A Breezy Look at Fans

a propeller in a cage

on hot days it’s the rage

cool air on a sweaty face

it’s wind flow to embrace

relief welcomed anyplace

a boon to the human race

their use is commonplace

freshening an enclosed space

in many a working place

the breezy fan runs a race

in households and every place

Desert of Deceit

Burnt sands cover the liescape stretching between truth and deceit buried deep in a person’s mind. A desert of deceit. Unhindered by any convention, yet still possessing a conscience that sometimes asks questions about morality and sensuality.

Falsehoods, like scorpions and snakes, strike swiftly in the seething sands of a liar’s mind whose mission is to deceive. The liar’s soul, burnt by dwelling in the bronzed wasteland of duplicity, is shriveled and crispy.

There are those who dwell in this sandy hell by choice. Content to wander dunes of deceit. Content to live a lie. Content to vilify. Souls that were born bone dry. For these nomads in society, I have no pity.

Frog Night Serenade

ribbit! ribbit!

went the big bullfrog

while sitting on a floating log

ribbit! ribbit!

in a basso tone

making the lady frogs groan

ribbit! ribbit! ribbit!

the bullfrog sang

before he suddenly sprang

ribbit! ribbit!

taking everything he had

to land smoothly on a lily pad

ribbit! ribbit! ribbit!

excited girl frogs were arrayed

waiting for the bullfrog’s serenade

ribbit! ribbit! ribbit!

sang the bullfrog under the light of the moon

while his delighted audience tried not too swoon

Riffing on Living

205 words – free verse

life in the fast lane of concrete jungles weaving through cities and states seeking altered states and the key to paradise while cities burn from fires caused by climate change and a whole range of environmental disasters brought on by corporate behemoths that breath life into Wall Street’s secrets corridors of power looking down on the average citizen nearly powerless trying to fight Goliath with a cell phone tapped by the FBI and marketers vying for the masses money in cyberspace a dangerous place where saints and sinners trumpet their wares to the unwary visitors responding to special sales for limited times – but wait there’s more – in the pursuit of happiness religions and cults seek converts with promises of saving souls and access to elite Hollywood parties where the wealthy meet to greet one another and brag about big contracts and casting beds while women fight for equality and freedom from perverted movie execs soaked in their huge egos looking for the next star in an industry of dreams where viewers suspend reality to escape a world of lies that have formed like cobwebs in our society holding the average person victim with fake news and rhetoric straight from hell and premiering near you soon.

205 words – free verse

Dial for Love

Flash Fiction 400 -words

Deuce McCutcheon went to her funeral a year ago, but was still having trouble believing she was gone forever. Freyja was the love of his life. She was the first, and only, woman who could see behind the hideous mask of his contorted face, which was a result of a terrible childhood injury.

She never hesitated to kiss his twisted lips in public or private. They were soulmates, spending endless hours talking through sleepless nights. Sharing their dreams and inner desires until exhaustion overtook them both. Their years together flew by like days as the lovers languished in the security of one anothers embrace.

As lovers often do, they talked about life after death and what they would do when the horrible time came when one was left without the other. They weighed in on his Christian Heaven, and her Norwegian Valhalla. They explored the concept of life energy moving from one host to the next. They planned elaborate ways of communicating from one realm or dimension to the survivor’s world.

But nothing worked. Deuce grew more depressed every day. On the anniversary of her death he visited her grave. Pulling out a sprig of sage he lit it and passed the smoke back and forth over her resting place. Next, he pulled out his pipe and packed it with a strain of their favorite cannabis, and puffed on it thoughtfully as he looked at her photo which he brought with him.

A thought entered his grief. Hazy and unformed. He realized that he had saved more than just photos of her. He had saved her old cell phone number. He was fumbling for his old-fashioned flip cell phone when the sun parted the dark clouds that hung over the cemetery.

Opening it, he went straight to his address book. There it was. Freyja’s phone number. The chill seemed to go away and he took his jacket off while staring at the number. He was experiencing a strange sense of peace. He pushed her number…and waited. It rang three times. Then he heard Freyja’s high voice…”I wondered when you would call,” she teased him.

The next day a ground’s keeper discovered Deuce’s body, curled up on a grave. He was still clutching his cell phone. Later when asked about his discovery by a reporter, he said, “You should have seen the smile on that guy’s face!”

Tech-Challenged Retiree’s Poetic Reverie

keeping up with 21st century technology

isn’t easy for a retiree like me

I’m in awe of the computer community

and their popularity

but I’m doomed to be a forever trainee

and not a true devotee

I say this unapologetically

it’s who I happen to be

technology does makes me happy

to a certain degree

making life less of a mystery

as the internet sets me free

with a world class library

Cat Man Do

he tries to rescue feral and lost cats every day

wandering streets and every alleyway

prepared to help any stray

that comes his way

the cat man’s house is full of felines invited to stay

he doesn’t mind his sobriquet

his cat friends never lead him astray

as he goes about his eventful day