The Old Elephant and Sirius

Image via Wikipedia

Dust rose
into the air as the elephant shuffled along,

With every
step she sang a traditional song,

A song she’d
heard long ago as an elephant child,

A song she
hadn’t thought about in quite awhile,

 

“As I travel
on my way I’ll chant every word,

I’m too old
to stay with the elephant herd,

The Elephant
Graveyard will be my resting place,

No more
lions or crocodiles will I face,

 

Death is
close, I can feel it in my bones,

I must
remember the placement of the stones,

Thousands of
my ancestors have come this way,

I must join
them, perhaps this very day,”

 

A gruff
voice interrupted the elephant’s reverie,

“Where are
you going? You can walk with me,”

She had not
noticed the wild dog loping by her side,

He asked, “Do
you need a friend in whom you can confide?”

 

He’d heard
elephants go somewhere when they’re old or sick,

He was sly,
that wild dog, and he thought of a trick,

“I only want
to help you,” he said, “don’t get me wrong,

But didn’t I
just hear you chanting a song?”

 

He urged her, “Perhaps your destination you’d like to share,”

“If I told
you I’d have to stomp you,” she said with an angry stare,

He knew she
was old and he lost his sense of fear,

But he made
a mistake when he thought she couldn’t hear,

 

He mused
aloud, “I know why she’s walking here all alone,

If I follow
her, I could discover a lot of precious bones,

A veritable
treasure trove I might share with my pack,

They’d have
a lifetime supply, no bones would they lack,”

 

She listened
carefully as he made his evil plan,

He didn’t
care if it was the elephants’ sacred land,

By then she’d
heard enough from that greedy dog,

She hurled
him far, just like he was a tiny log,

 

Some say he
never returned, nor did he ever die,

Some say he
watches for bones way up in the sky,

They call
him Sirius, the dog that once took flight,

Sirius, the
Dog star, the brightest star at night.

 

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Vanity Is a Balloon

Image via Wikipedia

I feed on
praise,

It holds
power to make me smile,

It eases my
loneliness for awhile,

But vanity
is a balloon full of air,

It lifts me
up and then isn’t there,

Criticism
and rejection pierce my balloon,

Back to earth
I tumble soon,

Dreading the
ridicule of one or two,

I impose
self limits on what I do,

I want
applause,

But not if I
have to freeze my heart,

Caging my
integrity right from the start,

I’ve made a
decision to do what is right,

So I can
look in a mirror and sleep at night,

I’ll stand
alone if I need to be,

Standing for
truth and human dignity,

I’m a long
way from perfect as you can see,

And I can’t
be you and you can’t be me,

While I
struggle to control my vanity,

I’ll try to
help others and love tenderly.

 

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The Doe and Two Fawns

Image by Putneypics via Flickr

The doe
grazed in grass deep and lush,

While nearby,
partially hidden by the brush,

Two fawns
had melted into quiet shadows,

Yet in the open only their silhouette showed,

 

The doe’s
ears flickered towards a slight sound,

And she was
ready to leap and forward bound,

Her white
tail the signal that she was aware,

Of any intruder
that chanced passing there,

 

But it was two
squirrels chasing round a tree,

Engrossed in
their game, racing wildly,

The doe
watched only for a moment or two,

Then
realized danger was unlikely to ensue,

 

Cautiously
she walked to where the fawns lay,

They rose on
wobbly legs, born the previous day,

Hungrily
they nursed till they had their fill,

Then
followed the doe around the hill,

 

They often
came to play in that quiet lea,

And their
spots faded very gradually,

Months later
when they chose to reappear,

Instead of
one doe there were three deer,

 

I’m sure now
there are several little deer,

That passed
beneath my window here,

But that
first excitement of fawns in the brush,

While the
doe grazed in grass deep and lush,

 

Are still
portrayed in a picture I took,

And someday
I’ll include them in a book,

Where they
become part of my story,

And nature
is extolled for all its glory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Moses and George

Image via Wikipedia

Moses and George

Moses was just
a young hound,

Not good for
much but eating biscuits,

And left
over scraps lying around,

But he was already
the best tracker,

If something
needed to be found,

 

His nose was
insured by Lloyds of London,

A guarantee
that his nose would always work,

So when the
circus lost an elephant,

Moses was called, a case he would not shirk,

 

Now an
elephant is really hard to lose,

There’s no
place to hide with ease,

And George,
the name of this elephant,

Whenever it
was dusty he had a penchant to sneeze,

 

Moses
started at the main ring of the big top,

The very last
place George was seen,

He
definitely caught the scent of George,

George
needed a bath or two, if you know what I mean,

 

Moses might
have been sidetracked,

By all the
circus sounds and smells,

For he lost
the scent of George right away,

And it took
awhile to pick up the trail,

 

Now George
had not been kidnapped,

He wanted to
have a leisurely bath,

He could
have jumped into a swimming pool,

But he didn’t
want to draw anyone’s wrath,

 

Moses found
George in the river,

Submerged and
swimming around,

George
looked surprised to see Moses,

“I’m not
ready yet to be found,”

 

Moses agreed,
sometimes it’s good to be alone,

It was hot
that day and just right for a swim,

Moses went upstream a few yards,

Before he
decided to jump in,

 

George
confided he was tired of circus life,

Long days
and getting up at dawn,

Moses
listened to George’s plight,

He was
courteous, not even one yawn,

 

Moses and
George became friends from the start,

Their appearances
were very different,

But they
were alike in their hearts,

They didn’t
play the same kind of games,

But they
could be friends just the same,

 

Hide and
seek doesn’t give George a thrill,

And Moses
won’t play squish,

They still
sit and talk sometimes,

And get in a
game of Fish,

 

They’re both
happy to have the perfect friend,

Someone to
share with, someone who’ll listen,

And now they’ve
formed a detective agency,

How well
they do, who knows,

But they expect
to solve a lot of cases,

One has a great memory and the other has a great nose.

 

 

Expressions of All Sorts

Image by The Consortium via Flickr

“I’ve never
painted whispers,” the wizened man said,

”I’ve
painted snickers, smirks, and odd smiles,

And a few
frowns that were handed down,

But
whispers?” he carefully scratched his head,

 

“Oh, but I’ve
drawn a few curses screamed aloud,

Maybe that
will make up for the difference,

I don’t want
to be thought to have less than all,

I thought I
had captured every expression in the crowd,”

 

“Oh, no, you
missed some,”  so wisely  I proclaimed,

“Besides
whispers there are snorts, expressions of all sorts,

I don’t
think you saw with clarity in the great hall,

For you
missed the silent scream, and you will be blamed,”

 

“You’ll never
paint again, your reputation was at stake,”

I looked at
him with practiced disdain, a withering look,

But he
ignored me, painting my expression rapidly,

Refusing to
let me see, “Sir that would be a mistake,”

 

“Whatever
expression I draw the owner is doomed to wear,

There is
magical power in what I paint,

If you saw
this painting you might faint,

So be
careful with the words you choose to swear,”

 

“So you dare
threaten me, the king’s own son,”

I laughed
loudly, a horselaugh, and called for the guards,

But they
approached and fled, then left me alone,

And in a
mirror I could see the wizened man had won,

 

“So if you
are wondering why behind a curtain I hide,

While I tell
you of a man who didn’t paint whispers,

Let’s just
say I’ve learned to treat others with respect,

And I keep
any rude facial expressions inside.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Ocean Is Calling Me (Part 3)

Image via Wikipedia

 

Over time
Caleb’s spirit had worn down,

With the
loss of his wife little joy could be found,

He was
filled with conflicts, filled with doubt,

He felt his
heart and soul getting ripped out,

He could
forget the promises he said he’d keep,

Yet in the
evenings he was drinking long and deep,

Only the
ocean gave him reasons to try,

While his
memories continued to make him cry.

Caleb and
the two women drank and talked, exchanging names, dreams, and their stories.  The women, Mary and Linda, were long time
friends who had met and bonded in high school.
They lived next door and shared life together. They scheduled their
workouts at the same gym, worked at the same bank, and were always there for each
other in times of stress or emotional trauma.

Both were
single, but not by choice. Mary was divorced and Linda was widowed. Both had
lost a man to the sea.  Mary’s husband
had sailed off four years ago and had never returned. She waited a couple of years
and then quietly got a divorce. Linda had invited her into her home as a guest,
the least she could do for her friend.
Three months later their roles were reversed and Mary was doing the
comforting.  Linda’s husband died when an
ocean swell, a rogue wave, flipped his fishing boat and he drowned before
rescuers could get to him. As Linda mourned and Mary comforted her, their bonds
intensified.

The women
ignored rumors that they were more than friends.  They needed each other for emotional support
as well as financial support.  Night
after night they had cried in each other’s arms, and often went out to dinner
or to the movies. This night was different.
They were tired of being home, repeating the same routines.  They ventured out on an impulse, just for a
drink or two, and promised each other they’d return before it was too late.

Caleb shared
his story about heading to the flatlands, falling in love, and then losing his
wife.  He explained how he had to get
back to the ocean before he went crazy.
After a while Caleb insisted it was time for him to leave, not because
he was tired, but because he was afraid he would break promises he had made to
himself.

“Linda,
Mary, it’s been a real pleasure sharing this table.  I think it’s time for me to go.”

Linda raised
her glass and said, “One round for the road.”
Then Mary added, “One round to salute your wife’s memory.”

Caleb
thought both toasts were reasonable and well deserved. The night blurred and
faded and with the help of Linda and Mary he stumbled out into the
darkness.  He had forgotten his
promises.  He was past the point of
caring.  He was with two beautiful women
who were his friends.  They had been the
only ones he had allowed himself to share memories of his wife and his
attraction for the sea.  They walked him
back to their house and told him he could sleep on the couch.  He didn’t remember getting undressed.  What he did remember was the tide coming in,
the relentless pounding of the surf, the acceptance of the sand, and the
excited murmurs of the ocean breeze that continued throughout the night.

Caleb woke
with a start.  His mouth was dry and his
head was pounding.  Sunlight streamed
through the windows.  A leg was over his,
an arm across his chest.  He shifted
slightly and then struggled to sit up. He was confused and disoriented.   Where
was he?  What time was it? Was he
dreaming?  Was he back at the flatlands
with his wife? “I’m dreaming,” he thought. “I can feel her next to me just like
before.”  The thought was rather pleasant
and he slowly sank back into his pillow, content and ready to dream for awhile.

Reacting to his movements Mary snuggled
against his chest and sighed contentedly.   The warmth of her body brought back all the
memories of his wife and the flatlands.
His hands and lips caressed her face, her neck, and her breasts. He
didn’t dare open his eyes for fear that this dream would end.  After his wife died she often appeared in his
dreams but he didn’t remember her ever feeling this real.  They made love slowly at first, then passionately.

He rolled onto his side and opened his
eyes.  For the second time he was
confused.  The curtains, windows, and
walls looked real.  His clothes were
neatly folded on a chair next to another set of clothes.  His mind was suddenly alert. “Women’s clothes!”  This was real! It was not his imagination!

Just as he was starting to push himself up, a
woman lay down beside him, pinning him against a body on his other side.  “I was going to make breakfast for us but I
think it can wait.”

She looked
familiar but his mind had already played tricks on him.  Caleb’s mind whirred and he remembered
meeting her.  This woman was Linda. She
was with Mary.  Linda and Mary.  They had drinks with him and he vaguely
remembered walking with them to their house.
Now everything was coming into focus.

Linda was pressing against him, moving her
hips suggestively.  He started to protest
but already he was responding, moving in an age old rhythm.  When their lovemaking was over, he collapsed,
spent and exhausted.  He studied Linda
carefully and then turned to Mary, who was sleeping.  He looked back at Linda, his eyes filled with
questions.

Before he could ask anything Linda said
admiringly,   “O.k., cowboy, how long has
it been since you were with your wife? You were sure needy last night. You
weren’t shy with either of us.”

Caleb
reddened.  “You’re embarrassing me.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I apologize for my behavior.”

“Don’t
apologize.  You were what I needed. No,
Mary needed you, too.  It’s just been the
two of us. We’ve kept each other company and we thought we didn’t  need a man.
I think we were wrong. We’ve been shut up too long, away from friends
and family.  You’re like a breath of
fresh air and we’re glad you’re here.”

“I’m not sure
how long I can stay.  I’ll be looking for
a job tomorrow and the next day and keep looking until I find one.”

Hearing
Caleb’s voice, Mary’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh, my!  You weren’t what I expected at all.  I’ll give you five stars. Your wife was a lucky
woman.” She paused and corrected herself. “Oh, I meant with you.”

(To be
continued)

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M. Y. O. B.

Image via Wikipedia

“Matter of
fact,” she said sternly,

“I
like doing things my own way,

If you’re not here to help,

I don’t care what you say,

If you’re not making things easier,

Then get out of my way,”

“You’ve got
your nose where it’s not wanted,

You’ve put in your two cents worth,

You think you’ve got the answers,

To all the questions on earth,

But
until someone wants your opinion,

All those answers are just good for
mirth,

“Own up to your
mistakes before you fix mine,

You’ve been a crusader all down the line,

You’re known as Miss Goody Two Shoes,

And I think that’s just super fine,

But when you start judging others,

Then you’re totally out of line,”

“Before you
dismiss everything that I’ve told you,

Don’t
worry about how computer viruses infest,

Your pictures turned up everywhere, I
guess,

Those were interesting pictures of your
chest,

And those men had hungry looks in their
eyes,

But I won’t say anymore, you know the
rest,

Don’t meddle
in my business, just leave me alone,

I don’t need
your judgments, my life is my own,

I’m not a
miscreant, but even if that were true,

I’ll straighten
my life out, it’s not up to you.

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Discovering the Magic of Love

Cover of Away from Her

Her hair I would gently brush,

Away from
her beautiful face,

I would claim with kisses,

Each and
every place,

Those
succulent lips have drawn me,

To sip and
taste at will,

But I would
not, could not stop,

Until I had
my fill,

I would kiss
her neck,

And taste
her golden breasts,

I would have
her softness,

Pressed
against my chest,

I would have
her warmth,

Prepare for
me a nest,

Waiting for
her heat to rise,

Becoming
molten lava just for me,

Pulling me
in, surrounded by love,

And reaching true ecstasy,

And in the
afterglow of passion,

Talking,
kissing, touching,

Discovering
the magic of love.

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If I’m Only a Watcher

Image via Wikipedia

With sadness
I watch passersby,

From my
window day and night,

Going about
their daily deeds,

Not
understanding their own plight,

But I cannot
call them to shame,

For deeds
they did not do,

For my guilt
is also to blame,

If I’m a
watcher too,

If they
ignore world events,

Or crimes
next to their door,

If I’m
judging what they’ve not done,

Then I’m
even guilty more,

I turned my
head when a baby cried,

Her mother was
angry and proud,

The mother had
given the child a pinch,

Because the
baby was too loud,

I didn’t
speak when a father ordered,

His son to
fetch a beer,

But I could
see a future day,

When the son
would cringe with fear,

Who am I to
ignore world events,

Or crimes
next to my door,

If I’m judging what others haven’t done,

Then I’m the
guilty more.

 

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Lots and Lots of Magical Trees

Image via Wikipedia

I’ll dig and
plant and grow a shoe tree,

And all the
shoes will be for a poor country,

Where some
of the children don’t have shoes,

And most of
the world doesn’t have a clue,

About what
the children go through,

 

I’ll grow a
tree that has food and drink,

The children
need that, don’t you think?

Bloated
bellies and starvation are rarely understood,

Because the
world doesn’t share what it could,

 

I’ll grow a
tree that is filled with songs,

When children
sing, would that be wrong?

If my voice
blends with theirs all day long,

Singing will
help make hearts strong,

 

I’ll grow a
tree that is filled with money,

To change
their world into a land of milk and honey,

Instead of them
living from day to day,

Trying to
subsist on whatever comes their way,

 

I know one
tree can’t grow enough shoes,

It might
take more than three or two,

And the plant
that grows all kinds of food,

Will have to
be cloned if I could,

You can help
with the tree of songs,

We’ll join
hands and sing all night long,

The tree
with money will have to grow,

Because one
little tree can’t bestow,

Enough to
clothe, shelter, and feed,

Satisfying each
and every need,

My garden
will be large with lots of trees,

I can do
this if you’ll help me please,

If we plant
enough for a country or two,

There’s no
telling what we can do,

A world of
trees, new hopes and dreams,

A world with
compassion, and fewer regimes,

We’ll plant
and sow some magical seeds,

Then climb
up high and see what the world needs.

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