Yummy Yummy

9 Poems & 1 Pome

1. Some of Us Had Mothers – Eileen Malloy
2. When Death Comes – Tom Pathe
3. Place Your Own James Brown Scream Here – Wendell Beavers
4. Even Mick Jagger Gets Old – Frank Ryan
5. Podcast 22 – Frank Ryan
6. Southern Sky – Frank Ryan
7. Diamonds, Gold and Emeralds – Frank Ryan
8. Ebey’s Landing – Frank Ryan
9. Friendship – Max Brown
10. Senryu II About Angel Wind – Maddy Radish

 

Some of Us Had Mothers 

Some of us had mothers who were 14 and inept

Some of us had mothers who were 34 and dysfunctional

Some of us had mothers who were 14 and capable

Some of us had mothers who were 34 and very competent mothers

Some of us had mothers who were broke and at their wit’s end

Some of us had mothers who were rich and crazy lonely

Some of us had mothers who wanted to be somewhere else

Some of us had mothers who were really into kids

Some of us had mothers who kept a guilty secret

Some of us had mothers who had not a care in the world

Some of us had mothers who loved with a big mind

Some of us had mothers who drank too much

Some of us had mothers who could sex a newborn kitten

Some of us had mothers who were on a bowling team

Some of us had mothers who threw in extra chocolate chips

Some of us had mothers who resented daily chores

Some of us had mothers who sorted our clothes every fall

Some of us had mothers who made foreign pastries

Some of us had mothers who wore dresses everyday

Some of us had mothers who smoked menthol cigarettes

Some of us had mothers who had a jewelry drawer

Some of us had mothers who were afraid of kids

Some of us had mothers who couldn’t go outside

Some of us had mothers who rang a boat horn at dinner time

Some of us had mothers who let us play in the river

Some of us had mothers who freaked out over soakers

Some of us had mothers who once stood naked on the porch

Some of us had mothers who had no clue

Some of us had mothers who were kind and wise —

it’s a wonder we can relate at all.

 

• Eileen Malloy

 

 

When Death Comes

 

When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox; when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it . . .

 

• Tom Pathe

 

 

 

Place Your Own James Brown Scream Here

 

Hey out there

All you Samantabhadras

And Samantabhadris

All you

Desu Masu

Manjushri

Mantra trillers

Shakyamuni

Swing time dancers

Did you

Get

The Duchamp

&

Papa

Mukpo

Memo?

That art is

Functional

Accidentally

Decorative

Always

Love

&

What is love?

Ah Ah Ah

&

Ah Ah Ah

No more

No less

 

Want

& Roll

 

Sing &

Change

 

Climb the cross

&

Jump

 

Just

jump

On

down

To the

Pure land

 

You

Know where

And you’ll

Know when

 

Now

I call them pomes and not poems as a bow to all the real poets, and also the Naropa poets who really rejected the label “poets” or “poetry” . . . preferring to identify themselves as “writers”. I am not a writer either but I do write pomes.

• Wendell Beavers

 

Even Mick Jagger Gets Old

Sky slowly reddens in the east

six eighteen in the morning

ducks restive on the pond,

movement among the branches

as sun tracks its course

across the southern sky,

blazing noon then drifting towards dusk

 

Holding you in my arms

for the first time,

your open gaze

upon the rippling curtain behind me,

March wind, open window,

nothing fixed, just play of the moment–

we were the ones captivated by the clock

 

Delighted how the pulse of each day

grows stronger

yet

impossible to slow down the seasons

block the sun,

or tame the naked rivers–

even Mick Jagger gets old

 

Podcast 22

Appreciate that your prevailing narrative

podcast,

lively and analytical that will guide you

through such troubled times

 

This week opened with an ad,

learning that National Advisors Group

will protect you from all the risks

that the world around you could ever bring

 

Then on to the narrative of how such incisive leader,

Vladimir Putin, relentlessly hectored by NATO

and the hegemonic, righteous of the West,

struggles to safeguarding his country

with pitiless artillery and airstrikes

 

Can’t help but notice, as you coo,

that this fellow,

slowed and stymied, repudiated and resisted,

continues wantonly to destroy and disfigure

 

Perhaps, as you point out, that

only strategy and shadowplay truly counts

when weighing and balancing the options—

Rome was never destroyed in a day

 

At last you wrap up your two hours

then traipse over to Lunetta’s on Pico Blvd.

for an L.A.D. burger,

breathlessly preparing for next topic

The Tinder Swindler

 

Southern Sky

Never cluttered

Southern sky

indifferent to

before or after—let’s play

from Spring to Summer,

Summer to Autumn

and then Winter chill

 

On halcyon days

bright early morning star

abides unapologetic

silently

hovering high

before dawn

without care or destination

 

Early jets head West,

tanks brimming with fuel,

their red, green, and white lights,

steady or strobe,

gradually ascend

while cradling

restive loners, inquisitive kids

 

Morning sun rising fresh above Atlantic waves

launching yet another journey

across the sky,

slowly inching regal at ten,

haughty at noon,

then spawning restive shadows

toward closure of dusk

 

Diamonds, Gold and Emeralds

Diamonds

always open

indestructible

impossible to grasp

Gold

richness of being

enjoying itself

intriguing depth

and

relishing each moment

fresh & uncontrived

beyond the clutch of label

 

Emeralds

all-accomplishing action

responsiveness sans agenda

cyclone of immediacy

 

Ebey’s Landing

 

Colonel Isaac Ebey

first permanent white resident of Whidbey Island

claimed six hundred and forty acres of farmland

overlooking Admiralty Inlet on Puget Sound;

along with his wife Rebecca and their two sons,

built his dock and

successfully planted wheat and potatoes

 

He was a presence,

often known by the local tribes

as  the Hyas Tyee or “the great chief.”

November, 1856 a party of Haida warriors

sailed into Puget Sound on long canoes

only to be thwarted by U.S. garrison stationed

near Port Gamble

 

In the midst of that battle the Haida

suffered the death of one of its chiefs.

Custom demanded that a chief of the enemy

had to be killed as revenge;

August, 1957 they returned,

knocked on Colonel Isaac Ebey’s door

and shot him dead as

rest of the family safely sheltered in the blockhouse

 

Today,

Ebey’s Landing is national historic reserve

offering scenic, recreational and interpretive opportunities

for visitors;

coastal bluff trail is a three mile loop hike

with some steep and sandy sections—

wildlife abounds

• Frank Ryan

 

Friendship

Real friends never leave each other, never part. They just sometimes sit silently, deep within each other’s heart, saying, “I’m just here if you need me.”

Friendship is impossible to keep within yourself, it will always extend as far as it can reach to touch your hearts. Exactly like the way you touched mine.

You were someone I didn’t know before; you were someone I don’t expect I will get along with. But it turned out you have given me one of the best friendships ever. Thank you.

True bonding is not measured by the time spent together or the favors done for each other but by the comfort you find when you realize that you care for each other.

Friendship is not a game to play, it is not a word to say, it doesn’t start in March and end in May, it is tomorrow, yesterday, today and every day.

• Max Brown

 

Senryu II

An angel farted

Flattening the garden plants

For 13 seconds

• Maddy Radish