After reading too much Langston Hughes I got a headache
The Black and White Johnson’s
I am the son of Madam Alberta K Johnson
Who had her name spelt
Not in English or Roman
But in American
‘Cause American was good too
I was named after a Barbie doll
And my middle name is a Barbie doll too
In 1961 Barbie met her boyfriend
In 1961 Midge got dated too
In 1961 my birth got dated too
When did we become white?
My Immagrant Nudge Mamma
Was told she need not apply
So she went back to Hungary
Relived how bad it was
And immigrated back again
‘Cause "At least the babies don’t die"
Still she need not apply
After my Grandparents divorce
My Dad went into the Marines
Came out and the GI Bill sent him to
Syracuse University
Like a white paintbrush dun de-Minstrel Showed him
And there he met my Mom
The name Johnson comes from the Ireland
My Grandfather was a Hugh, and my Dad a Hugh too
Peoples used to call and dey’d say
"Hello is Hugh dere?"
And we’d say "Yah I’se hee-yuh!"
After a revival Church sing
We hosted a tenor in my brothers bunk bed.
Said the brother,
"I hopes I crawl in da right bed
"Cause I don wan a crawl inna bed wid no spook!"
Whenever I fill out forms I
Always cross out () WHITE
And write in the margins
Modern American melting pot need not apply son of a
no club member mongrel,
And a proud one too!
Welcome friends, come in. When I started this, I thought friends would leave more comments, offer criticism. Hence I called it the "Composted Works"... thinking they'd change over time. Since, only 2 here. FaceBook friends are also welcome to comment there (hint!) Of course,you can still shovel it your roses. PS: Each post/poem is copywright as/of the original posting date. Most pics, however, are shamelessly 'borrowed' off Google, and not owned at all by me.
Monday, April 6, 2015
Saturday, March 14, 2015
The Ice Maker
Every have one of those days when you just don’t remember turning it on?
The Ice Maker
Tap water hisses up the tube
In an esoteric spurt
And silently pools in the tray
With an equally mute squirt
Then crack a brack like everyday
More ice cubes in the tray
I know nobody has turned on
The ice machine today
It certainly was never me
It’s 35 outside
And Christine could have not done so
March requires no iced drinks
The cats are playing coy, of course
I asked and not a mew
There’s mystery afoot today
And I have yet to get a clue
Look, there’s water at the kitchen door
See it slides across the floor
To right before the fridgidaire
Where frozen things get stored
And, down the outside kitchen steps
New snow tracks have been made
They traipse the walk and cross the yard
Where to The Snowman stands unbowed
As a jest we made him yesterday
When the sky was cast in cloud
We’ve a clear blue dome above us now
And the sun shines high and proud
It melts my heart to know of one
Who can’t welcome warm Spring
I’m powerless to change his World,
Or hush what Nature soon may sing
Retreating in to where it’s warm
I’m heartsick of his fate
Then crack a brack like everyday
I see compassion’s way
I took the tray and cubes to him
I laid them round his feet
And said to him, soul without out sin
Pray these forestall the heat

The Ice Maker
Tap water hisses up the tube
In an esoteric spurt
And silently pools in the tray
With an equally mute squirt
Then crack a brack like everyday
More ice cubes in the tray
I know nobody has turned on
The ice machine today
It certainly was never me
It’s 35 outside
And Christine could have not done so
March requires no iced drinks
The cats are playing coy, of course
I asked and not a mew
There’s mystery afoot today
And I have yet to get a clue
Look, there’s water at the kitchen door
See it slides across the floor
To right before the fridgidaire
Where frozen things get stored
And, down the outside kitchen steps
New snow tracks have been made
They traipse the walk and cross the yard
Where to The Snowman stands unbowed
As a jest we made him yesterday
When the sky was cast in cloud
We’ve a clear blue dome above us now
And the sun shines high and proud
It melts my heart to know of one
Who can’t welcome warm Spring
I’m powerless to change his World,
Or hush what Nature soon may sing
Retreating in to where it’s warm
I’m heartsick of his fate
Then crack a brack like everyday
I see compassion’s way
I took the tray and cubes to him
I laid them round his feet
And said to him, soul without out sin
Pray these forestall the heat

Thursday, February 5, 2015
Whitey Still Sleeps In
For the uninitiated, Whitey B is our resident Woodchuck. We named her Whitey B as, with a white muzzle she resembled that infamous Whitey B- who now wears orange and is soon to be played by Johnny Depp.
We thought she was a male, until the first litter.
Whitey Still Sleeps In
Whether six more weeks of Winter
Or that Spring starts in Mid-March
There’s just been laid three feet of snow
Like cotton sheets, flat starched
Our woodchuck Whitey dug her nest
Beneath our screened-in porch
And as you’d think this time of year
We have not seen her much
We’ve heard from Phil, he’s seen the sun
Gen. Beauregard has too
Yet Whitey’s threshold’s all drift snow,
One guess what Whitey knows
Today we ask Groundhogs to tell,
When will our Spring begin?
But we’ve no answer poking forth,
Our Whitey’s sleeping in.
This snow cloud day of overshade
Will cast no silhouettes,
So what’s her grounds for stirring out?
She’ll see no shadow,
Anyway…
We thought she was a male, until the first litter.
Whitey Still Sleeps In
Whether six more weeks of Winter
Or that Spring starts in Mid-March
There’s just been laid three feet of snow
Like cotton sheets, flat starched
Our woodchuck Whitey dug her nest
Beneath our screened-in porch
And as you’d think this time of year
We have not seen her much
We’ve heard from Phil, he’s seen the sun
Gen. Beauregard has too
Yet Whitey’s threshold’s all drift snow,
One guess what Whitey knows
Today we ask Groundhogs to tell,
When will our Spring begin?
But we’ve no answer poking forth,
Our Whitey’s sleeping in.
This snow cloud day of overshade
Will cast no silhouettes,
So what’s her grounds for stirring out?
She’ll see no shadow,
Anyway…
020415
While writing yesterday, out the window I watched a hawk soaring. But not for long.
Decided to call this '020415' 'cause at New England Audubon centers they don't believe in giving wild birds pet names.
020415
That kettling Hawk circles like a marionette
Strung from the grayclouds flyspace
A dip, a wing, a curl, and a stoop
Open toes first fore his feather rudder legs
He dives behind the neighbors house,
Have you seen the woodchuck?
I don’t even see the Hawk.
Decided to call this '020415' 'cause at New England Audubon centers they don't believe in giving wild birds pet names.
020415
That kettling Hawk circles like a marionette
Strung from the grayclouds flyspace
A dip, a wing, a curl, and a stoop
Open toes first fore his feather rudder legs
He dives behind the neighbors house,
Have you seen the woodchuck?
I don’t even see the Hawk.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
The Dark ‘n Stormy
This tome, while a found remembory of Christine and I watching a New England Hurricane, from the safety of our porch, is dedicated to the peoples of Bermuda whom are getting a real one this weekend.
PS; like you don't know, The 'Dark 'n Stormy' is a drink popular with Bermuda yachters in inclement weather.
The Dark ‘n Stormy (to the Vanaria Family, to who we are $500 grateful)
Two thirds a can of ginger beer
two shots of back strap rum
By four o’clock I’ll have two more
by five o’clock I’m done
‘Yesterday this hurricane was a cat three storm.’
‘Hon, this is New England, it won’t even be a cat one by the time it gets here.’
‘But a cat three, a cat one, the storm… it’s a cat!’
Behind our house the neighbors yard
abuts ours ‘cross the way
They run a lawn and yard care co,
so they’re out at work today
‘When that cat creeps in, will it be on tiny fog-feet?’
‘That’s Sandburg!’
We shared a snack of Frito Scoops,
which we dipped in cottage cheese,
The latter which our cat Max licked,
just as casual as you please
‘Max get away from that.’
‘With the wind coming in off the ocean, that makes this stawm a Naw’ Eastah!’
‘Should we color Naw-Eastah eggs?’
As we drank up on our safe porch chairs
then the wind began to roar,
And soon, a soft rain pelted down,
which grew to a downpour,
Which once then blew on Max our cat,
as he ran in through the door
‘If there’s thunder I’m going in. Lightening can still strike here, even under a porch roof.’
(She’s always scared of lightening)
I’m told that Barrits’ is the best,
but that is rare to find.
So Goslings’ more than adequate,
‘You want another round?’
‘Another Dark ‘n Stormy?’
‘Thee Dark n’ Stormy!’
A stiff almighty wind blew hard,
we heard a crackling sound,
Then boom and rush as it came down,
and quaked the sodden ground
‘Holy Crap did you see?
‘A tree just fell!’
And a shocked moment later,
‘Did it fall on our yard or on theirs?
‘From here, it looks like half and half, but I can’t tell in this storm.’
The rain let up, the wind died down,
our tempest tamed and calmed
Excepting gray clouds overhead,
‘The eye within the storm.’
‘Give me your phone, I’m going to take pictures of that tree, and then you can email it to the insurance.’
I’ll often choose the Kracken, spiced
But Black Seal does the job,
A Domain de Canton shot too is nice,
But right now I’m in the bag.
She got an email before bed,
‘They say that for a tree like that, they’ll pay one thousand bucks, but we have a deductible of the first five hundred bucks’
‘Five Hundred? Yeah, that’s good!’
Next morning we woke to the sound
of a chainsaw grawing wood,
‘Look, theirs the neighbors hired guy…’
‘He’s hauling off our tree!’
Ka-Ching!
‘Baby, when the check arrives, just put it in the bank.’
‘What?’
‘Shhh! Money!’
PS; like you don't know, The 'Dark 'n Stormy' is a drink popular with Bermuda yachters in inclement weather.
The Dark ‘n Stormy (to the Vanaria Family, to who we are $500 grateful)
Two thirds a can of ginger beer
two shots of back strap rum
By four o’clock I’ll have two more
by five o’clock I’m done
‘Yesterday this hurricane was a cat three storm.’
‘Hon, this is New England, it won’t even be a cat one by the time it gets here.’
‘But a cat three, a cat one, the storm… it’s a cat!’
Behind our house the neighbors yard
abuts ours ‘cross the way
They run a lawn and yard care co,
so they’re out at work today
‘When that cat creeps in, will it be on tiny fog-feet?’
‘That’s Sandburg!’
We shared a snack of Frito Scoops,
which we dipped in cottage cheese,
The latter which our cat Max licked,
just as casual as you please
‘Max get away from that.’
‘With the wind coming in off the ocean, that makes this stawm a Naw’ Eastah!’
‘Should we color Naw-Eastah eggs?’
As we drank up on our safe porch chairs
then the wind began to roar,
And soon, a soft rain pelted down,
which grew to a downpour,
Which once then blew on Max our cat,
as he ran in through the door
‘If there’s thunder I’m going in. Lightening can still strike here, even under a porch roof.’
(She’s always scared of lightening)
but that is rare to find.
So Goslings’ more than adequate,
‘You want another round?’
‘Another Dark ‘n Stormy?’
‘Thee Dark n’ Stormy!’
A stiff almighty wind blew hard,
we heard a crackling sound,
Then boom and rush as it came down,
and quaked the sodden ground
‘Holy Crap did you see?
‘A tree just fell!’
And a shocked moment later,
‘Did it fall on our yard or on theirs?
‘From here, it looks like half and half, but I can’t tell in this storm.’
The rain let up, the wind died down,
our tempest tamed and calmed
Excepting gray clouds overhead,
‘The eye within the storm.’
‘Give me your phone, I’m going to take pictures of that tree, and then you can email it to the insurance.’
I’ll often choose the Kracken, spiced
But Black Seal does the job,
A Domain de Canton shot too is nice,
But right now I’m in the bag.
She got an email before bed,
‘They say that for a tree like that, they’ll pay one thousand bucks, but we have a deductible of the first five hundred bucks’
‘Five Hundred? Yeah, that’s good!’
Next morning we woke to the sound
of a chainsaw grawing wood,
‘Look, theirs the neighbors hired guy…’
‘He’s hauling off our tree!’
Ka-Ching!
‘Baby, when the check arrives, just put it in the bank.’
‘What?’
‘Shhh! Money!’
Friday, October 10, 2014
Around Night Lake
I haven't been back to Lake Dunmore in more than two years.
I miss it.
Around Night Lake
Within her infinite black pool,
mirror stars now bathe and cool,
From on her dock, on these dark planks
I see headlights blare on her banks,
who strobe and search enlightened trees
that move in waves with black nights breeze,
I watch the lights, the curls they make,
as circle they, around night lake
Upon her shores by this old dock,
gay amber fireflies swarm and flock,
they carelessly blink as they please,
and jest with Nature at their ease,
As new mock Heavens now they make,
on paths they teeming nightly take,
as gaily dance they ‘round night lake
Miss Cameo Moon then lights for me,
a flaming silhouetted tree
as over the mountain now she climbs,
Ascendant in clear night she mimes
her smiling lips, they purse for mine,
our whispered thoughts, they rise and twine,
we muse and court, she is too kind,
While loving faced, cool stars she rakes,
as she processes ‘round night lake
Four loves my hand shall hold tonight,
Miss Moon, Night Lake, Wee Stars and Sky,
As no wed man was ever loved,
so gently kissed, so well thought of,
as I’m seduced in glitter mist,
by her below and they above
Yet lights shall pall, they ebb their glow,
when blanket clouds begin to grow,
And lorn by dark, to sleep I’ll go,
soon, to return, as a dreaming spectral visage,
I radial lume my glisten shimmers,
with starlight sparkling frission shivers,
Upon her lips cool waves I make,
As round I go again,
Night Lake
I miss it.
Around Night Lake
Within her infinite black pool,
mirror stars now bathe and cool,
From on her dock, on these dark planks
I see headlights blare on her banks,
who strobe and search enlightened trees
that move in waves with black nights breeze,
I watch the lights, the curls they make,
as circle they, around night lake
Upon her shores by this old dock,
gay amber fireflies swarm and flock,
they carelessly blink as they please,
and jest with Nature at their ease,
As new mock Heavens now they make,
on paths they teeming nightly take,
as gaily dance they ‘round night lake
Miss Cameo Moon then lights for me,
a flaming silhouetted tree
as over the mountain now she climbs,
Ascendant in clear night she mimes
her smiling lips, they purse for mine,
our whispered thoughts, they rise and twine,
we muse and court, she is too kind,
While loving faced, cool stars she rakes,
as she processes ‘round night lakeFour loves my hand shall hold tonight,
Miss Moon, Night Lake, Wee Stars and Sky,
As no wed man was ever loved,
so gently kissed, so well thought of,
as I’m seduced in glitter mist,
by her below and they above
Yet lights shall pall, they ebb their glow,
when blanket clouds begin to grow,
And lorn by dark, to sleep I’ll go,
soon, to return, as a dreaming spectral visage,
I radial lume my glisten shimmers,
with starlight sparkling frission shivers,
Upon her lips cool waves I make,
As round I go again,
Night Lake
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
The Junco
Winter is still far off, today this is just my warm up.
The Junco
The Junco, he’s a ball of fat
In feathers made of soot
His belly matches, white and chill,
The snow under his foot
You never see him all the year,
He never stops here by,
Until mid-Winter blizzards blow
And snow is piling high
Then at your birdseeed he will peck,
And squeak unmelodious songs
No others birds will come with him,
To them he’s just all wrong
The Snowbird is his other name
For that is when he shows,
Yet where is he the hot green year?
I wonder where he goes…
To Iceland or the Arctic North,
Where whither has he dwelt?
This frosty fellow sure is queer,
I hope he doesn’t melt…
The Junco
The Junco, he’s a ball of fat
In feathers made of soot
His belly matches, white and chill,
The snow under his foot
You never see him all the year,
He never stops here by,
Until mid-Winter blizzards blow
And snow is piling high
Then at your birdseeed he will peck,
And squeak unmelodious songs
No others birds will come with him,
To them he’s just all wrong
The Snowbird is his other name
For that is when he shows,
Yet where is he the hot green year?
I wonder where he goes…
To Iceland or the Arctic North,
Where whither has he dwelt?
This frosty fellow sure is queer,
I hope he doesn’t melt…
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