Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Archive for the month “July, 2014”

I Shall Be Happy

I shall be happy

If the cold winds avoid

My occasionally naked hinder.


Or if the wine is good

But not necessarily great.


If the grass soothes me

But does not make me stupid.


I am a man of moderation

But I surely hate a cold ass.

Dancer, go!


As the years increase,

I vow to make a last-ditch effort

To ignore the growing fatigue,

The hypertension, the fear.


A hoper,

A dope-high dreamer,

Failing to note the flicker

In this fantasy verité

And that sheer opacity ahead.


Dancer, go!

Fuete forever…

Bald head gleaming in the light,

The black light that glows your bridgework,

Distracting from the faulty steps.


Only you, there

In the audience,

Stand to applaud my effort.

Heeding none but me,

And the dance that was just for you.

Bury Me Not

Bury me not.


I’m still alive.

Bemused, I read

In a local rag

A 50ish person termed


I’m nearly 70.

Literarily, then,

A grave evader.


Bury me not.


Three people watched.

One took a picture.

Three had stories,

One had proof.


But a picture

Becomes an orphan

If memory

Ever dies.

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