SPORKETTE

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

“SoulMusic“

by Patricia Spork

NINE YEARS

By Patricia Spork

My day started normal:
bathroom time for personal hygiene and beauty;
blinds opened in living room and kitchen;
curtains tied back at sliding glass patio door;
dishwater made to soak few dishes in sink;
fresh food and water for dogs…
Café Vienna for me.

When blinds opened,
five crows glided from one tree to another;
Patience rested on hay, while Tweety ate from the roll,
and Ferris and Fawn stood opposite sides…
sun also warming their backs.

I stepped onto back porch as RP stood,
saddled, while John brushed his mane.
From the distance, I greeted each horse by name.
Circling my legs,
Paddy, Chewy, Dozer, Maggie, Jako and Kiwi
greeted me.

These animals you do not know,
but you would have loved all…
And they, you.

Being Christmas yesterday…today,
mini-lights turned on to light Christmas tree
adorned with garland and ornaments –
some made by your sister and half-brother…and you.
Yes, I still have them…
and yes, I still hang them each year.

At the kitchen island,
I lit a two-toned blue ocean-colored candle…
in your memory.
Blue…your favorite color.
See, I have not forgotten.
Will I ever?
I hope not.

On the white-tile topped kitchen table,
I lit two tealight candles to warm and melt
Banana Bread candle “tarts”.
I watched the flames for a moment
and thought of you…yet, again.

Afterwards, I gathered
cigarette pack, lighter, coffee cup and cell phone,
and headed for the office,

where I am now…
listening to loud rock music
playing on the radio behind me,

while I’m writing this poem,
which probably isn’t really a poem,
but rather…

thoughts and actions…

going on now…

nine years after your loss…

my loss.

The music vibrates my soul, as do you.

***

Sparrow Demise

by Patricia Spork

New Year’s Day ‘09

sun obliterates glass door;

so died the sparrow

SH*T ON THE SHINGLES

By Patricia Spork

Sh*t on the Shingles for breakfast this morning—
Venison sausage, no flour…pancake mix…
And lots of milk,
With more toast on the side and strawberry preserves…
And of course, your favorite, grape jelly allure.

Missed your face at the table, but all chairs were full;
Your niece and two nephews ate enough for you, too.

Cooking and cleaning did not give respite,
As mind shifted to birthdays and tears clouded eyes—
Heart was so heavy, thought I could die.

Eight years has gone swiftly, though slower than snails;
You’d be twenty-seven if pistol had failed.

Twenty-seven.

What would extra eight years have done to your life?

I’ll never know, but for mine
—Sh*t on the Shingles—
Good name for lost time.

Copyright 2008 Patricia Spork

Whiney, Snappy, Presidential Candidates

By Patricia Spork

Whiney, Snappy, Presidential Candidates—
Just what we need to get our country straight!

Cranky, yappy, groaning, moaning,
Obama always looks so phony—
Belching spit like blared trombone,
Amongst the crowds
He thinks he owns.

Straying, swaying, huffy, puffy,
McCain’s a little fluffy yuppie,
Gruffing quiet like dying guppy—
Floundering speck in sea of cologne.

Whiney, Snappy, Presidential Candidates—
Just what we need to get our country straight!

Copyright 2008 Patricia Spork