Saturday, October 20, 2012

EVERY NOTE OF LIFE

EVERY NOTE OF LIFE
       (FOR KYLE)

Every note of life rings happy,
Every song of hope rings true,
Every line I write seems sappy,
All because of you.

Every taste of love is sweet.
Since you crossed my threshold.
Every kiss from you a treat,
That welcomes me into the fold.

You with your industrial strength vaccuum,
Your moist and succulent granite wipes.
You and your funny kitchen broom,
You are so totally my type.

Every dance of dreams is golden,
Since I found you years ago,
To you I am alas beholden,
And you melt my tears like winter snow.

Some day when I can't move at all,
And all my parts they slip and sag.
Just vaccuum me up without a thought,
Then empty and replace the bag.

Then put my ashes on the mantel,
Live pure and chaste the rest of your days.
For I'll be watching from my perch,
And I'll point out your errant ways.

I'll frown at every man you bring home,
Jinx your every affair,
Until a suitable period of mourning,
And then perhaps I shall not care.

For I want you always to be happy,
That your every song of hope ring true.
I want your love life to be sappy,
With your partner fine and new.

For you gave me love so sweet and tender,
Ever since you graced my stairs,
And you have stayed when hope was slender,
Chased away a world of cares.

You and your industrial vacuum,
You and your golf club shoe horn,
You whistle me a happy tune,
And lend a smile to every morn.

You have made this life worth living,
You and your heart of rugged steel.
And filled my soul with sweet thanksgiving,
My sure companion at the wheel.

You have filled my world with such confetti,
With the colors bright of every hue,
A heaping plate of pasta, a lasagna or spaghetti,
Seasoned with marinara or a dash of Ragu.

You are every breath I breathe,
Every hope to which I cleave.
Your body's like a county fair,
With cotton candy everywhere.

You are my one and only man,
My circus and my caravan.
My friends are all aghast to see,
That someone loves a freak like me.

As long as you stay, it's a happy day.
I'm like Lazarus raised from the dead.
You love with such ease a brain so diseased,
A horn on each side of my woebegone head.

Every love song has its story,
Every partnership its song,
Ours is one of lasting glory,
Since the day you came along.

Every note of life rings happy,
Every song of hope rings true.
Every line I write seems sappy,
All because of you.

-Bruce Potts
 Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Saturday, October 13, 2012

IMAGINED SLIGHTS

IMAGINED SLIGHTS

What's one more imagined slight,
In the great grand scheme of things?
What's one more benign betrayal,
To add to my roster of broken dreams?

I feel rain with every breath I take,
Pain with every move I make.
Gracelessly I take up space,
Sand in my sneakers, egg on my face.

If the world hands me life, I hand it back.
The lust to go on I sorely lack.
If the whole world doesn't love me,
My heart it hastily hits the floor.
Detractors they stand high above me,
Useless debris washing up on their shore.

I am proud of who I am and proud of all I believe.
I dare to live my life out loud,
But I wear it all on my lonesome sleeve.
Not nearly as stable and staid as I seem,
Stripped naked and bare to the world's laser beam.

What's one more imagined slight,
In this dim house of mirrors known as my mind?
What's one more benign betrayal,
Downloaded in real time?

The garish clown with his floppy shoes,
The tabloid with its shocking news.
The circus tent is up and its freakish flag is flying.
My mascara it is running from the desperate tears I'm crying.

If I had a million dollars and a thousand screaming fans,
Like castles and like daydreams, I would turn it all to sand,
Real estate a bauble and mansions not worth the land.
Read my palm, my lifeline's weak,
The future's a cliffside, slippery and steep.
It's a raging tide I swim against,
My only relief the deep peace of sleep.

It's all of these imagined slights that gather in my brain,
A vast right wing conspiracy, a swift downpour of rain.
Guilt for the life I can no longer lead,
A hapless hemophiliac enjoying the bleed.
Choking on this surfeit of wasted space,
I stumble to the finish of my sluggish race.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Note: I jokingly call this one "The Joy of Paranoia".

Saturday, October 6, 2012

OCTOBER BREEZE

OCTOBER BREEZE

Not a fan of global warming,
But I love these Indian summer days.
When the air blows bright with promise,
And the trees, a panoply of color sway.

A couple months before the winter snows,
Autumn in full bloom she blows,
Before smoke curls from neighbors' chimneys,
I rejoice in the October breeze.

And grateful breathe in life so sweet,
A hopeful never ceasing treat.
If you are as wise as me,
Believe in God’s eternity,
And other lives that pass unseen,
That flicker grand across the screen,
My radar tuned and piercing,
As the clear crisp autumn sky.
Give me a few more days like these,
And a happy man I’ll die.

Once in dreams I sailed the ocean,
Once in dreams I sailed the deep,
And my dream turned into a nightmare,
Bruised and broken was my sleep.

When I woke the heat index had peaked
And at great long last my fever broke.
My mother, she appeared beside me,
In the puffy clouds she rose and spoke.
On a mythic hillside, in the hallowed air,

I could see her clear as day and feel her spirit everywhere.
She said welcome sweet son, to life everlasting,
To the land of rest and sacred song.
It was the moment I’d been waiting for,
My wretched whole life long.

Yet something still was out of place,
As I beheld my mother's face,
The clouds they parted and I could see,
The world below was calling me.
Once more I regained composure,
Forced back tears, began to smile,
Saw it was not yet time for closure
For me to walk that long last mile.
  
Still I managed one more time to forestall paradise,
My mother said, my son go back.
I heeded well her sage advice,
Fell back to earth through heaven’s crack.
Landed back in that womb of sleep,

Found the vision that I lacked,
There upon that hillside steep.

The wisdom from that dream hard won,
I woke beneath a welcoming sun,
To find a Fate I thought so cruel,
Yielded me to autumn’s cool.
The bright of gold and crimson leaves,
The beauty of the season blazed,
A time for bringing in the sheaves,
Here in my star-kissed dwindling days.

Not a fan of what we’ve done to our sweet Mother Earth.
But I love these Indian summer days that echo with rebirth.
A panoply of colors sweet that thrill me to the core,
The first time in a long time I have felt my spirit soar.

This fine and princely kingdom, this bright and bitter place,
The colors all of the blessed fall, this brief respite of grace.
A couple months before the winter snows,
The autumn in full bloom she blows.
Before smoke curls from neighbors' chimneys,
I rejoice in the October breeze.

--Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT

SERENADE OF TWILIGHT The stars in your eyes, love, I tried them on for size. They shone as bright as diamonds, how they mesmerized. And when...