Kindling—Or Embers?

Photo by Carl Bernard Schwartz, Sacramento

POETRY WITH FANGS
—Carl Bernard Schwartz

Proud whole families support
Pop Warner football.
Pancakes, waffles, and fritters are
Packed with flavor.
Pirates wander freely over
Powdery white froth,
Pummeling, wounding, fighting, under
Pompously wicked flags.
Pagan witch fantasies
Paint women falsely, until
Priests wearing frocks
Punish when frightened.
People wish for
Perfection without frills,
Perhaps waiting forever.

_________________

BESPOKE UMBRELLA
—Carl Bernard Schwartz

Evidence carefully gathered
from early through modern
history supports the proposition
that rain is more likely to fall
in areas where English is spoken
predominantly with a British accent.

It is truly astounding that struggling
farmers in the Dust Bowl region of
the United States of America have
not picked up on this truth and
staunchly launched a drive to
encourage everyone, young and old,
to adopt the British accent as their
everyday tongue. 

Perhaps the federal Department of
Agriculture needs to take a vanguard
role in changing the culture and hire a
Prime Minister of Rain Bearing Clouds,
whose prime mission would be to adjust
the dialects spoken in these United States
until they more appropriately reflect the
weather we both need and desire to have.

TTFN

__________________

A JOY SO SMALL

—Carl Bernard Schwartz

Sinking, drowning in a
sea of self doubt

Forget about lowering a
lifeboat, too weak to
climb in, too dazed to
set a course, bitten from
head to toe by constant
attacks from failure and
apathy, sinking, drowning

Need far more help than
was earned, all those
bridges that were left to
burn…

A line is thrown, another
gaff?  No, this one is a
ring, maybe some help to
safety or maybe just another
bullet point on someone
else’s agenda

For now it is a joy so small
it defies measure,
so very, very small

__________________

A BIT OF JOY
—Carl Bernard Schwartz

A foursome of neighborhood
grade-school kids came to the door
and asked, Rake your leaves?

How much?
Two dollars, sir.
OK.

With their three rakes and a shovel
they quickly created several large
piles of golden, yellow leaves and
I helped put them in the dumpster,
which rose beyond their reach. 

The four lads took turns climbing in
atop the leaves to stomp them down,
doing much better than I could have
done, and having more fun doing it.
They chatted about what groceries
they might purchase with their earnings.

The next day, more wind, more
leaves fallen. I hope those kids
return.

___________________

Today's LittleNip:

Joy can be kindling for larger warm feelings, or it can be their dying embers.
 

—Carl Bernard Schwartz

___________________

—Medusa

Photo by Carl Bernard Schwartz