“Red Rover”

"Red Rover”

Alone on a First Friday, this poet peruses

the galleries casually and at a

leisurely pace

And then a tall, white haired artist peers

into my eyes and advises:

There’s a raffle at the Slocum House!

Hearing, but not paying any particular

attention, I believe

Somehow, I end up at the Slocum House

Just before eight

As I stroll in, somebody announces:

Drawing in five minutes

I amble over to a counter and

ask: How much?

I am told: Raffle tickets are free

as a woman presses one in my palm

Shortly, a number is read off out loud

I look at my ticket and

my number matches!

I show the speaker and am told:

You have won!

What sweet words to my ears!

I have not won anything in decades

Then, they show me what I have won:

“Red Rover,” a water color of a red,

wooden boat, moored by a pier,

bridge and sunrise in the backdrop

My heart bursts with enthusiasm!

I feel my luck pivot on its axis

The darkness of the evening is showered with

diamond starlight- my glass is again half full

The previous rue has faded- it is gone

Deep gratitude wells up my being

I have received so much more than

the painting I have won!

Yes! “Red Rover” I will come on over

I whisper as I do my little happy dance

RMK, November 2016. 

November 9, 2016,the day after

All kinds of choices swim around in my brain
I could decide to be depressed over this election

-or-

I could galvanize my creativity and imagination and brainstorm
what to do--Let's see, I could:

• organize a group of likeminded souls and have a seance to bring in Che Guevara-he probably knows what to do
• start a movement to write an amendment to eradicate the electoral college, so this never happens again!
• gather an army of poets and other artists to create a love happening.
• write a damn good letter to Mr. Trump threatening his (rumored) wee package, if he doesn't get it right
• actually put pen to paper and make some sound suggestions about how to bring the American people together
• make an Internet appeal for making the best of a bad situation
• suggest you jettison your dread. Give the guy a chance to unite us
• if he fails, we can always chop him into teeny weenie pieces and feed him to Mr. Putin
• a little poetic justice if I do say so myself!
• Your turn...

RMK on the current state of the Union.

Touched by a Ghost

What's the scaredest you've ever been?
Hearing a ghost climb our stairs,
walk down the hallway and stop at
our doors, then walk back down the hallway
like a sentry on duty and descend those
same stairs (used to scare the bejeezus
out of my sister and me) but that was
not my worst scare

No, not even going into the abandoned
"haunted house" up the Waddell Creek Road
and back into the deep woods, where we
knew we did not belong and having the door
slam shut after entering, on a dare
was not my worst scare

I've been grabbed by cold hands and pinched
in the dark by giggling friends in "haunted houses"
at Halloween and the county fair
Stephen King writes a horrific story,
It  comes to mind, but if you watch it enough
times the fright factor simmers way down
so, that's not my worst scare

No, the scaredest I've ever been was in
my own bed when I was only ten
I felt a firm grip through the blanket,
on my thigh
First, I pulled the covers over my head,
Then I peeked out and in the moonlight
Still in someone's grip, I saw that
nobody was there!

Footsteps were one thing, but
to actually be touched by an entity
with no visibility made me
instantly pray: Jesus! Make it go away!
The footsteps on the stair and in the hall
continued night after night, but the most
crucial part of  my prayer was answered,
I was never touched again. Whew!
And that friends, was the scaredest
I've ever been!

raintreepoet wishing you a mildly scary Halloween.

Denton Barber

Has a name ever popped

into your head

with no apparent

provocation and you wonder

What the hell?

Where did that come from?

And then another name is

immediately linked, like say

B.B. King?

Well. I was driving down the road

the other day when

Denton Barber & B.B. King

visited my mind

Now, it’s no surprise to me that B.B. King

tags along with Denton Barber because

Denton once took me to a B.B. King concert

Actually, it was Denton who turned me on

to B.B. King—music hmmm
 Denton was dapperand distinguished--Denton had style--

Then, I remember that Denton Barber & I met

in Radio classes at Centralia College

in the early 80s and Voila!

I notice I’ve been playing an 80s music station

on my car radio

Now, It’s all coming together

Suddenly I have another realization:

I’ve recently met a sax player who

reminds me of Denton Barber!

Tim, the sax player blew a sultry tune

behind a poet’s recitation and even

exchanged some sassy dialogue with him

And a few days later, I sit musing about

memory and firing synapses making connections

And Bingo, that answers my original question

about Denton Barber

It may have taken longer than Google

to bring me the answer, but

my organic computer did indeed deliver

Now, I think I’ll Google Denton Barber

and see what it tells me. Ah sweet progress

God bless Denton Barber for he is proof

positive I haven’t lost my mind, yet!

raintreepoet, pondering inevibilities.

"A picture is worth a thousand words."

It wasn't too difficult to put together this "Crazy Quilt." My only question is: How "Presidential" does this man really look?


raintreepoet, contemplating.

Commander in Chief

In 2005 Commander in Chief, the television series starring Geena Davis as McKenzie Allen as first woman president of the United States may have been short lived because our citizenry wasn’t ready for a woman in the presidency. Eleven years later, it could well become a reality.

If you are curious about how a woman president could/would lead, you can catch the series on Hulu Plus. I remember it well and was disappointed when it was cancelled. I am re-watching it now in anticipation of Hillary Clinton being our first female president.

Dictator Trump has done a fine job of smearing her, but when people are willing to research both

contenders, the choice becomes clear. Hillary is not as “crooked” as he is. She is a woman playing a man’s game and the better she does it the more it galls certain  gender-biased men, especially the Donald.

Hillary has been in public service for her entire career. She truly cares. This is the woman who wrote

 It Takes a Village  advocating  for children. She is a mother and a grandmother besides being a former Secretary of State , Senator, First lady in the White house and in Little Rock, Arkansas.

Service Service service!

What has Donald Trump done to help others? It is in the news recently that he has used charities as his bank and withdrew funds to pay for anything his little heart desires.  Things like paying off fines for his businesses and portraits of himself.

I cannot fathom why people who are struggling financially believe that this 1-percenter would help them in any way, but they do. So, this is not directed at those poor souls. However I do warn you,if he gets into the office and royally screws you, he will defend himself by telling you, "It's just business."

This I am directing at anyone with the critical thinking skills to weigh both sides. I know Hillary could benefit from charm school, but it’s a little late for that. I believe she will do what’s best for the most people and that is what democracy is all about. Her heart is in the right place.

I realize that you are probably disgusted with business as usual in our nation’s capital. You may think: Those Libertarians sound pretty good. Well, I think they sound pretty good too, however,the fact of the matter is if you throw your vote away on a third party you may be electing a dictator to the office. Please think this through. Vote wisely. (If you recall Hitler made great promises to save the German people, they believed him and look how that turned out!)

This is a quick essay, I could go into more detail on both sides, however, I would like you to go research it on your own, so you can believe what you read or at least half of it. Newspapers, magazines and television have to vet their information. Remember the Internet is still the wild wild West, so if that is how you decide to vote, it's a fool's game.

That’s all for now. All responses are welcome.

Raintreepoet, ruminating.

A Ditty Dedicated to the Donald!

Trumpy Trumpy

You make me jumpy

We never know where

Your mouth will go

You say this and

You say that and

I say Holy Hat!

How far will you go?

Insulting folks you don’t

Even know

You say you can handle crisis

That you are ‘presidential’

And know how to

Defeat ISIS

You say you’ll make Mexico

Build a wall—how?

You have secret plans

You won’t tell us now

You won’t disclose how rich you are

And believe your mouth will

Carry you far—you even act like

You think you’re a star

Talk is cheap

Peep peep peep

One thing many of us

Already knew

Is you don’t even

Have a clue

Trumpy Trumpy

You make me jumpy

We never know where

Your mouth will go

Daddy Sold the Farm

I live in a condo village now. I feel encroached upon

and think constantly about the pastoral peace of my 

childhood. I was raised on a half section of bucolic

rolling hills surrounded by evergreen forest and a fruit

orchard behind the ranch house. In three years I will retire.

 You can bet your sweet buttermilk, I'll be looking for a 

way to get back to country living. 

I wrote this song when I was 19 and fresh off the farm.

I have adapted over the years, but the yearning has never

left me.

[G]Life ain’t been the same since [D] Daddy sold the[G] farm

He[C] sold a little piece of my[D] soul and broke my[G] heart

[D]Those people cut the farm[C] into a thousand[D] plots

With a[C] thousand tract [D]houses and an[C] apple tree

In every[D] yard

The[G] land will never[C] be the same

Since[D] Daddy sold the[G] farm

[D]The man who bought it, said it would always be the[G] same

[C] That he loved Daddy’s land,[D] too, but[G] could he change the[D] name

[G]Well, it’s now Pleasant Valley ([D]What a lovely[G] name)

But since Daddy let him[C] change the name

It’s [D]never been the[G] same

[D]Daddy’s doin’ fine now, a hundred thousand, after[G] taxes

[C]Except he’s now[D] into a higher income[G] bracket

The man who loved Daddy’s land, [D]must be smilin’

Without a [G]care

Cuz there ain’t too many[C] taxes that’ll[D] hurt

A multi-[G]millionaire

(Repeat chorus-first stanza)

[D]I’m the only one who ain’t smiling[G] now

[C]Since I have to live in[G] town

And [D]raise my kids on pavement

Instead of grassy[G] ground

And the[D] values that I learned

Won’t keep them from much[G] harm

Cuz we have to be city[C]-dwellers

Since[D] Daddy sold the [G]farm!

(Repeat chorus)

This will be in my "A Farmer's Daughter" chapbook.

raintreepoet, reporting.

Kayakcident

Come boating with us,
 tomorrow, she implored
 I, by my nature, am not a water baby, but
 decide I need to stretch my spontaneity
 Ever cautious and wanting to sleep on it
   by morning I call to say: sounds like a grand idea!

 I am instructed to bring a swim suit,
  attire I have not worn in years

  Digging through a drawer, I find
 an old black bikini botto
 and supplement it with
a black, French-cut brassiere
 I’ve found that nobody’s the wiser,
  if you omit informing them.

 As I drive in I see that
 my friends Bob and Angie have\
a well-built vintage 19 foot wood boat,
  and Angie’s little 9 foot blue kayak
 attached tightly to the boat trailer
  Glorious hot day in the nineties
  Refreshing cool breeze on the Lewis River

  which is for the most part calm,

 smooth as an empty dinner platter
  except for the occasional level 1-2 rapids

 Angie paddles along, exploring the bank                       
 at her own pace, as Bob throws out a fish line
 and casually trolls for a bite Bob and I chat
 about politics and the economy
 We slide easily through a length of rapids

                        thinking nothing of it

  Then Angie offers me the kayak
and the adventuress in me burbles: Yes!
   I should interject here and now:
 First time in a kayak!
 The first rapids go by okay as I get
   my sea legs, by the second I am
   almost cocky

   It’s the third set, which increase to level 4
 that are hell-bent on humbling me and indeed they do!
  The consensus is that the wood boat

 will take the lead, as the water bucks high
 about the time they struggle with a whirlpool
    and holler: Back paddle!    which I was trying to do
 The kayak slams into the larger boat,
 pulled down in the swirling cool water
  my eyes open, it is crystalline and refreshing, 
holding my breath instinctively,
 there is no gasping or fear 
I simply propel myself up and
  grab a big root ball

 The kayak, wedged into the root ball
 is clearly stuck

 Angie yells at me to swim away
 or the whirlpool will pull me down
 The kayak paddle on one wrist
 big straw hat in other hand 
I   kick, mightily
as the current sweeps me like a buoyant
leaf, downstream

 Kicking for all I am worth
 I cover a football field’s length diagonally,
 before my feet find the rocky bottom
 So exhausted and grateful
 for the loaned life vest
 understanding in a heartbeat
how people’s lives are swallowed by rivers

   Wading back to the island
    I rejoin my friends 
who are ready to abandon their kayak
 saying: It is too dangerous
 to retrieve
 I hear myself say: We can at least try!
 We try lassoing it, to no avail
 Then a hero happens along
 and wrestles it off the root ball

 Joining him on the opposite shore,

 Bob gives the man $50 bucks
We notice he could use it
 to replace his inflatable kayak that punctured
 during the rescue

  As we make our way back home
  both Angie and Bob say:
You should have back-paddled!
  I hold my piece, thinking:
  Good Lord, it was my first time in
  a kayak! I was barely getting the hang
  of paddling forward!
  I do feel responsible and
  fork over my $50 emergency fund
   to Bob to make amends
  Angie says: I hope this doesn’t ruin
  kayaking for you in the future.
  I assure her that it will not
 all the while thinking fondly of  my bicycle…

-summer 2011