Troblems and Prubles

Troblems and Prubles
Come waddling westward
Biting at heels
With hatreds and zeals
With monkeyshine monies
And sugars and honeys
With dripping loose lips
That have sunk many ships

Troblems and Prubles
Rustle on rooftops
Hiding in walls
With muffled catcalls
With something to say about
Any and everything
There is no sin
That they will not swim in

Troblems and Prubles
Have answers for everything
Sing out of key
But they sing with such glee!
With choruses chiming
And words out of rhyming
And now they are saying
Goodbye with a grin
Because we all know
They will be back again

© LW Publishing 2015

My Dreams Have Gone To Sleep

My dreams have gone to sleep.
The television, off,
sitting expectantly,
and the iron,
and the lights,
so sure of another day.
The kitchen sighs,
refrigerator hum,
and the furnace,
urging me to be still.
Go to sleep.
But I feel my way
in the dark.
I know this house.
Eyes closed,
I could dance in this
absence of light and
who would know?
The feel of the carpet
under my feet.
In the beautiful
silence.



© LW Publishing 2010

An Ideal Place

Due diligence dances
down at the meat market.
Coffee in the morning or
whatever way is customary.

Say, “talk to me.”

Yes.

Tell me how you really feel,
if you know,
you know what that is?

That is your life.

Take any normal set
of old playing cards.
Take any old
phonograph record.

I didn’t know that
you were afraid.
It’s just the water,
and the sound of the fan
in the freezer,
and the spot
on the Formica
that has defeated me.

It takes so little,
so little time,
so little money,
but I shouldn’t
have any trouble.

There is always
that book of matches
in the drawer,
right next to
the steak knives.

There is, of course,
always an ideal place.



© LW Publishing 2010