MY WIFE

multiplies life.

    Beware her fertile ground
    or grow.

Children top
but don’t exhaust
her list.

In need,
the one they call.

Indeed,
anticipates,
calls.

The rest of us know

God’s good deal.

    The two, in league,
    unwritten,
    nods, winks.
 
    Warm rains
    freshen her gardens. 

Tend-er.

DRK
6/18/13

 

ON TRACK        

I meet her occasionally;

we touch, talk,

remain briefly side by side.        

Then, unique in stride,

we separate,

a step at a time –

she, jogging, doing,             

not pressing me;                      

I, walking, composing,

not slowing her.  

          

Amazing grace and gravity

maintain the orbit                                                     

circling our commonality.

                                                     

Dennis R. Keefe,                          

2/11/09

        

 WATER PARK
(When Life Gets You Wet . . . )

Room beyond room,
the many watery this’s, hoses and thats,
sprinklers and buckets,
wading pools, wave pools, rivers with tubes,
slides of all sizes,
all duplicated outdoors,
amaze

as I sit

watching tote bags,
pool shoes, sun glasses,
kids’ unfinished drinks

and lead me to think.

Do we need all this,
    the karaoke kids
        lining up to sing Elmo’s theme song,
    the lifeguard patrols checking
        who’s having the wrong kind of fun?

Benefits?  Well,
not like a gym.
These holiday jocks play ball in the pool, cannonball friends
then leave rather quickly
to loll in the spa. 

The assets’ essentials, it seems, lay
in the host of distractions that occupy
kids -- child care with wild fare,
all just for fun.

It’s not quite that simple, of course.
Look closer.  Take yoga.
Warm pools to float weightless 
and set aside
there,
to concentrate
here
if not on your kids
on the one from back then
inside.

Young or old,
water can rinse away what’s in the way.
Here, without makeup and shoes,
we forget social rules
and just play.
Dude!  We’re all nearly nude!

Older youth who need something to do
can subdue challenges,
climb steps again and again.
Higher and higher, slide to slide
their success, color coded,
first fear
and then pride.

Younger imaginations?  They flourish 
in open spaces
with not-every-day toys
like hoses
and someone to spray.
It’s their chance to make a big splash
and some noise.

Long story short,
on that value-of-water-parks matter,
It comforts me to know
there are things one can do
better
wetter.


DRK
7/4/13
12/21/14

 

SIDES

 

Did you appreciate the shade?

I did my part today

Any good walnut tree would

The sun, then high in arc, has passed on

Now, low, near done

It highlights my undersides

 

Look up

Try a different angle

I have colors to show

Should you notice

 

 

DRK

10/11/20

7/21/23

 

 

RANDOM RHYTHMS FROM THE BEACH


HELLO, PELICAN --

Friendly, finicky,
perched on a rail --
ate its keeper’s fish
but not his shrimp --
and now its snout’s a-drip
with drool.

Pet-able by regulars
who know the drill,
it did not encourage me,
eyeing, sidling, inching away.

Nothing personal.
It’s probably natural
for Florida pelicans
to shun
touristy one-night
stands.


MEANDERING MANATEE

. . . seemed bored.

Cruised the beach
to catch the show --

volley-ballers
and surfers on boards --

all
unaware of the cow
just yards
beyond.

Tail and head surfacing,
its shadow drifted under the pier
and continued south.

TYPHOON LAGOON

Interrupted at Disney’s water park
by a two hour rain delay.
Insult compounded injury --
getting wet outside the pool.
Less than five innings played,
so had to stay.


NAKED BEACH YOGA

From the back,
just a strap
or two
tucked from view.
No curvy fannies, just butts.
Hands down, one leg up.
Down, dogs!
An imagination bust.


DRK
7/16/11

 

Ain’t We Got fun

In The Mornin’

                         

Newspapers, bagged and looped

o’er my ‘47 Schwinn,

pedaling east on a paper route 

I encountered a mountainside

bordering my Minnesota prairie town.                                        

The sun, about to rise, would

light this ersatz phenomenon,

expose its prairie absurdity

and shoo it off with the morning dew.   

I had to hurry to cruise its

short-lived vistas

and exotic avenues.

In The Evenin’          

Seated, wearied, in a western hotel bar,

we watched a Wasatch evening Alpenglow.

Sunlight crept up the mountainside

as the evening lifted the day away.                      

A sequence of hillside nighttime lights ensued,

featuring a red

flashing “U,” which . . . they said

meant the Utes

had won another game.

Celebrating, we ordered another round, the same.

                                                                                   

In the Meantime, In Between Time

From a low swale of creek-cooled air,

and damp-enhanced aromas

of magnolia, pine and pulp mill sulphur,

a wrist twist sent my Honda responding.

Its twin cylinder cycle vibes

thrust me up the far side

of the road dividing Georgia’s red clay earth

into the evening’s displaced warmth.

Ain’t We Got Fun.

Dennis R. Keefe

March 23, 2009 

"Ain't We got Fun," 1921.  Music, Richard A. Whiting.  Lyrics, Raymond B. Egan and Gus Kahn.

 

AMPHIBIFUN

Paid a frog a fee

Now my drive to town, fog free

Well, it worked today

And who is to say,

Some kind of God oddity

Or just poetry?

DRK

4/27/19