Life love
You fit like a glove
Nudge shove
Coo of the turtle dove
Come Josephine
Wash my soul clean
Oh Josephine
We make a great team
Dear Josephine
Cold April dream
Sweet Josephine
Hot August steam
Life love
You fit like a glove
Nudge shove
Coo of the turtle dove
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Dec. 29, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Young Rene
Young Rene stepped out
Out from the museum's marble floor
Out from the toned confines
Of the gallery's walls its halls
Out into the wild world its crazy forms
Trying to recapture in words
Its raw beauty
Its refined tenderness
Like what had been depicted
By the masterpieces he had witnessed
With his own eyes
His own heart
He felt deep down to the depths of his soul
Not that he wanted to reproduce the masters
Now dead and buried
Some for hundreds of years
But that he wanted to feel a kinship
With beings who at one time felt similar to him
About his art
About his gift
About his explorations
Akin to the sensibilities
Of this collection of painters
These breakers of new ground
These front-line soldiers
Along the continuum of human expression
But how could this be accomplished
It is always so difficult to match one mode of human expression
With another
Trying to parallel the style
The grace
The touch
In a different medium
Still the expressions that their paints and strokes
Tried to capture and share
The colors the textures
It had all intrigued Young Rene
He felt overwhelmed as he stepped out
Out from the museum's marble floor
Out from the toned confines
Of the gallery's walls its halls
Out into the wild world its crazy forms
It all had imbued in him a burning desire
To capture in words
Its raw beauty
Its refined tenderness
Like had been depicted
By the masterpieces he had witnessed
With his eyes
With his heart
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Dec. 18, 2012
Out from the museum's marble floor
Out from the toned confines
Of the gallery's walls its halls
Out into the wild world its crazy forms
Trying to recapture in words
Its raw beauty
Its refined tenderness
Like what had been depicted
By the masterpieces he had witnessed
With his own eyes
His own heart
He felt deep down to the depths of his soul
Not that he wanted to reproduce the masters
Now dead and buried
Some for hundreds of years
But that he wanted to feel a kinship
With beings who at one time felt similar to him
About his art
About his gift
About his explorations
Akin to the sensibilities
Of this collection of painters
These breakers of new ground
These front-line soldiers
Along the continuum of human expression
But how could this be accomplished
It is always so difficult to match one mode of human expression
With another
Trying to parallel the style
The grace
The touch
In a different medium
Still the expressions that their paints and strokes
Tried to capture and share
The colors the textures
It had all intrigued Young Rene
He felt overwhelmed as he stepped out
Out from the museum's marble floor
Out from the toned confines
Of the gallery's walls its halls
Out into the wild world its crazy forms
It all had imbued in him a burning desire
To capture in words
Its raw beauty
Its refined tenderness
Like had been depicted
By the masterpieces he had witnessed
With his eyes
With his heart
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Dec. 18, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Antonio Astascio
He called himself Antonio Astascio
As he floated down the hill
The end of the line of Madison Park
An angelic section of Seattle
To the dock out onto Lake Washington
In full view of the floating bridge
Bridges don't float he screamed
Though only the insides of his imagination
Heard his melodiy in time
Bridges don't float he refrained
They fly they rise they hover
As he twirled and soft-shoed
Out onto the dock
Imagining it to be a stage catwalk
Out into an audience
Where he would show off his new-found dance shoes
I don't float he screamed
Though only the mirror of mirth in his imagination
Caught his inflection and guffawed
And cried
I don't float I aint no dancer I ain't no bridge
Oh sweet high stepper of these boards
Oh give me the gift to ply your planks
Oh inspire me in the performance of a lifetime
Oh help me to grace your humble yet timeless stage
With a creation appropriate to this view
The beauty of this lake
The texture of this inked cotton sky
Black and white watercolor canopy
And this contradiction from the world of science
Bridges don't float
And this contradiction from the world of art
I don't float
One-man symposium on magic convened on the spot
When he called himself Antonio Astascio
As he floated down the hill
The end of the line of Madison Park
An angelic section of Seatle
To the dock out onto Lake Washington
In full view of the floating bridge
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Dec. 9, 2012
As he floated down the hill
The end of the line of Madison Park
An angelic section of Seattle
To the dock out onto Lake Washington
In full view of the floating bridge
Bridges don't float he screamed
Though only the insides of his imagination
Heard his melodiy in time
Bridges don't float he refrained
They fly they rise they hover
As he twirled and soft-shoed
Out onto the dock
Imagining it to be a stage catwalk
Out into an audience
Where he would show off his new-found dance shoes
I don't float he screamed
Though only the mirror of mirth in his imagination
Caught his inflection and guffawed
And cried
I don't float I aint no dancer I ain't no bridge
Oh sweet high stepper of these boards
Oh give me the gift to ply your planks
Oh inspire me in the performance of a lifetime
Oh help me to grace your humble yet timeless stage
With a creation appropriate to this view
The beauty of this lake
The texture of this inked cotton sky
Black and white watercolor canopy
And this contradiction from the world of science
Bridges don't float
And this contradiction from the world of art
I don't float
One-man symposium on magic convened on the spot
When he called himself Antonio Astascio
As he floated down the hill
The end of the line of Madison Park
An angelic section of Seatle
To the dock out onto Lake Washington
In full view of the floating bridge
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Dec. 9, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Helen, Jen and Maura
Trio of white-haired ladies
Grand Dames in the beholder's eyes
Denim jackets easy walking shoes
Coffees on the common table between them
Planning out informally
Their misadventures as they loved to call them
Forays out of this their favorite haunt
Into the world of art, science and sport
Their husbands and children and grandchildren
Shaking their heads
Not so much at their tales
Brought back and retold from their treks
As from the rather eclectic menu of morsels
Choice experiences
Grown grandmothers full of life
Of course
The trio would say
Now more than ever
They'd mix opera with baseball
Ballet with soap box derby
Movies with a calculus symposium over at the university
Visiting mathematicians discussing formulas
Brushing up against the borderline with philosophy
Their favorite seasoning
Their busman's holiday
The conferees totally unaware
That this trio of white-haired ladies
This trio of visiting scholars
Had once ruled the mathematics departments
At the local middle school
High school and
Community College
Brighter many of their colleagues always thought
Fiercely bright their colleagues would say
Ivy League bright
Much brighter than folks in their positions usually are it was said
Nonsense the trio would say
You'd be surprised at how we are bright the trio would laugh out loud
Brilliance comes in all shapes and sizes
Helen had confided quietly
To her granddaughter Cassie
In whom she could see a sparkle in her eye
Helen had never before really believed in that expression
Until she saw it personified in this 13-year-old
Yes there it is yes
Helen would catch herself noticing
But now Helen would never doubt the expression
There in the sparkle in dear young Cassie's eye
Her second daughter's brightest daughter
Not that her other grandchildren weren't bright too
But this sparkle is exactly what Helen was talking about
Helen could tell for sure
From the sparkle in Cassie's eye bless her soul
Oh praise be to God
Helen knew she could believe in immortality
In her immortality
In their immortality
The trio's
Helen had once confided her findings to her confessor
And would in due time share her feelings
Her findings
Her solution to the equation
Her proof
Her faith
Share it with the other two women
Sitting at the common cafe table between them
Sitting with her favorite compatriots
Her conspirators
Her Jen and her Maura
She'd tell them that for sure
Cassie
And Jen's granddaughter Lena
And Maura's Colleen
Yes oh yes my dear sisters
These girls their generation
They would be their immortality
They'd be their continuation on nearth
They'd be the future matriarchs for generations to come
They'd carry on this magical aura
We'd coax them Jen and Maura
We must encourage them
To see the beauty in this menagerie
As their grand moms do
The grand mosaic of human expressions
The explorations
Not as mathematicians necessarily
But as artists scientists and athletes
Attempting to dig out the meanings
Of life and love and laughter and fun
Of challenge and death and heartbreak and reconciliation
Of work that is play and play that is work
And play that is nurturing and nourishing
Expressions discovered to help humans wander better
And wandering to fuel the endless wonderings better
From here to there and back again on their journey to the pool
Where the mysteries would all be revealed
Sing praise sing honor sing glory sing Amazing Grace Amen
You said it, nodded Jen when Helen finally had had enough courage to share
Ah but how asked Maura ever the practical one
Staerting next week next Friday
We'll take them to see The Mariners Friday night Helen said
Maybe eat at some exotic cuisine restaurant before the game
And for a present give them their own copies
Of Oscar Wilde's plays
Assign them one of the plays to read
Which the six of us will dissect two weeks after
In Huskies' Football stadium
When we can wander in all alone
Bring sandwiches
And feel the presence of that brilliant open-air cathedral
Doing wonders to the imagination
As big as Wilde's himself
The twinkle in her eye convinced Jen and Maura
Of the brilliance of the scheme
Trio of white-haired ladies
Grand Dames in the beholder's eyes
Denim jackets easy walking shoes
Coffees on the common table between them
Planning out informally
Their misadventures as they loved to call them
Forays out of this their favorite haunt
Into the world of art, science and sports.
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
June 22, 2012
Grand Dames in the beholder's eyes
Denim jackets easy walking shoes
Coffees on the common table between them
Planning out informally
Their misadventures as they loved to call them
Forays out of this their favorite haunt
Into the world of art, science and sport
Their husbands and children and grandchildren
Shaking their heads
Not so much at their tales
Brought back and retold from their treks
As from the rather eclectic menu of morsels
Choice experiences
Grown grandmothers full of life
Of course
The trio would say
Now more than ever
They'd mix opera with baseball
Ballet with soap box derby
Movies with a calculus symposium over at the university
Visiting mathematicians discussing formulas
Brushing up against the borderline with philosophy
Their favorite seasoning
Their busman's holiday
The conferees totally unaware
That this trio of white-haired ladies
This trio of visiting scholars
Had once ruled the mathematics departments
At the local middle school
High school and
Community College
Brighter many of their colleagues always thought
Fiercely bright their colleagues would say
Ivy League bright
Much brighter than folks in their positions usually are it was said
Nonsense the trio would say
You'd be surprised at how we are bright the trio would laugh out loud
Brilliance comes in all shapes and sizes
Helen had confided quietly
To her granddaughter Cassie
In whom she could see a sparkle in her eye
Helen had never before really believed in that expression
Until she saw it personified in this 13-year-old
Yes there it is yes
Helen would catch herself noticing
But now Helen would never doubt the expression
There in the sparkle in dear young Cassie's eye
Her second daughter's brightest daughter
Not that her other grandchildren weren't bright too
But this sparkle is exactly what Helen was talking about
Helen could tell for sure
From the sparkle in Cassie's eye bless her soul
Oh praise be to God
Helen knew she could believe in immortality
In her immortality
In their immortality
The trio's
Helen had once confided her findings to her confessor
And would in due time share her feelings
Her findings
Her solution to the equation
Her proof
Her faith
Share it with the other two women
Sitting at the common cafe table between them
Sitting with her favorite compatriots
Her conspirators
Her Jen and her Maura
She'd tell them that for sure
Cassie
And Jen's granddaughter Lena
And Maura's Colleen
Yes oh yes my dear sisters
These girls their generation
They would be their immortality
They'd be their continuation on nearth
They'd be the future matriarchs for generations to come
They'd carry on this magical aura
We'd coax them Jen and Maura
We must encourage them
To see the beauty in this menagerie
As their grand moms do
The grand mosaic of human expressions
The explorations
Not as mathematicians necessarily
But as artists scientists and athletes
Attempting to dig out the meanings
Of life and love and laughter and fun
Of challenge and death and heartbreak and reconciliation
Of work that is play and play that is work
And play that is nurturing and nourishing
Expressions discovered to help humans wander better
And wandering to fuel the endless wonderings better
From here to there and back again on their journey to the pool
Where the mysteries would all be revealed
Sing praise sing honor sing glory sing Amazing Grace Amen
You said it, nodded Jen when Helen finally had had enough courage to share
Ah but how asked Maura ever the practical one
Staerting next week next Friday
We'll take them to see The Mariners Friday night Helen said
Maybe eat at some exotic cuisine restaurant before the game
And for a present give them their own copies
Of Oscar Wilde's plays
Assign them one of the plays to read
Which the six of us will dissect two weeks after
In Huskies' Football stadium
When we can wander in all alone
Bring sandwiches
And feel the presence of that brilliant open-air cathedral
Doing wonders to the imagination
As big as Wilde's himself
The twinkle in her eye convinced Jen and Maura
Of the brilliance of the scheme
Trio of white-haired ladies
Grand Dames in the beholder's eyes
Denim jackets easy walking shoes
Coffees on the common table between them
Planning out informally
Their misadventures as they loved to call them
Forays out of this their favorite haunt
Into the world of art, science and sports.
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
June 22, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
It Had Gotten To The Point
It had gotten to the point
Where his wife wouldn't dance with him
Unless he promised not to raise his arms
That way
It was embarassing she said
But he couldn't help it
The music got into his shoulders
Around his neck
My shoulder girdle he would say
The opposite of Elvis
Whose gyrations whose gift
Was centered more in the hip girdle
Or so he would tell his wife
He just couldn't help it
She said he looks like he is doing a tai chi routine
On the dance floor only faster
Making funny formations with shoulders arms hands
Like some little teapot from the nursery rhymes
Arms and legs all akimbo
Like some fluid ever-changing abstract sculpture
Water to ice to vapor back to water
Changing like one of those moving billboards
That have images on three sides
Rotated every 10 seconds
To reveal a triangulated message
Come Josephine
In my flying machine
Going up and down
Exactly he said to her exactly
Oh no she moaned what have I done
Have I encouraged this insanity
Exactly he said exactly
I'm sitting down then Mister Teapot she said
Although she had to laugh despite herself
It had gotten to the point
Where his wife wouldn't dance with him
Unless he promised not to use his arms
That way
It was embarrassing she said
Exactly he said exactly
But not embarrassing
Free form art he said
Like I said she said
It had gotten to the point
For Sketches
By Denis J. Kelly
June 13, 2012
Where his wife wouldn't dance with him
Unless he promised not to raise his arms
That way
It was embarassing she said
But he couldn't help it
The music got into his shoulders
Around his neck
My shoulder girdle he would say
The opposite of Elvis
Whose gyrations whose gift
Was centered more in the hip girdle
Or so he would tell his wife
He just couldn't help it
She said he looks like he is doing a tai chi routine
On the dance floor only faster
Making funny formations with shoulders arms hands
Like some little teapot from the nursery rhymes
Arms and legs all akimbo
Like some fluid ever-changing abstract sculpture
Water to ice to vapor back to water
Changing like one of those moving billboards
That have images on three sides
Rotated every 10 seconds
To reveal a triangulated message
Come Josephine
In my flying machine
Going up and down
Exactly he said to her exactly
Oh no she moaned what have I done
Have I encouraged this insanity
Exactly he said exactly
I'm sitting down then Mister Teapot she said
Although she had to laugh despite herself
It had gotten to the point
Where his wife wouldn't dance with him
Unless he promised not to use his arms
That way
It was embarrassing she said
Exactly he said exactly
But not embarrassing
Free form art he said
Like I said she said
It had gotten to the point
For Sketches
By Denis J. Kelly
June 13, 2012
Sal
Sal chose crayons
His instrument of choice
Waxed color on paper
Instrument of youth
Surfaces covered thick
Pigments coating unevenly
Pure blankets mostly
Although periodic breaks
To show the glory of the younger child
Pure scribble raised to high art
Scratched from out of the hues
Scratched as if whittling away waxen splinters
Scratched as if Jefferson himself
Were laying down the words of splendor
Test of freedom
Beliefs on truths
That changed the world
Acted as modern-day gospel
Retold take of The Fisherman
Ideals to live by
Ideas to empower generations to treat one another
As brethren under a blanket of blue pigment
Broad American sky
Broad American landscape
Green pigments
Beds of grasses fields and forests
Mixed dollops of reds yellows browns purples
At times paste raised and thick
At times scratch has reaches down to paper
Now to tell a story of the wonders of the Northwest
Streets of Seattle
Waters of Puget Sound
Peaks of Ranier Olympia Baker
Folks of the neighborhoods
Teams families classes playgrounds
Offices hospitals factories loading docks
Day care centers nursing homes
Universities high schools night schools
Houses on the hill
Rains descending on the valley
Broad bright sun
Rises and sets
Life itself
Sal chose crayons
His instrument of choice
Waxed color on paper
Instrument of Youth
Surfaces coated thick
Pigments coating unevenly
Pure blankets mostly
Although periodic breaks
To show the freedom of the young child
Pure scribble raised to high art
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
June 13, 2012
His instrument of choice
Waxed color on paper
Instrument of youth
Surfaces covered thick
Pigments coating unevenly
Pure blankets mostly
Although periodic breaks
To show the glory of the younger child
Pure scribble raised to high art
Scratched from out of the hues
Scratched as if whittling away waxen splinters
Scratched as if Jefferson himself
Were laying down the words of splendor
Test of freedom
Beliefs on truths
That changed the world
Acted as modern-day gospel
Retold take of The Fisherman
Ideals to live by
Ideas to empower generations to treat one another
As brethren under a blanket of blue pigment
Broad American sky
Broad American landscape
Green pigments
Beds of grasses fields and forests
Mixed dollops of reds yellows browns purples
At times paste raised and thick
At times scratch has reaches down to paper
Now to tell a story of the wonders of the Northwest
Streets of Seattle
Waters of Puget Sound
Peaks of Ranier Olympia Baker
Folks of the neighborhoods
Teams families classes playgrounds
Offices hospitals factories loading docks
Day care centers nursing homes
Universities high schools night schools
Houses on the hill
Rains descending on the valley
Broad bright sun
Rises and sets
Life itself
Sal chose crayons
His instrument of choice
Waxed color on paper
Instrument of Youth
Surfaces coated thick
Pigments coating unevenly
Pure blankets mostly
Although periodic breaks
To show the freedom of the young child
Pure scribble raised to high art
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
June 13, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Melba Anne, Dina and Bev
"She was just trying to hone her craft"
The two were exercising the gift for gab
Melba Anne and Dina talking about Bev
Down at the coffee cafe
Madison Park Seattle
"I was aghast at her for dumping on the singer
No need to infect a great Saturday night
With so much negativity
"I mean way back then
I didn't listen to her very closely
She was just another blonde from overseas
That some corporate record company bigwig
Propped up as the next big thing in the 1970s
Admittedly annoying with hit after hit
With that thin voice too much too soon
"But then I recently came upon her greatest hits CD
Asn I said I don't know
I'm up for something retro
So I took it home got good and comfortable
Saturday night alone for a change
Yeah right don't laugh
More like alone every Saturday night
Anyway
Saturday night alone
And I wasn't about to infect it
With so much negativity
"So I drew a bath
Lit about 100 candles
Poured a decaf
Kept it black
But with one ice cube
Popped her tunes in the CD player
Sunk down in the suds
Only my head
Popping up like Flipper talking to his friends on the dock
And gave her a go
"What a surprise
More angst between the lines
More depth if you cared to listen
More worldly-wise nuance she must have snuck in
When the corporate record company bigwig
Wasn't listening
Or more to the point you know
Was looking more at her
At her assets
Then really listening to her
If you know what I mean
I mean she was only trying to hone her craft
For crying out loud"
The two were exercising the gift for gab
Melba Anne and Dina talking about Bev
Down at the coffee cafe
Madison Park Seattle
"I know what you mean Melba Anne I know"
Dina felt compelled to defend the third a little
Gently though
Cause she generally agreed
That Bev had been too harsh on the singer
And on Melba Anne
Before she had to run off before finishing her coffee
She was always running off before finishing her coffee
"Bev is coming from a different school of thought
One that never looks closer than the crowd's opinion
She follows the concensus
Plays it safe
And it robs her of some judgment
It obviosuly robbed her being able to recognize
Last Saturday night
The space your head was in
Afer the bath
When she just burst in
Unannounced
Caught you enthralled
Brought you down a notch"
"I'll say
Down a notch
Down three notches"
"But I mean I remember the singer you're talking about
I always thought she was just veneer
But now I'm curious
Letting some her songs play over in my head now
Now I'm curious
I'll have to borrow your CD
Give a listen
Maybe give her the bath treatment and all
Hey maybe that's what Bev really needs
The bath treatment
Yeah, maybe we could be stumbling on a new therapy line here
A new treatment spa sensation for Saturday night relaxation
Music of the 70s rebathed in bubbles, candles and decaf
Hey don't laugh
That's how the last three gazillionaires got their start
Taking some crazy idea like that
And running with it"
Melba and Dina were execrising the gift for gab
Talking about Bev and everything
Down at the coffee cafe
Madison Park Seattle
For Sketches
By Denis J. Kelly
May 16, 2012
The two were exercising the gift for gab
Melba Anne and Dina talking about Bev
Down at the coffee cafe
Madison Park Seattle
"I was aghast at her for dumping on the singer
No need to infect a great Saturday night
With so much negativity
"I mean way back then
I didn't listen to her very closely
She was just another blonde from overseas
That some corporate record company bigwig
Propped up as the next big thing in the 1970s
Admittedly annoying with hit after hit
With that thin voice too much too soon
"But then I recently came upon her greatest hits CD
Asn I said I don't know
I'm up for something retro
So I took it home got good and comfortable
Saturday night alone for a change
Yeah right don't laugh
More like alone every Saturday night
Anyway
Saturday night alone
And I wasn't about to infect it
With so much negativity
"So I drew a bath
Lit about 100 candles
Poured a decaf
Kept it black
But with one ice cube
Popped her tunes in the CD player
Sunk down in the suds
Only my head
Popping up like Flipper talking to his friends on the dock
And gave her a go
"What a surprise
More angst between the lines
More depth if you cared to listen
More worldly-wise nuance she must have snuck in
When the corporate record company bigwig
Wasn't listening
Or more to the point you know
Was looking more at her
At her assets
Then really listening to her
If you know what I mean
I mean she was only trying to hone her craft
For crying out loud"
The two were exercising the gift for gab
Melba Anne and Dina talking about Bev
Down at the coffee cafe
Madison Park Seattle
"I know what you mean Melba Anne I know"
Dina felt compelled to defend the third a little
Gently though
Cause she generally agreed
That Bev had been too harsh on the singer
And on Melba Anne
Before she had to run off before finishing her coffee
She was always running off before finishing her coffee
"Bev is coming from a different school of thought
One that never looks closer than the crowd's opinion
She follows the concensus
Plays it safe
And it robs her of some judgment
It obviosuly robbed her being able to recognize
Last Saturday night
The space your head was in
Afer the bath
When she just burst in
Unannounced
Caught you enthralled
Brought you down a notch"
"I'll say
Down a notch
Down three notches"
"But I mean I remember the singer you're talking about
I always thought she was just veneer
But now I'm curious
Letting some her songs play over in my head now
Now I'm curious
I'll have to borrow your CD
Give a listen
Maybe give her the bath treatment and all
Hey maybe that's what Bev really needs
The bath treatment
Yeah, maybe we could be stumbling on a new therapy line here
A new treatment spa sensation for Saturday night relaxation
Music of the 70s rebathed in bubbles, candles and decaf
Hey don't laugh
That's how the last three gazillionaires got their start
Taking some crazy idea like that
And running with it"
Melba and Dina were execrising the gift for gab
Talking about Bev and everything
Down at the coffee cafe
Madison Park Seattle
For Sketches
By Denis J. Kelly
May 16, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Old Man Vic
We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east
Attend to family business
Sell this bookstore to Lucius
A young man whom Vic
Introduced to everyone as
A close family friend
'Nuff said
Looking out over the neighborhood merchants
And customers gathered now in his store
Not so much to buy books and magazines
Because Lucius had decided to close the registers
Just for this one-hour social
Rather just to say goodbye
And hello
On the first Saturday afternoon in October
After the Huskies game
Before everyone's evening parties and family suppers
Would pull the audience here and there
"We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to go east"
Lucius repeated his opening address
As if reading from a ballad
From one of Vic's and his favorite books of free verse
Legendary and long
The kind this bookstore specialized in
His journey all through college had informed him
That this situation even if it were the 21st Century
And not in the time of chivalry folk tales and couplets
That this situation truly called for
Just such an address
It would be his introduction to his neighborhood
As Vic's successor as owner of the store
And an insight into
His way of conducting business
Formal yet friendly
"We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to go east"
Lucious picked up the pace now
Clearly making his third repeat of the same words
Mean something different
And used the opening not so much for meaning
As for pacing
Rhythm
"And he left this store this space this room
To me of all peoplea humble servant
A relative newcomer to his neighborhood"
In facr he had been a stranger just two months ago
"But then that first month, Vic quietly patiently
In his own sweet way his style
Walked me through everything I would need to know
About the business about ordering and re-stocking
But more importanly he personally introduced me
To all of you folks his dear friends
His other children he'd call you
Other than his books
His nutrition he once said
As we were passing
The "Zen and the Art of Cooking" book
Up on the shelf back in the corner over there
And for that month I watched his eyes
As much as I listened to his voice
How they would light up
Go aglow
But look slightly different
For each one"
"You were individuals you were people not customers
He was teaching he clearly said in his mannerisms
He was mentoring
Guiding steady customers through reading lists
As if you were prep school students
You know it's true
Many of you are nodding your heads am I right
Getting to know your habits he was
Encouraging diversity."
"We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east"
Lucius knew he'd have to get to his point now
His young career as their apprentice
Was about to begin now
He measured out his words cautiously
"I could never replace Old Man Vic
That was what I told him when we first met
When first I arrive in Seattle by bus
When first I answered his letter
When first my aunt told me
That her long lost friend from college
She called him practically family
A legend by his absence
A Ph.D. college professor
A gifted man of letters
Would be returning to Albany
To take care of a very dear friend
And needed someone to take over his store
"And in his kindness I was humbled to learn
That he had been following my progress through school
My aunt must have kept him current
Through St. Joseph's High School and Holy Cross and Rutgers grad school
And that he wanted me to take his place
Here behind the counter
Here on this street
Here among this neighborhood district of stores
Here among these friends of his
His books
Truly
Verily as the high priests would say
We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east"
"During the past month
Especially during those first days
When I was all alone
Swamped by all the work
Never having been a shopkeeper
A businessman
Really never having been anything other than a student
I remembered everything that he had told me
Especially the part about letting the situation come to me
And listening long and close before venturing out
Reaching out in measured almost symbolic gestures
To find a way to announmce my arrival
To ask your patience and support
To never ever hope
Nor appear to ever think
That I could replace Old Man Vic
Or even repeat exactly what he did
But rather to develop my own style
And then cultivate
Build a business
Based on my own personality."
"Well here goes Ladies and Gentlemen
I've gathered you here for this social hour
When the registers are stilled
And the cheese and wine are still abundant
To say thank you for the past month
You've made this situation so easy
You've been nothing but incredibly welcoming
You've been helpful in showing me the ropes
Even down to where to buy my milk
Where to get my shirts dry-cleaned
Where to go for the best sermons
What buses to take here and there
Where to go for the best salmon
And king crab
You've been great
I'll always try to do the same for you."
"So here goes
And how about them huskies
27-10 today
And it's a good day
A very good day
Don't you just love this season
We'll call it Sweater Weather Saturdays
Lots of hot coffee and warm lyrics
And for any of you who like to play guitar or sing
Maybe blow a blues harp
Open mike over by the best sellers
From now on every Saturday afternoon if the game is early
A post game hour
And if the game's late
How about Saturday morning pre-game
All sunny and bright
Even when it's wet and cold outside
Verses to wake up to
Refrains to sing at the game"
"Anyway more about that later
I know I'm trying too hard
But that's the way it ought to be at first
Don't you think
Yeah, we lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east
May God keep him safe always
And now I've come west because of him
Thank you very much sir
Young Man Lucius you can call me
Pray to God for me
You've lost a good man,
And gained one back again"
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 17, 2012
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east
Attend to family business
Sell this bookstore to Lucius
A young man whom Vic
Introduced to everyone as
A close family friend
'Nuff said
Looking out over the neighborhood merchants
And customers gathered now in his store
Not so much to buy books and magazines
Because Lucius had decided to close the registers
Just for this one-hour social
Rather just to say goodbye
And hello
On the first Saturday afternoon in October
After the Huskies game
Before everyone's evening parties and family suppers
Would pull the audience here and there
"We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to go east"
Lucius repeated his opening address
As if reading from a ballad
From one of Vic's and his favorite books of free verse
Legendary and long
The kind this bookstore specialized in
His journey all through college had informed him
That this situation even if it were the 21st Century
And not in the time of chivalry folk tales and couplets
That this situation truly called for
Just such an address
It would be his introduction to his neighborhood
As Vic's successor as owner of the store
And an insight into
His way of conducting business
Formal yet friendly
"We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to go east"
Lucious picked up the pace now
Clearly making his third repeat of the same words
Mean something different
And used the opening not so much for meaning
As for pacing
Rhythm
"And he left this store this space this room
To me of all peoplea humble servant
A relative newcomer to his neighborhood"
In facr he had been a stranger just two months ago
"But then that first month, Vic quietly patiently
In his own sweet way his style
Walked me through everything I would need to know
About the business about ordering and re-stocking
But more importanly he personally introduced me
To all of you folks his dear friends
His other children he'd call you
Other than his books
His nutrition he once said
As we were passing
The "Zen and the Art of Cooking" book
Up on the shelf back in the corner over there
And for that month I watched his eyes
As much as I listened to his voice
How they would light up
Go aglow
But look slightly different
For each one"
"You were individuals you were people not customers
He was teaching he clearly said in his mannerisms
He was mentoring
Guiding steady customers through reading lists
As if you were prep school students
You know it's true
Many of you are nodding your heads am I right
Getting to know your habits he was
Encouraging diversity."
"We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east"
Lucius knew he'd have to get to his point now
His young career as their apprentice
Was about to begin now
He measured out his words cautiously
"I could never replace Old Man Vic
That was what I told him when we first met
When first I arrive in Seattle by bus
When first I answered his letter
When first my aunt told me
That her long lost friend from college
She called him practically family
A legend by his absence
A Ph.D. college professor
A gifted man of letters
Would be returning to Albany
To take care of a very dear friend
And needed someone to take over his store
"And in his kindness I was humbled to learn
That he had been following my progress through school
My aunt must have kept him current
Through St. Joseph's High School and Holy Cross and Rutgers grad school
And that he wanted me to take his place
Here behind the counter
Here on this street
Here among this neighborhood district of stores
Here among these friends of his
His books
Truly
Verily as the high priests would say
We lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east"
"During the past month
Especially during those first days
When I was all alone
Swamped by all the work
Never having been a shopkeeper
A businessman
Really never having been anything other than a student
I remembered everything that he had told me
Especially the part about letting the situation come to me
And listening long and close before venturing out
Reaching out in measured almost symbolic gestures
To find a way to announmce my arrival
To ask your patience and support
To never ever hope
Nor appear to ever think
That I could replace Old Man Vic
Or even repeat exactly what he did
But rather to develop my own style
And then cultivate
Build a business
Based on my own personality."
"Well here goes Ladies and Gentlemen
I've gathered you here for this social hour
When the registers are stilled
And the cheese and wine are still abundant
To say thank you for the past month
You've made this situation so easy
You've been nothing but incredibly welcoming
You've been helpful in showing me the ropes
Even down to where to buy my milk
Where to get my shirts dry-cleaned
Where to go for the best sermons
What buses to take here and there
Where to go for the best salmon
And king crab
You've been great
I'll always try to do the same for you."
"So here goes
And how about them huskies
27-10 today
And it's a good day
A very good day
Don't you just love this season
We'll call it Sweater Weather Saturdays
Lots of hot coffee and warm lyrics
And for any of you who like to play guitar or sing
Maybe blow a blues harp
Open mike over by the best sellers
From now on every Saturday afternoon if the game is early
A post game hour
And if the game's late
How about Saturday morning pre-game
All sunny and bright
Even when it's wet and cold outside
Verses to wake up to
Refrains to sing at the game"
"Anyway more about that later
I know I'm trying too hard
But that's the way it ought to be at first
Don't you think
Yeah, we lost a good man
When Old Man Vic
Decided to head back east
May God keep him safe always
And now I've come west because of him
Thank you very much sir
Young Man Lucius you can call me
Pray to God for me
You've lost a good man,
And gained one back again"
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 17, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Peter
Peter slowly drew out of the wood
The figure he sensed existed within
He had seen it as soon as he handled the block
As soon as he listened to the drive of the song
On the boom box on the shelf
Behind wise Mr. Chelmsford down at his market
A blues-inspired version of The American Anthem
Not Francis Scott Key
But Woody Guthrie
Being performed by a backwater Memphis house band
Slow and steady rather than fast and upbeat
Closer to the experience of people of color
More irony injected in a way that the author
Would have loved
His masterpiece being originally penned
As much in protest as in honor
Which to him meant it was truly reflective
Of the Great American Character
Peter sensed all this when he touched the wood
After coming home from Mr. Chelmford's
Couldn't be stopped as he reached for his tools
Started carving away shards and splinters
To reveal to recognize to liberate
The eagle living within
To uncage
The head and shoulders
The personality
The pride the valour the verve
The uncompromising adherence to standards
That was just waiting to be born
Hatched from the rectangle of Christ's wood
Its head cocked slightly to the left
As if listening trying to understand
Teaching a lesson scolding
Cajoling the young to join the flock
The army of the artisans of the talon
The flame of vision
Global in breadth
As if seen from the mountaintop.
Peter slowly drew out of the wood
The figure he sensed existed within
He had seen it as soon as he handled the block
As soon as he listened to the drive of the song
On the boom box on the shelf
Behind wise Mr. Chelmsford down at his market
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
The figure he sensed existed within
He had seen it as soon as he handled the block
As soon as he listened to the drive of the song
On the boom box on the shelf
Behind wise Mr. Chelmsford down at his market
A blues-inspired version of The American Anthem
Not Francis Scott Key
But Woody Guthrie
Being performed by a backwater Memphis house band
Slow and steady rather than fast and upbeat
Closer to the experience of people of color
More irony injected in a way that the author
Would have loved
His masterpiece being originally penned
As much in protest as in honor
Which to him meant it was truly reflective
Of the Great American Character
Peter sensed all this when he touched the wood
After coming home from Mr. Chelmford's
Couldn't be stopped as he reached for his tools
Started carving away shards and splinters
To reveal to recognize to liberate
The eagle living within
To uncage
The head and shoulders
The personality
The pride the valour the verve
The uncompromising adherence to standards
That was just waiting to be born
Hatched from the rectangle of Christ's wood
Its head cocked slightly to the left
As if listening trying to understand
Teaching a lesson scolding
Cajoling the young to join the flock
The army of the artisans of the talon
The flame of vision
Global in breadth
As if seen from the mountaintop.
Peter slowly drew out of the wood
The figure he sensed existed within
He had seen it as soon as he handled the block
As soon as he listened to the drive of the song
On the boom box on the shelf
Behind wise Mr. Chelmsford down at his market
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
Andrew
The church bell tolled four o'clock
And already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hous and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart out to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it happened
And not because of his own weakness
And not because of their contrasts and similarities
Which helped them remain together at times
And at other times drove them irrevocably apart
Until of course that day three months ago
When forever this dynamic would become frozen in time
Drawn by circumstance
A great opportunity a job a career
But living literally thousands of miles away
Drawn back to the town of their natural origin
Drawn back but not to be with him
Drawn back but to be away from him
And leaving him in a limbo space and time
Where he couldn't go home if he were to want to
And yet he knew eventually he could also not stay here
Its memories of their hopes together now dashed
Forever haunting the very look of the place
He was left on quiet Sunday afternoons like this one
When the church bells toll four o'clock
Already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hours and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart our to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it had happened
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
And already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hous and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart out to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it happened
And not because of his own weakness
And not because of their contrasts and similarities
Which helped them remain together at times
And at other times drove them irrevocably apart
Until of course that day three months ago
When forever this dynamic would become frozen in time
Drawn by circumstance
A great opportunity a job a career
But living literally thousands of miles away
Drawn back to the town of their natural origin
Drawn back but not to be with him
Drawn back but to be away from him
And leaving him in a limbo space and time
Where he couldn't go home if he were to want to
And yet he knew eventually he could also not stay here
Its memories of their hopes together now dashed
Forever haunting the very look of the place
He was left on quiet Sunday afternoons like this one
When the church bells toll four o'clock
Already Andrew had been out
On the porch overlooking Lake Washington
For hours and hours
Sitting listening hearing
Pouring his heart our to himself without really noticing
The number of hours nor the number of explanations
Trying to peel away the doubts the regrets
Of what had happened just because it had happened
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
April 4, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Myrtle
Myrtle stood proudly
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-speacies
Of the Fuchsia plants
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Display and tea tasting Sunday
It had been her passion 30 years ago
The colorful plant whose distinguishing characteristic
Are the blossoms generally fuchsia in color
That tended to look in shape
Like those tiny Christmas Tree lighting faerie bulbs
Not the large gawky kind but the tiny kind
That hung as they did at the end of droopy stems
Not unlike the droop of a willow tree
The Fuchsia plants blossom tended to be like a firework's blossom
Just seconds after high above the crowd
The explosion sends shards of colored light
Off in a sphere shape at nearly uniform distance
Creating a round that lasts for seconds
And then disappears into the memory only
What Myrtle loved best about these plants
Was that the beauty that lasted just seconds in the fireworks
Was captured for days in the plants
Really for as long as they blossom
And on this day Myrtle stood proudly
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-species
Of the Fuchsia plant
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Annual display and tea tasting Sunday
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 28, 2012
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-speacies
Of the Fuchsia plants
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Display and tea tasting Sunday
It had been her passion 30 years ago
The colorful plant whose distinguishing characteristic
Are the blossoms generally fuchsia in color
That tended to look in shape
Like those tiny Christmas Tree lighting faerie bulbs
Not the large gawky kind but the tiny kind
That hung as they did at the end of droopy stems
Not unlike the droop of a willow tree
The Fuchsia plants blossom tended to be like a firework's blossom
Just seconds after high above the crowd
The explosion sends shards of colored light
Off in a sphere shape at nearly uniform distance
Creating a round that lasts for seconds
And then disappears into the memory only
What Myrtle loved best about these plants
Was that the beauty that lasted just seconds in the fireworks
Was captured for days in the plants
Really for as long as they blossom
And on this day Myrtle stood proudly
Exhibiting her personal collection
Of a variety of sub-species
Of the Fuchsia plant
That made up nearly a third
Of the Annual Puget Sound's Fuchsia Guild's
Annual display and tea tasting Sunday
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 28, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Quiet Stillness Flows
Quiet stillness flows
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out the stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Mother Oh Sister
Beckoning individually
Penerating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
The pulsating rhythm of human beings
Given over to service
Given up as offering
Given hope and salve
Given sweet harmonies
The Diety Herself inviting mere mortals
To sing a duet with pure love
Faith burning warm and nourishing
Like a fine sherry
Like a whiskey-laced coffee
Like a bees wax scented pleasuring with vanillas
And sweet berries
And ocean spray hints
Floral aromatic throws
Like the clergy anointing the crowd
With holy water-soaked fresh-picked evergreen branches
A babbling brook-like freshness aerated
Before landing as grace on the forehead
There spread by cross-drawing thumb tips
On brow on lips on heart
Oh sprinkle this blessing on me
Quiet stillness flowing
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out of stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Brother Oh Father
Beckoning individually
Penetrating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 7, 2012
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out the stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Mother Oh Sister
Beckoning individually
Penerating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
The pulsating rhythm of human beings
Given over to service
Given up as offering
Given hope and salve
Given sweet harmonies
The Diety Herself inviting mere mortals
To sing a duet with pure love
Faith burning warm and nourishing
Like a fine sherry
Like a whiskey-laced coffee
Like a bees wax scented pleasuring with vanillas
And sweet berries
And ocean spray hints
Floral aromatic throws
Like the clergy anointing the crowd
With holy water-soaked fresh-picked evergreen branches
A babbling brook-like freshness aerated
Before landing as grace on the forehead
There spread by cross-drawing thumb tips
On brow on lips on heart
Oh sprinkle this blessing on me
Quiet stillness flowing
Like milk coating messy
Spilling over marble cool viscous
Revealing from out of stone
Soft skin and a smile
An outreached hand
Oh Brother Oh Father
Beckoning individually
Penetrating deep within the soul
To touch the sanguine spirit
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
March 7, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Emerge Vault
Emerge vault
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapult my spirit
Through the portals and space
Leap like frogs and kangaroos
Rocket like a complex gadget
Based on the sciences of rubber bands and springs
Launch like one of those
Antique tops of the 19th Century
Surprisingly ingenious for its day
Spring like a gymnast, an acrobat
Using a trampoline to defy gravity
Playfully reaching for the ceiling
Like a pantomime being an eagle
Ballet stepper going up for the dunk
Hearing Jimi Hendrix as anthem
Excuse me while I kiss the sky
The glee more important
Than the aerodynamics of vectors and kinesology
Oh put my soul
On display for all the world to see
The dramatic act of escaping the earth's cling
Certainly much more important
Than the final scores of the judges
Even if it is a perfect 10 at the Olympics
Oh much more
Soar
Emerge vault
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapault my spirit
Through the portals of time and space
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapult my spirit
Through the portals and space
Leap like frogs and kangaroos
Rocket like a complex gadget
Based on the sciences of rubber bands and springs
Launch like one of those
Antique tops of the 19th Century
Surprisingly ingenious for its day
Spring like a gymnast, an acrobat
Using a trampoline to defy gravity
Playfully reaching for the ceiling
Like a pantomime being an eagle
Ballet stepper going up for the dunk
Hearing Jimi Hendrix as anthem
Excuse me while I kiss the sky
The glee more important
Than the aerodynamics of vectors and kinesology
Oh put my soul
On display for all the world to see
The dramatic act of escaping the earth's cling
Certainly much more important
Than the final scores of the judges
Even if it is a perfect 10 at the Olympics
Oh much more
Soar
Emerge vault
From out the Great Northwest Woods
Catapault my spirit
Through the portals of time and space
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
Old St. Jean, Young Pierre and Sister Mary Anastasia
Where are the folks
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
Where are the folks
Who could coax from out middle school boys
The more creative siblings
To Confusion anger and embarassment
Draw them out and nurture them
Like curiosity passion and self-awareness
Send them to the good fathers of prep schools
Graduate them from primary to secondary grades
Really initiate the rocket of their verve
Toward careers as students fathers lovers and friends
To be worth their weight in loyalty
Able to shoulder their responsibilities
To serve and serve well
While paying attention to their own spirit
To be able to render to their sisters
And their brothers of the spirit
A personality showing
Assistance leadership and achievement
Where are the folks
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
Where are the folks
Who could coax from out middle school boys
The more creative siblings
To Confusion anger and embarassment
Draw them out and nurture them
Like curiosity passion and self-awareness
Send them to the good fathers of prep schools
Graduate them from primary to secondary grades
Really initiate the rocket of their verve
Toward careers as students fathers lovers and friends
To be worth their weight in loyalty
Able to shoulder their responsibilities
To serve and serve well
While paying attention to their own spirit
To be able to render to their sisters
And their brothers of the spirit
A personality showing
Assistance leadership and achievement
Where are the folks
Who would inhabit my daydreams
Like Old St. Jean rustic painter
Young Pierre gardener poet
And Sister Mary Anastasia teacher extraordinaire
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
February 29, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Oh, Rest My Weary Bones
Oh, rest my weary bones
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
Watch for activity out on the lake
Mantra that cares and worries
Are like so many passengers
On the jets overhead
Heading away
Like so many boats
Passing out on the lake
The distance between there and here
Sufficient to render silent
Their speed
Their power
Their noise
Quietly I can see their movement
They take their journey
To Forgottenville
So long
Their inevitable trip
To Nowhereberg
Bye Bye
Oh rest my weary bones
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Feb. 8, 2012
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
Watch for activity out on the lake
Mantra that cares and worries
Are like so many passengers
On the jets overhead
Heading away
Like so many boats
Passing out on the lake
The distance between there and here
Sufficient to render silent
Their speed
Their power
Their noise
Quietly I can see their movement
They take their journey
To Forgottenville
So long
Their inevitable trip
To Nowhereberg
Bye Bye
Oh rest my weary bones
On this simple house porch
This patio overlooking
A mile away at least
Lake Washington
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Feb. 8, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Victoria
Victoria could see her dreams
From the streets of Butte
They appeared somewhere beyond the mountains
Every day after her shift
At the Queen of Hearts Restaurant & Casino
She'd look up at the very same mountains
That attracted wanderers to visit Butte
And pray to the statue, Our Lady of the Rockies
Her deliverance soon would come
There might come a day years from now she'd dream
When she could afford to wax poetic
About these 20 odd years
And when she might return to visit
These mountains, this precious statue, her patron
For years she remained in conflict
Torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay
It had become her home, after all, her companion
Where she had settled, when, lost
She had had to find a new life two decades ago
Wher her failed marriage to that no-account bum
Almost landed her in jail back in Syracuse
It was only through a sympathtic district attorney
And turning state's evidence that she was spared
And managed to leave all that behind her
And drift in search of a place, an escape from the world
All over the Northwest and the Upper Plains she sought
A place to hide, a place to rest
Finally living the forgotten life
In Butte
Everything became thankfully routine
Until four years ago
When from out of nowhere
The sprout of a yearning
Germinated in her heart, in her soul
It wasn't too late, she would reason
If she left now, she could still live another 20 years
Somewhere more cosmopolitan, more sheik
Brighter, limitless, dripping with more hope
A move could lift this veil of sadness
That threatened her dreams
Darkened her schemes,
Deadened her streams
Ever since, she started to save her pennies
Investigated from afar
Went to the library, subscribed to magazines
Searched the internet
Asked customers who would come through
On the buses from Seattle to Billings and Bismark
Who took half-hour layovers in the restaurant
Oh, she'd imagine, one day soon
Although lately, not soon enough
No, she must show restraint, she said
That one day soon, she'd get on that bus
Return to the world of the living
Most folks would tell her to go west
Head over to Seattle or Portland
But her instinct told her
That back east was where her deliverance would be found
She'd head back
But to Chicago, New York, Washiungton, or Boston, not Syracuse
Places with upscale thinking where she could lose herself
Be swept up in the crowd, play with new trends
Challenge herself with new ideas
Allow herself to become involved in a local project
Give back in thanks for the blessings granted her
By her patron, Our Lady of the Rockies
Victoria could see her dreams
From the streets of Butte
They appeared somewhere beyond the mountains
Every day after her shift
At the Queen of Hearts Restaurant & Casino
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 24, 2012
From the streets of Butte
They appeared somewhere beyond the mountains
Every day after her shift
At the Queen of Hearts Restaurant & Casino
She'd look up at the very same mountains
That attracted wanderers to visit Butte
And pray to the statue, Our Lady of the Rockies
Her deliverance soon would come
There might come a day years from now she'd dream
When she could afford to wax poetic
About these 20 odd years
And when she might return to visit
These mountains, this precious statue, her patron
For years she remained in conflict
Torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay
It had become her home, after all, her companion
Where she had settled, when, lost
She had had to find a new life two decades ago
Wher her failed marriage to that no-account bum
Almost landed her in jail back in Syracuse
It was only through a sympathtic district attorney
And turning state's evidence that she was spared
And managed to leave all that behind her
And drift in search of a place, an escape from the world
All over the Northwest and the Upper Plains she sought
A place to hide, a place to rest
Finally living the forgotten life
In Butte
Everything became thankfully routine
Until four years ago
When from out of nowhere
The sprout of a yearning
Germinated in her heart, in her soul
It wasn't too late, she would reason
If she left now, she could still live another 20 years
Somewhere more cosmopolitan, more sheik
Brighter, limitless, dripping with more hope
A move could lift this veil of sadness
That threatened her dreams
Darkened her schemes,
Deadened her streams
Ever since, she started to save her pennies
Investigated from afar
Went to the library, subscribed to magazines
Searched the internet
Asked customers who would come through
On the buses from Seattle to Billings and Bismark
Who took half-hour layovers in the restaurant
Oh, she'd imagine, one day soon
Although lately, not soon enough
No, she must show restraint, she said
That one day soon, she'd get on that bus
Return to the world of the living
Most folks would tell her to go west
Head over to Seattle or Portland
But her instinct told her
That back east was where her deliverance would be found
She'd head back
But to Chicago, New York, Washiungton, or Boston, not Syracuse
Places with upscale thinking where she could lose herself
Be swept up in the crowd, play with new trends
Challenge herself with new ideas
Allow herself to become involved in a local project
Give back in thanks for the blessings granted her
By her patron, Our Lady of the Rockies
Victoria could see her dreams
From the streets of Butte
They appeared somewhere beyond the mountains
Every day after her shift
At the Queen of Hearts Restaurant & Casino
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 24, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Prairie Dog Play For Me
Prairie dog play for me
Stroke my heart
Open my eyes
Burrow deep
Unlock memories
Suck like with a straw
The magic potion
The marrow
Of wandering
Like Alice in the Wonderland
Like Frodo in Rivendell
Like Galileo at the telescope
Open this portal
Let me see
The other side of the stethoscope
Inward as much as
Across vast vistas
Come away from this trip
Richer
For having listened
For having learned
Prairie dog play for me
Stroke my heart
Open my eyes
Burrow deep
Unlock memories
Suck like with a straw
The magic potion
The marrow
Of wandering
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 18, 2012
Stroke my heart
Open my eyes
Burrow deep
Unlock memories
Suck like with a straw
The magic potion
The marrow
Of wandering
Like Alice in the Wonderland
Like Frodo in Rivendell
Like Galileo at the telescope
Open this portal
Let me see
The other side of the stethoscope
Inward as much as
Across vast vistas
Come away from this trip
Richer
For having listened
For having learned
Prairie dog play for me
Stroke my heart
Open my eyes
Burrow deep
Unlock memories
Suck like with a straw
The magic potion
The marrow
Of wandering
For Sketches
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 18, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Stray Doggie Musta Wandered Off
Stray doggie musta wandered off
A lone cow appeared uninterested
Oblivious to its misfortune
Unaware there wasn't another bovine around
For a mile at least
The fencing would keep her off the highway
What with its trucks and buses and cars
But how would she get back to the herd
All she did was munch on the grass
Probably stumbled upon a sweet patch
Having followed a line of tasty blades
Like in that E.T. movie
Following pieces of candy
Until an hour later
Here she was
Stray doggie musta wandered off
A lone cow appeared uninterested
Oblivious to its misfortune
Unaware there wasn't another cow around
For a mile at least
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 4, 2012
A lone cow appeared uninterested
Oblivious to its misfortune
Unaware there wasn't another bovine around
For a mile at least
The fencing would keep her off the highway
What with its trucks and buses and cars
But how would she get back to the herd
All she did was munch on the grass
Probably stumbled upon a sweet patch
Having followed a line of tasty blades
Like in that E.T. movie
Following pieces of candy
Until an hour later
Here she was
Stray doggie musta wandered off
A lone cow appeared uninterested
Oblivious to its misfortune
Unaware there wasn't another cow around
For a mile at least
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 4, 2012
Half-Harvested Field Of Blond Fiber
Half-harvested field of blond fiber
Bleached yellow by the sun
Or just pale mustard by science
Awaits an organizing farm vehicle
To come by and rake up the cuttings
Batch the yield into bales
The cut product leaves a stubble
Like when a kid gets a buzz cut for summer
Nearly all the way down to scalp
And you can see how white the skin
Has become over the winter
Soon to be colored
By endless hours playing all day long in the sun
During the months when the classroom
Is the farm
Where Dad is king, Mom is queen
Family is everything
That and getting seed in the ground
Feeding cattle
Praying for good weather,
Rich yields,
A better life
And then at the right time bringing the hay to market
Half-harvested field of blond fiber
Bleached yellow by the sun
Or just pale mustard by science
Awaits an organizing farm vehicle
To come by and rake up the cuttings
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 4, 2012
Bleached yellow by the sun
Or just pale mustard by science
Awaits an organizing farm vehicle
To come by and rake up the cuttings
Batch the yield into bales
The cut product leaves a stubble
Like when a kid gets a buzz cut for summer
Nearly all the way down to scalp
And you can see how white the skin
Has become over the winter
Soon to be colored
By endless hours playing all day long in the sun
During the months when the classroom
Is the farm
Where Dad is king, Mom is queen
Family is everything
That and getting seed in the ground
Feeding cattle
Praying for good weather,
Rich yields,
A better life
And then at the right time bringing the hay to market
Half-harvested field of blond fiber
Bleached yellow by the sun
Or just pale mustard by science
Awaits an organizing farm vehicle
To come by and rake up the cuttings
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 4, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
He Had The Look Of A Young Old Man
He had the look of a young old man
More so than
An old young man.
Heck he wasn't much more than 19
But he looked every day of having been
In and out of juvenile hall for years
Let's face it for a decade now
He had seen nothing but the inside of
One correctional facility or another
Hadn't necessarily made him a better person
Couldn't say if it had made him a worse person
Mostly it should have made him wiser
To not make the same mistakes over and over agian
All that could change
Starting here starting now you never know
It's always so hard to predict
He was on the bus headed to Seattle
Headed to make a new life
Pick up on another chance
A gift that had been given him
The judge had pleaded with him to make the most of it
Thank your lucky stars young man he said
You have someone willing to help you
Don't let me see you back here
Or so help me I'll throw the book at you
All that would be decided in the days weeks months years ahead
For now though sitting on the bus looking out the window
He had the look of a young old man
More so than
An old young man
Heck he wasn't much more than 19
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 3, 2012
More so than
An old young man.
Heck he wasn't much more than 19
But he looked every day of having been
In and out of juvenile hall for years
Let's face it for a decade now
He had seen nothing but the inside of
One correctional facility or another
Hadn't necessarily made him a better person
Couldn't say if it had made him a worse person
Mostly it should have made him wiser
To not make the same mistakes over and over agian
All that could change
Starting here starting now you never know
It's always so hard to predict
He was on the bus headed to Seattle
Headed to make a new life
Pick up on another chance
A gift that had been given him
The judge had pleaded with him to make the most of it
Thank your lucky stars young man he said
You have someone willing to help you
Don't let me see you back here
Or so help me I'll throw the book at you
All that would be decided in the days weeks months years ahead
For now though sitting on the bus looking out the window
He had the look of a young old man
More so than
An old young man
Heck he wasn't much more than 19
For Conversations With Walt
Denis J. Kelly
Jan. 3, 2012
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