Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

he means his cat

01 August 2013

he means his cat … right?

 

She’s fat, and lazy, and eats

and sleeps almost all the time,

scratches everything BUT

her brand new, catnip-enhanced

super deluxe scratching post.

She sheds tons of hair each day,

climbs the curtains after birds,

or any shadow that moves,

stinks no matter what I try,

begs for anything I eat,

wakes me up when she wants fed,

no matter what time it is,

doesn’t like to be picked up,

or held unless she wants it,

although she purrs all the time,

and will cuddle too sometimes.

I guess I can overlook

a few things and still love her.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment

as Congreve said

01 August 2013

as Congreve said

 

"music has charms"

some bass lines, (Another one bites the dust)

guitar riffs, (Walk this way)

certain guitar solos, (Hotel California)

a select few drummers (Neil Peart)

passionate solo piano, whether it is

labeled New Age (David Lanz)

or jazz (Diana Krall)

even some classical pieces,(theme from

The Young and the Restless ??)

emotional vocals,(Martina McBride/Independence Day)

well-crafted lyrics in any genre,

certain styles of electronic music,

mostly where less is more, (Robert Rich)

skill on almost any instrument

as long as it expresses something

more than mastery and technique,

"to soothe a savage breast."

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

not everything is a line

31 July 2013

not everything is a line

 

Why are compliments heard as lines?

Can’t someone say you’re beautiful

without hidden meanings sometimes?

Not everyone is truthful,

but neither does everyone lie.

 

Maybe you wouldn’t believe me,

because you don’t believe it’s true,

about yourself I mean, but see

if someone else compliments you

they might just mean it honestly.

 

So, gorgeous hair, beautiful eyes,

I do not mean when men get crude,

but why should I ever disguise

what I like without being rude?

Just once, I’d like to be surprised.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

someday

31 July 2013

someday

 

Maybe I will be back someday,

though we both knew it was a lie

it was just something to say

instead of goodbye.

 

though we both knew it was a lie,

saying nothing would have hurt more

instead of goodbye

as I walked out the door.

 

saying nothing would have hurt more

we already cried enough tears,

as I walked out the door —

don’t believe everything you hear.

 

we already cried enough tears,

it was just something to say

don’t believe everything you hear,

maybe I will be back someday.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

as evening falls

31 July 2013

as evening falls

 

As evening falls, once again

crickets chirp, heard, but unseen

questions which drive men insane

and I wonder what it means.

 

crickets chirp. heard, but unseen,

In the quiet, chilly air,

and I wonder what it means.

why sometimes I just don’t care.

 

in the quiet, chilly air,

I have too much time to ask

why sometimes I just don’t care

but some things I cannot grasp.

 

I have too much time to ask

questions which drive men insane

but some things I cannot grasp

as evening falls once again.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Sonnet 52

31 July 2013

Sonnet 52

 

A truckload of boxes and smaller stuff,

another for furniture is enough.

Hard to believe I am reduced to this,

but the more I discard, the less I miss.

Most of what I’ve clung to, means nothing now,

which could mean I’ve grown, but I don’t know how.

More likely, I’ve just learned to accept things

as they are, no matter what life might bring.

Sure I grumble, complain, and get depressed,

it’s hard to see any good, I confess.

But somehow I still have that naive faith

which believes there’s more than just Luck or Fate.

Change is never easy, but can be good.

Unfinished tales don’t have to be understood.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

unfamiliar

31 July 2013

 

unfamiliar

 

 

I sat down

on a bench for awhile,

in between the things I had to do.

For a moment, I had nothing to do at all,

nowhere to be, and nothing to say.

It felt strange, which just made

me feel sad.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

good to be home

31 July 2013

good to be home

 

Millions of cars and trucks,

rushing here and there,

each with its own vocabulary, its

own inner marching band blaring

from open windows.

 

A rushing stream, people rushing

here and there, chattering like

breathless auctioneers, to themselves,

to others, or just talking even though

no one is really listening to them.

 

And the constant barrage of one-sided

conversations we are forced to eavesdrop on,

and music "shared" involuntarily, cell phones

going off, and the entire rainbow of every

possible reaction and response from the

sea of humanity, from sickly sweet to

downright rude and uncalled for.

 

Maybe I am just getting old, but

I remember mom always said,

"It’s good to be home." after going

anywhere for almost any reason.

I am beginning to understand.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment

I can be funny

31 July 2013

I can be funny

 

I used to sleep with

a dictionary under

my pillow, but she could not

breathe, so she left me for a

thesaurus of course.

31 July, 2013 Posted by | Poetry | | Leave a comment