You Got Shoes

/ johnlmalone / 25 Comments

You got shoes.

They’re lined up,

toes towards the door.

mouths open,

these shoes got somewhere

to go.

They’re not stay-at[-home shoes..

They’re hit-the-road shoes

Get-out-of-my-way shoes,

They’re buzzing with energy.

Waz going to stay home,

work on my manuscript.

No chance.

Take me, take me, each pair calls.

Gotta decide fast.

I take my runners.

The speedy ones.

Lean. Mean.

Skedaddle.

Chuck on some clothes.

Out the door.

They hit the road.

They’re happy.

The others will get their turn.

Burn, burn, down the road.

crinkle the frosty grass

blow smoke

These vagabond shoes.

Kingdom

/ johnlmalone / 50 Comments

Kingdom.

        Before they carted her off to the nursing home, she wheeled herself down Chalmers where the old house stood. Though like her ‘stood’ was a very generous verb.

       She looked at it transfixed, crumbling and half hidden in what she thought of as ‘the kingdom of the weeds’. The house itself, slouching to the right, was inhabited by a mangy old tom and three louche ibis of uncertain age and character. And the thought came to her each time like a mantra:

          O God, please don’t let me end up like that – forgotten and unloved, but then she did. The relatives had been circling for months,  

The Bear Down Our Street

/ johnlmalone / 16 Comments

What are you doing? I ask.

Scratching my cerebrals, uncle says,

studying the crossword before him,

 scratching his scalp, between loose strands

 of sandy hair,

as though he has nits.

The more furious he scratches, the better he gets,

the crossword puzzle soon solved.

Perhaps I caught it from uncle

but whenever I work on a poem or a piece of stubborn flash fiction,

I take off my beanie

& scratch my cerebrals too

& then nail it !

I feel happy as the bear down our street that’s caught a fish.

My partner catches me at it one morning.

Stop it, you’ll go blind, she says.

We both chuckle.

It’s good to make light of things then go back

to scratching your cerebrals should things become difficult.

Zips

/ johnlmalone / 34 Comments

Zips.

Couldn’t help noticing

the chairs

me & Ross chat on

Sundays

have zips in ‘em.

How cool would it be, I thought,

if we came with zips —

 we come with a button —

then they wouldn’t have to cut us open

during surgery:

all they’d have to do is unzip us

and go in.

Why wasn’t a zip included

in our blueprint?

Where Did We Lose It?

/ johnlmalone / 19 Comments

Where Did we Lose it?

That’s me on the left.

I’m in the mall taking a break

next to Ross

only Ross isn’t talking.

He’s texting.

I sit back, look up, around.

Mr, Curiosity.

There’s a dad with his kid

though the kid isn’t with him.

He’s with the fairies

hopping and skipping

a few feet ahead,

There’s another dad with his kid.

Same story.

Must be dad’s day out with the kids.

Hey Ross, you got kids?

Lost cause.

Ross is still tethered —

and those kids

eyes bright as a blue sky

hopping and skipping,

free as butterflies,

dads one foot in front of the other.

Where did we lose it?

This joie de vivre?

Let Go

/ johnlmalone / 32 Comments

Let Go.

Let go, he says. Let go.

Let go?

Yes, you have to let go. I give you permission.

So I do.

I let go of all the baggage I have built up over the years.

I feel light and loose like a Scotch Terrier riding a Penny-farthing.

*pic by pinterest

Trains of Thought

/ johnlmalone / 27 Comments

Train of Thought.

Trains of thought have no schedule.

They are like cats. They have minds

of their own.

Trains of thought pull in when

you are busy doing something else

or drifting off to sleep.

They require no ticket, no payment

Only that you get on board and leave

your baggage behind.

They have their own itineraries

and take you places you may otherwise

never go.

Trains of thought run on the fuel of

Pure Imagination

Of which there are endless reserves.

This poem is a train of thought.

Thanks for coming on board,

*pic by pinterest

At Least Pruning is Biblical

/ johnlmalone / 22 Comments

At Least Pruning is Biblical.

Talking to my good friend, Karla , on the other side

of the Globe where ‘Autumn’ is ‘Fall’, I learn

it’s growing season over there: a lot of pruning

needs to be done.

                             At least pruning is Biblical, I say,

Jesus, among others did it,

                                 All I’m doing is washing,

hanging up clothes, bringing them in to dry.

Don’t get me started on ironing! Where’s that

in the Bible?

                                        There are no parables

about washing clothes, hanging them up to dry;

no texts to dignify the task.

                               Who did Jesus’s washing anyway?

*pic by pinterest

Dog: a Fantasy

/ johnlmalone / 27 Comments

Dog: a Fantasy

I went down to the dunes today

to let my inner dog go play

off she went chasing gulls

and beneath the boardwalk barked at trolls.

No , no I say . stick to the trail;

next thing you’ll be chasing whales;

so a scamper, romp, halfhearted run

& soon our little day was done.

So off we went along the trail

happily wagging our bushy tails.

*pic by pinterest