Of Rainy-Soft SunDays and Pickle Teas

sunny days are fine and dandy

for times of toil and strain

but for days of labors' ease 

I love the Sundays of rain

Can't work on those soggy days

it's too wet, what's the use

so to rest the weary self

One has the perfect excuse

Sundays that are sunny

seem somehow a little wrong

they feel busy and hectic like workdays

we should be singing a quieter song

And on this business of naming

I'll digress a bit if I may 

if it's inclement on the Sabbath

why do we call them Sun day?

but then, what shall I call them

these Sundays of moisty dark gray?

my never-poetic-except-once dad

dubbed them, nicely, a soft day

I had a shadow colored cat

she was invisible in soft day rain

and she only reappeared 

when the sun day came again

my sweet soft day cat

by the name of Misty Blue

in her little coat of fog

camouflaged by cloud and dew

foggy dew cat went to heaven 

as so many dear pets do

my dad is there with her

now I have folks and cats anew

My now people love soft days too

from the tallest to the small

to wonder talk on a wander walk 

might be our favoritest time of all

down drizzly dunewood trails

with notes of sand, fir and pine

we're tented from the rain

in our evergreen tree shrine

Soft days are also for read-alouds 

such as Paddle to the Sea

around an old Formica table

with a gallon of pickles for tea 

Or in dank cellar with chocolate chips

reading Sherlock Holmes Devil's Foot 

not sure if they'd lost the plot

or if the point of reading it was moot

When on pausing to inquire Re: above

four saucer eyes and O-mouths agreed 

though each was terrified witless

the children demanded  "MOM READ!"

Such are my soft day memories  

of dills and tramps of many a mile

such joy in our shabby-happy home

when time kindly halts for us awhile

From the desks of Moishe and Mordecai

 
Meet my two black cats 

<--Moishe and Mordecai

two funny little fellows

to describe them I will try

They're quite entitled

so cocky, furry and sleek

They think we are their staff

They're not so very meek! 

But yanno I wouldn't have 

them any other way

even their naughty antics

honestly make my day

when from the shelter they came

one fine October day

they never once looked back

and never went astray

Oh sure they get the zoomies

and occasional urges to roam

Moishe wandered a bit

but he quickly came back home

it's true that Mord's a stinker

in fact he's a thieving brat

but still for all we love him

this light-pawed little cat

you always know where he is

by noises of things crashing 

as he pushes stuff off the counter

he partial to sounds of glass smashing 

and then there's us yelling

as he thuds to the floor

he somehow gets the treats

while we get the cleanup chore

he has zero conscience

we've concluded with defeat

without at least one cat-astrophe

his day is not complete

Moishe is loud and bossy

when to the basement he goes 

But he makes up for it with 

all the affection that he shows 

I've learned quite a lot

from my two kitty boys

to take my pleasures where I can

and celebrate the simple joys

So what's one jar among friends?

what's one stinky pickle-y mess?

not such a big hairy deal

if it gives them such  happiness

Mord, this is no excuse for breaking 

and at you we will still exclaim

Moishe, you'll get a scold too

as you profit from his ill-gotten gain

But it's also a lesson on battles

those worth fighting and those that are not

what counts is loved ones including cats

and we're thankful for who we got

Who do you say that i am?

Jesus asked his disciples

who do people say I am?

then he asked them again 

who do YOU say that I am?

Ostensibly he hoped to be

understood as the Messiah

unfortunately most people 

only saw him as a pariah

Was our Lord having an

identity crisis of some kind?

as in those dark hours

he struggled in his mind

I understand his pain

perhaps confusion too

it's hard to comprehend purpose

when everyone turns away from you

Who am i, I never wondered

it wasn't given me to ask

This was for others to decide

mine, the knuckling under task

So, I ask like Emmanuel

who do you say I'm supposed to be?

If Marilisa isn't good enough

You tell me then, who is she?

Is she just sister, daughter, slave?

Your minion, drudge or drone?

Evidently she's isn't meant to have

any kind of life to call her own. 

Selah. But wait...

it doesn't seem right to end 

this little ditty here

it's a pretty bleak assessment

but if I'm honest, also clear

It probably should have 

a big Halleluiah chord

some resolving great Amen

maybe that would that please the Lord?

cuz it ain't just me I don't know

I also have no idea of Him

we've talked of this before

in my odes so very grim

don't get me wrong, I'd love to end 

with promises and prayer emojis

gushy kisses and smiley hugs

but i'm fresh out of all of these 

I wish I could offer you

Vera Lynn and keep smilin thru

Dunkirk spirit and all that jazz

I'm trying to mend, and make do

I've packed up my troubles 

got me Lucifer and fag

but for all I've smiled at problems

they've worn clean thru me ole kit bag

And maybe you don't want it anyway

secret chords and cheery attitudes

maybe you don't like that kind of music

Maybe you and God hate cheezy platitudes 

if so, that's good to hear

can't we just admit it's such a bore

all i got's pukka real and honest

and honestly not much more

Acrostics for the baby grands

The humble acrostic name poems have their roots in ancient Jewish culture. Here are some for my beloved grand children. 

Juno: Joyfully crawls Under Neath and jumps Over obstacles in her way (also loves Owls)

Ezra: Extra Zesty boy, soon to be Running Around (when his broken leg heals)

Silas: Superior builder of Legos And Such (Harry Potter and Star Wars preferred)

Emmett: Enterprising alphabet Master Makes Extra Terrific Tableaus (some of them dance the can can)

Moses: Man Of STEM and Excavators and Snakes (good cook too)

Remus: Reaper and Eater of Mainly Underripe blueberry Specimens (and all around nice guy)

Lucian: Looks at life Upside-right, slightly off-Center, Inside-out and Near to far

Henry: Happy-go-lucky with ENdlessly Renewable energY (former pirate lover)

Milo: Much in Love with O-Gauge (particularly steam engines, please)

Lola: Lovely dancer Of baLlet Arabesque (and prima artiste)

Flora: First fairy Lady of the Realm of All-knowing (all-seeing, too)

Maximus: Madly And eXtremely Interested in Matters Under Shirts ( with a cute tongue wiggle to boot!)

For the Love of Alyssum

our backyard won't win prizes

in House Beautiful magazine

it's ragamuffin and hodgepodge

no manicured look to be seen 

we let weeds wander as they will

why we should kill them anyway?

I'd rather just let them be

and sweet alyssum always makes my day

Weeds deserve sun too

so my alyssum gets her spot

who are we to dictate

who gets to live and who does not?

grampa used so say

if its green let it grow

after all what's a yard for

but a place to live life slow?

It's not a showplace for the crowd

just a space for kids to play

and lots of peeping people

will only get in the way

if perfection's all we're chasing

we'll go right out of our wits

when all those tramping tourists

trample our perfection to bits

just look at Holland's tulips

to festival folks come to gawk

there are police to guard them

but some tulips still take a walk 

(Emma Grace...😏😉)

I wouldn't even want perfection

who defines those perfect bowers?

one woman's yard of weeds 

is another's garden flowers

All are welcome in my yard

I'm happy with my flower weeds

my weedy alyssum cheers me

would you like some joy seeds? 

--dedicated to everyone who loves alyssum and the weeds she grows on

Mea She'arim and me

 (This isn't a poem as much as an essay or mind  meandering.)

I watched a video on a place called Mea She-arim. I thought about those religious Jerusalem Jews. With the Haredi, I've little in common. But that I did not choose. 

We're worlds and miles apart. But in some ways, I think a lot as they. I'm faithful, steadfast and true. I never fit in either. Perhaps I just envy their tight-knit way.

I wish I had the what they have. I don't mean the tallit or furry hat. I'm born again Catholic, plus I'm a girl. And happy to be that. 

The part I covet is family. Not covet but I think you see. The value they place on their kids. Compared to how little mine thought of me. 

I ponder their collective closed community. Requests for modesty on the wall.  All for one and none singled out.  Was not my experience at all. 

Signs to cover what's private. To protect the kids was the purpose of those. What I had was rules for me, not thee. I wore funny dresses, she donned the hooker clothes. 

(so maybe this will be in verse)

So no, not covet. I'm not jealous of the orthodox, as such. I don't want to take what they've got. I just wish I had had as much. 

It isn't about them, it's the family circle. I would have liked to be part of a chain.  A vital, important and loved Not kicked out and left in the rain. 

To be united with out  arms linked. To be kept safe within the loop. Enfolded, enclosed, connected. Part of, not separated from the group. 

It would have been so nice to look out the window, to be sheltered from the rain. I bet it was warm inside peering out. I know it was cold outside, pressing my face to the pane. 

A dialogue for one voice and chorus

there was a song that I recall

how can we keep from singing? 

about a God and love and a rock

to which they all were clinging

well I don't know the words

Or to what I should cling

I don't know this God they speak of

so of what am I supposed to sing?

Of all God's love and mercy

for you he's done a lot

he's redeemed and saved you

you miserable, ungrateful clot

I do give thanks, I promise

I do sing or at least I try

but whenever I open my mouth

nothing comes out but a cry

tsk, we sing like angels 

to our God above

with pure and perfect pitch

about his wonderous love

you croak like a sleep talker

you must be insincere

only a fraud would fail 

our God's sweet voice to hear

I'm trying to hear like you

but proud voices drown the sound

You're so very loudly singing

it makes my poor head pound

what are you talking about?

you make no kind of sense

we all understand God perfectly

it must be Satan makes you so dense?

I know you're righteously certain

you never question or doubt

but then you've never had to fear  

for no reason being kicked out

Well you've just admitted 

And that just proves us right

your fear overcomes your faith

while our virtue is shiny bright

(sexy guitar riff)

it wasn't a rock that saved me

I have no idea what did

there was never any rock there

and the lifelines all were hid

oh don't be so melodramatic

It couldn't have been that bad

you're too sensitive and showing off

just ignoring all the good you had

If this is what admitting gets me

maybe I should keep it hid 

if asking for help gets shame

maybe it would be better if I did

yes please do, it's pathetic

or better yet admit you're wrong

This isn't shame that is speaking

it's deserved guilt choking your song

but where and why and how

what exactly have I done?

If I knew, I'd gladly admit

whatever terrible thing I'll shun

You should have read your bible

our precious Lord will show

all your wretched vile and bile

he'll make damned sure you know

But I've gone to the word, I cried

I found no malice nor comfort there

only love he had for some people

apparently none of whom were Mar

and before you ask I went

to mountain, desert and dell

I couldn't find my friend there either

have I missed him again, please tell?

If you don't get it yet, we're done

we've reached the end of our rope

you're stubborn, stupid and blind 

of teaching you we have no hope

Oh please don't give up

though shaming you all are

you're all I have to guide

please don't pull away the spar

Tell me of this God you know

help me find him  oh please

I am seeking and not finding 

I'm cold and starting to freeze

Good grief, it's not rocket science

unless he is hiding from you ?

wait, what did you do to offend him

what awful thing did you do?

I try to see him, I do

I look and I call and I pray

but whenever I think I see him

he just seems to slip away

You don't pray enough then

if his face you cannot find

since we can always see him 

it's you who must be blind

perhaps you're right, it's me

the story is always the same

I must have failed him too

I'm the problem, fault and blame

Now you have us confused

fix us another drink

you accept the fault and yet

we still don't know what to think

I just meant I really didn't hide

if you'll just listen you'll see

Like I said, I didn't turn on him

he was always hidden from me

(loud, slightly tipsy chorus voices)

Okay now we're seriously pissed

both the angry AND drunk kind

hidden, oh please, just stop

we're losing our collective tiny mind

(in child tone, sotto voce)

My friend was hidden by them

yet I think he wanted me to see

they all tried to block him

to keep me from him and him from me

(fading light on voice) 

(growing light on chorus as if in rising anger)

oh don't you dare frame others

when you're the one to blame

You must have done something wrong

else why would you feel this shame?

(chorus, in increasingly slurred speech)

how can you ashk such things

such wickedness and shin

how dare you turn your back

and schnub your nose at Him?

(meanwhile, voice has left the building)

(chorus slightly sobering up)

if no one feels ashamed 

and everyone claims to see

then no one has hid him from you

what a fekkin liar you've proved to be

you'll go to hell, you freak

that's all that's left to do

you've abandoned God 

now he has no use for you! 

(chorus, realizing voice had gone) 

Moron! idiot! come back

don't you walk outta here

we're the ones to who'll be walking 

out on you, my dear

we don't know you nor want to

we've no wish to be tainted

we've closed ranks and you're stuck

in this hellhole corner you've painted

(chorus fades out in mumbled, drunken meanderings)

(spotlight on voice, rising again)

Hello, It's me still drowning

to quote another song

still apparently feathered and tarred

still apparently wrong

my ship is sinking fast

faster than I ever thought it could

none of them came to rescue

did I ever think they would?

but as I go to earth 

may I attempt one last stand

If I can't convince the hakken-krakks

can I at least make you understand?

So bear with me as I ponder

it's just starting to coalesce

maybe I got it all wrong ( I hope)

maybe I was enough, not less

perhaps it wasn't God I saw (and missed)

an imposter played his part

someone pretending to be him

to fool me from the start

when all you've known of parent

is a mother distant and cold

when papa doesn't love you 

there's no heavenly father to behold

Could it be, I couldn't know God?

Cuz they said he was wrong side right

Was I  fooled by the wrong one?

So's I'd never feel His warming light

maybe it wasn't the real God 

that was pushing me away

now I come to recall someone 

was always blocking my way

the more I think, I think

the more I see, I see 

the God who loves those people 

might, in point of fact, love me?