.

Those pesticides are in the air, the air we all must breathe,

 invisible to the human eye, more deadly than they seem,

They insinuate themselves into our lives,

Destroy our sleep and murder dreams

They infiltrate our precious lakes, our rivers and our streams.

Someone's got to do something, picket the factories, call the EPA,

If not we're all complicit, we're all just sitting fools,

Pesticides they have no place in our air and in our schools.

I'm raising hell and taking names, making sure no one forgets

And the tears that meander down my face, are not foreign or misplaced,

They are tears of concern for the human race, salty rivulets.

 

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-THREE

(FOR KYLE ON OUR 23RD ANNIVERSARY)

Today I stop and deem myself a very lucky man,

For you came to me when I was drowning,

And there was sand in my shoes,

Filled me to the brim with treasures I could use,

All the bombs blasting detonated and defused,

In the cool cavernous reaches of your affection.

I knew you were the one for me 23 years ago today,

I gave you my heart and never looked back.

You and I were on the fast track as lovers and as friends,

And though we've weathered many a storm 

You were always there to keep me warm,

In the winters of disease and death.

We have had our mettle tested and emerged from the rubble,

Shielded from despair and lifted out of trouble 

I want to thank you today, for always standing by me,

For being my best friend and defender and my partner in this life,

For setting my spirit free to blindly, bravely soar,

For taking me on journeys I had never been before.

I thank you for unconditionally loving me,

For helping me up after a fall, for being there whenever I called.

From cane to walker to wheelchair and the phases in between

Through all the trials and travails and troubles unforeseen.

We have built this love stone by precious stone.

I look at you and marvel just how fast the years have flown.

Though we're only getting started and I know there's more to see,

I pause today and celebrate the wondrous twenty-three.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WATCH ME AS I FLY

 WATCH ME AS I FLY

I am sure that somewhere in the back of my closet

Tossed amidst the scrapbooks and shoes,

There's my own version of Dorian Gray

The one they see and love to hate

Just watch as I disintegrate.

Before the worms inch by to have their feast,

My body will be burned to ashes 

And I shall not care in the least,

Don't be surprised when the urn topples and smashes,

What remains of me can't be contained,

However much you try,

I'll be bound for the boundless sky,

So cower and seek cover,

For I shall always linger and hover

Just behind your jealous reach

A location that cannot be breached,

Until you take your own chariot ride

To the mighty mystic other side.

In the nighttime you will hear my Dorian Gray,

And you will see him in your mind's eye.

Falling like a suicide bomber out my window,

The last vestiges of my frail old self,

And all its silly foibles and mistakes.

Will fall and will not hesitate, to crumple and disintegrate.

All my sins will be heard and forgiven,

In the kindly vestibule of heaven. 

I am sure somewhere in the back of my closet,

Tossed between the scrapbooks and the souvenirs,

There's my own version of Dorian Gray,

The one they see and love to hate,

Just watch as I disintegrate.

A man you can no more disparage,

I shall mount my grand and golden carriage,

Blaze a path across the sky, just watch me as I fly.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED