Pop's Poetry

Creating something from scrap wood
found in my garage amidst the tools,
wanting to be given a name.
A table,
for the cat,
a cat table,
she must have.

The little black kitty can eat in peace
above the reaches of dog breath
away from the thieving blue jays.
Out of sight,
in a dark corner,
a perfect setting,
for stealth meals.

Hand sawn with tools new and old,
the creation comes to life from a sketch
on the last of wrinkled graph paper.
A table,
for the cat,
a cat table,
she won't like.

Pops, 2015

in a new pair of shoes or moving rhubarb to a sunnier location and shopping for new glasses (I really wanted round ones) it's obsessively obvious that I like change though that's not entirely true because I actually love it as long as I think the change is for the better or at least status quo in terms of making a difference even though there is some comfort in the routine things of life like plum blossoms and paychecks and smoothies and sunrises I have to say that not being able to change the every day on any day makes me think of wanting to part my head from my body so I can be free from the monotony of the endless rote happening around me although I know a bodyless head and a headless body would also get boring as well as being fairly ineffective so I keep some of the rut walking going while I let my imagination leave my sensibilities every moment I can and before the path I'm on gets too deep in the ground from the terminal back and forth I jump out and dance for a bit in the sun

Pops 2015 World Poetry Day

May you live long enough, love deep enough
and make time enough for family and friends
to call your life full on the hour that it ends.

Pops Blair 3/17/2015