where are the old wanderers,
whatever happened to Steve>
a different holy book in hand every week,
the wise man of the thrift store.
“we just aren’t made for these times.”
you’ve either found the Way,
or the Way has found you,
though God was in no drug,
or back of a cereal box.
As years pass me wonder,
what couch is he crashing,
or wandering Tibet?
Or walking aisles of Lowes,
gathering supplies for his humble clan,
living quietly in suburban nirvana.
Perhaps those know know
don’t tell.
But no one tells me anything.
Sunlight entered the aquamarine potting shed from the east
Beating the master gardener by a few minutes or steps
Ruffled marigold seeds were waiting to be planted in seedling trays
It was March the fifteenth, an opportune time to get things started
Potting shed was feeling joyfully optimistic
She had been shivery cold for the past three months
Her owner had kept her heat at a steady sixty-seven degrees
Muskrats and field mice had left her crawlspace for warmer places.
Mrs. G. arrived carrying armloads of sacks marked Lowes.
Two gorgeous African violets were pulled out first.
Their purple color was exquisite, they were dark and velvety.
Potting shed felt elated when she saw the floral tool bag
Here was her good friend, Jay, the Japanese hand hoe,
Sheila, the sierrated farmer’s dagger
And Hattie, the shiny new trowel – were all eager to talk.
Mrs. G. worked with fresh new dirt and pots for five hours.
The second she left the whispering began.
The tools had been shoved into a closet.
They had not seen much, but they had heard a lot.
Potting Shed sat back and listened to the latest gossip.
One day I woke up with a
dream in my eyes,
Faith in which, then made me rise,
I felt broke prior to the day,
Now those broken,
beliefs and lies,
One day I woke up with a
dream in my eyes,
Dream for the nation,
Dream for the life,
Walk through the hell, on the edge of knife,
Struggle is the way,
When success is the prize,
One day I woke up with a
dream in my eyes,
To follow the dream,
One must have fire,
It takes time for burning desire,
patience is the key,
during lowes and highs,
One day I woke up with a
dream in my eyes,
Giving up is worst thing,
that you can do,
Get up and try again, Yes! you can do,
For everything happens,
for a reason wise,
One day I woke up with a
dream in my eyes,
One step towards,
the goal is fine,
One must be patient and hold the line,
Never ever settle,
until devil dies,
One day I woke up
with a dream in my eyes.
One day I woke up
with a dream in my eyes...
Another Springtime Chore
By Franklin Price
03/08/2022
I wrote of springtime yesterday
Of the flowers, birds and bees
And of the leaves and blossoms
On the bushes and the trees
Of the gardening and raking
That is needed out of doors
Not the things, I may be buying
At the Lowes and Walmart stores
This morning when I woke up
And my bare feet hit the wood
The dust I felt beneath them
Was anything but good
It was the house, reminding me,
Of the Springtime cleaning fun
For the vacuuming and mopping
I have been the chosen one
Barbara always did the dusting
That was always what she did
I may have to search the internet
For the lowest dusting bid
For she's no longer with me
To help me with the Springtime dust
I know she's grinning from above
I'll try to do it if I must
I guess we'll see just how it goes.
It may be Fall before I'm done.
I can also hear her laughter,
Although I'm having all the fun
I went to the market yesterday,
To buy some needed things;
Coffee and watermelon sorbet,
Pizza and buffalo wings;
Sugar, detergent, and shampoo,
And of course some chicken feed;
Couple of cans of Dinty Moore stew,
I hope that’s all I need!
the ride home.a bumpy road.i saw her,next to lowes.what a doe i thought,i bought
her inches,now she pinches me sides.eyes wide awake,i fake the night.