Cherita #1

31 Dec 2022

Gaze long

upon this grizzled tangled

weeping woods

no longer verdant

shrouding mist obscuring

any hint of distant spring.

This is my first foray into the poetic storytelling form created by British poet, ai li in 1997. As those who have followed my writing have seen, I have been gravitating toward short form poetry of some years. I am finding the simplicity of capturing a moment very gratifying and am excited to have come across another poetic form with in whose structure I can continue this process.

To A Tele-Marketer

Listen, tele-marketers,

Spare us all your ardent passion.

We both know what’s going on.

You needn’t speak in such a fashion.

You can not help in any way.

Your pitch is gaining zero traction.

Go on! harangue us all you like,

We won’t be taking any action.

You see, we know, that truth be told,

Despite your artless misdirection,

You are not our bosom pal;

That’s all crap. No real affection.

Your solitary interest is a monetary interest!

Don’t preach to us about compassion.

Un-Fortunate Aphorisms

* A recent meal ended with fortune cookies. Annoyed by their banality, I modified them, adding a counterpoint to make them, simultaneously more interesting and more accurate. Enjoy… or not!


A good evening

Spent here in good company:

So much worse than expected


A friend will soon bring

Monumental surprises :

None of them welcome


Random chance meetings

Opens new doors to success:

But for someone else


Don’t put all your eggs

In a solitary box:

Someone will steal it


Charity begins

And ends at home, my children:

Life don’t give a damn

Falling Ever Downward

Ink black letters

fall hesitant at first,

marking naked page tops;

Droplets unconnected yet,

by purpose or intent.

In time, their presence there,

calls others to befriend them

adding to the depth, the weight,

pressing down upon the page

until it can’t contain them.

Now the words collect

into tiny rivulets,

scrawling narrow, crawling paths

seemingly at random,

As they come together

deepening their paths

like magnets on the march,

they gather others to them

weaving into deeper streams,

memes, ideas, and images.

And their power, thus enhanced,

they carve deeper furrows,

altering the landscape.

Flooding dusty fallow fields,

nourishing their blooming.

Onward, broader, faster now,

filled with surging portents,

deep with hidden meaning,

challenging all in their path

overtopping every bank

undermining old foundations

sweeping clean all obstacles

built by aged machinations

leaving clear and fertile fields

for future generations.

At last this surge comes to merge

with the vast and loving breast

of that bottomless expanse;

the never resting endless sea

we name our deep subconscious.