Five Poems from Home
1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker
[Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]
Let it be said,
Dorothy Parker lies dead,
cremated to ash and poetry; thus,
she died at the ripe old age
of seventy-three.
The tiny woman with a big mouth,
who got caught in the rain
and couldn’t get out:
continued to play the game,
all the same,
like drops of rain
upon a pane.
#713 6/2005
2) Changing me
If I’d not be so frank
I’d not create such a stink.
If I’d not be so stubborn,
I’d sleep well in the summer.
If I’d not curse at the bad
I’d be happier and glad.
But I shall remain the way I am
Because I don’t give a damn!
#712 7/5/05
3) Inertia
When I was young
Strong and bold
Right was wrong,
And