—Poetry by Ken Tomaro, Cleveland, OH
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA
GOOD DEEDS, BAD TIMING
always a missed opportunity
I see stories often, and videos
of random strangers
helping or befriending a helpless bumblebee
giving it water, moving it to safety
and I want to be one of these people
I saw a bumblebee just sitting there on the sidewalk
clearly in need of help,
perhaps a little emotional support
so I decided to move it to a nearby tree
away from the stomping feet of humankind
a place where it could sit for a while
under the shade of the tree
pondering its own life,
its place in all this
a moment to recharge
and, lost in my own thoughts
of such a good deed,
a positive mark in such a cruel world
I failed to see it was already dead
always a missed opportunity
I see stories often, and videos
of random strangers
helping or befriending a helpless bumblebee
giving it water, moving it to safety
and I want to be one of these people
I saw a bumblebee just sitting there on the sidewalk
clearly in need of help,
perhaps a little emotional support
so I decided to move it to a nearby tree
away from the stomping feet of humankind
a place where it could sit for a while
under the shade of the tree
pondering its own life,
its place in all this
a moment to recharge
and, lost in my own thoughts
of such a good deed,
a positive mark in such a cruel world
I failed to see it was already dead
THE CONTINUING SAGA OF GOOD DEEDS GONE BAD
and there goes another one,
one more missed opportunity
to do good in a very bad world
this time it was a small finch
sitting fat on the sidewalk
toward the corner of the building, motionless
I thought I would pick it up, moving it to safety
and then I thought, what’s the point?
what if it’s diseased?
what if I contract a bird flu?
what if it attacks me?
and then I went back to my initial thought
as I walked over to pick it up
unlike last time, the bird was very much alive
and flew away quickly, looking back as if to say,
“Don’t touch me, asshole!”
and there goes another one,
one more missed opportunity
to do good in a very bad world
this time it was a small finch
sitting fat on the sidewalk
toward the corner of the building, motionless
I thought I would pick it up, moving it to safety
and then I thought, what’s the point?
what if it’s diseased?
what if I contract a bird flu?
what if it attacks me?
and then I went back to my initial thought
as I walked over to pick it up
unlike last time, the bird was very much alive
and flew away quickly, looking back as if to say,
“Don’t touch me, asshole!”
THIS TRULY IS NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
I was born too late
born into a world that cared only of itself
and it’s been that way ever since
I want the bartender who doubles as my therapist
but doesn’t judge my mess of a life
I got the bartender who has no words of wisdom,
no words for me at all
I want the diner waitress
who knows me by name like an old friend
I got the diner waitress
who’s too busy for even a smile
I want people to think of me as the pillar
of any establishment I walk into
“He’s lead an interesting life!”
I have, I just don’t know it yet
maybe back in the late ‘90s
when Green Day had that one good song
my Holly Hobby life
my Buckcherry life
in 2005 or so it was a John Wayne’s kind of life
and everyone around me was dying of cancer
now, right now
many, many years later on a late evening in 2022
with no flying cars
and self-driving cars that crash and kill people
and the plague
and monkeypox
and a case of polio here and there
I sit in a gin bar
don’t ask for vodka, they don’t have it
I tell the bartender I’m taking it slow
I have people coming
a phrase I have never spoken in my life
I’m staring at the television above the bar like it was on;
it is not
I’m watching traffic and people go by
in the reflection of the screen
like a weekly series no one wants to miss
one of those shows
people at work ask you about on Monday morning
“Did you catch the latest episode?”
and I can say I did and it was a thrill a minute
no one but me notices the television is off
the bartender adds bitters to a cocktail,
just a couple drops
and it makes a difference, to all of us
I was born too late
born into a world that cared only of itself
and it’s been that way ever since
I want the bartender who doubles as my therapist
but doesn’t judge my mess of a life
I got the bartender who has no words of wisdom,
no words for me at all
I want the diner waitress
who knows me by name like an old friend
I got the diner waitress
who’s too busy for even a smile
I want people to think of me as the pillar
of any establishment I walk into
“He’s lead an interesting life!”
I have, I just don’t know it yet
maybe back in the late ‘90s
when Green Day had that one good song
my Holly Hobby life
my Buckcherry life
in 2005 or so it was a John Wayne’s kind of life
and everyone around me was dying of cancer
now, right now
many, many years later on a late evening in 2022
with no flying cars
and self-driving cars that crash and kill people
and the plague
and monkeypox
and a case of polio here and there
I sit in a gin bar
don’t ask for vodka, they don’t have it
I tell the bartender I’m taking it slow
I have people coming
a phrase I have never spoken in my life
I’m staring at the television above the bar like it was on;
it is not
I’m watching traffic and people go by
in the reflection of the screen
like a weekly series no one wants to miss
one of those shows
people at work ask you about on Monday morning
“Did you catch the latest episode?”
and I can say I did and it was a thrill a minute
no one but me notices the television is off
the bartender adds bitters to a cocktail,
just a couple drops
and it makes a difference, to all of us
UNFORGETTABLE
we camped out in a friend’s backyard
surrounded by nothing but cornfields
and neighboring yards that stretched for miles
a bonfire lit the pitch-black sky the night before
it was a late August morning
just before school was back in full swing
my clothes were drenched
in the smell of the still-burning wood embers
there was a light fog and I could see my breath in the cool air
I was awake and alive
with a messy head of hair
ready for life
even if I knew not what was coming
wearing nothing more than a thin hoodie
yet unflinched by the chill in the air
I pulled the hood over my messy hair
and put my hands in my pockets
we said our friendly goodbyes
knowing we would see each other again tomorrow
or the next day
or when school started back up soon
these are the memories you can’t recreate,
no matter how hard you try
the air is cool now too
and I am drowsy
wanting nothing more than a long sleep
the same sleep the flowers and trees fall in to
as they bring the earthly blanket tightly to their chin
before closing their eyes for winter
and now I say my goodbyes
to the flowers and trees
knowing it may be some time
before I see them again
we camped out in a friend’s backyard
surrounded by nothing but cornfields
and neighboring yards that stretched for miles
a bonfire lit the pitch-black sky the night before
it was a late August morning
just before school was back in full swing
my clothes were drenched
in the smell of the still-burning wood embers
there was a light fog and I could see my breath in the cool air
I was awake and alive
with a messy head of hair
ready for life
even if I knew not what was coming
wearing nothing more than a thin hoodie
yet unflinched by the chill in the air
I pulled the hood over my messy hair
and put my hands in my pockets
we said our friendly goodbyes
knowing we would see each other again tomorrow
or the next day
or when school started back up soon
these are the memories you can’t recreate,
no matter how hard you try
the air is cool now too
and I am drowsy
wanting nothing more than a long sleep
the same sleep the flowers and trees fall in to
as they bring the earthly blanket tightly to their chin
before closing their eyes for winter
and now I say my goodbyes
to the flowers and trees
knowing it may be some time
before I see them again
A WELL INTENTIONED THOUGHT
the good thing about bad days,
I heard someone say,
is they can only get better
and I wanted to say,
“Well, I’ve got news for you”
but I didn’t really have bad news
the sun is setting earlier these days
and the crickets are chirping non-stop in the dark
they are deafeningly loud and horny
the moon looks like it’s been sliced in half
and we’re still searching for the fallen half
down here on earth
and six years ago today
for a couple hours
I didn’t hate life
things are good for now
and half of me, like the moon
hasn’t quite given up
the good thing about bad days,
I heard someone say,
is they can only get better
and I wanted to say,
“Well, I’ve got news for you”
but I didn’t really have bad news
the sun is setting earlier these days
and the crickets are chirping non-stop in the dark
they are deafeningly loud and horny
the moon looks like it’s been sliced in half
and we’re still searching for the fallen half
down here on earth
and six years ago today
for a couple hours
I didn’t hate life
things are good for now
and half of me, like the moon
hasn’t quite given up
Today’s LittleNip:
Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.
―John Muir
____________________
Today’s new Kitchen visitor, Ken Tomaro, is a writer living in Cleveland, Ohio, whose work reflects everyday life with depression. His poetry has appeared in several online and print journals and explores the common themes we all experience in life—sometimes blunt, often dark, but always grounded in reality. He has four full-length collections of poetry; his most recent, Potholes and Perogies, is available on Amazon at www.amazon.com/Potholes-Perogies-Ken-Tomaro/dp/B09X1ZLJVL/. Welcome to the Kitchen, Ken, and don’t be a stranger!
____________________
—Medusa
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