Nirvana in Labor


NIRVANA IN LABOR

SOMETHING TELLS
ME
NOT TO LET
YOU GO
THE TIME
IS NOT YET
UPON US:
WE NEED TO
CREATE MORE
GENIUS BEFORE
I TRADE YOU
IN FOR A NEW
MODEL
I REALLY DON’T
WANT,
WHY DO WE
ALWAYS HAVE
TO HAVE
NEW
WHEN THE
OLD
SOFT
HAPPY
EASY WAY
IS AVAILABLE,
IT COMFORTS
MY SOUL
TO KNOW
THAT EVERYTHING
I NEED
LIES WITHIN
YOUR REACH
THE MESSAGE
IS SLIPPING
THROUGH THE
CRACKS:
TO SAY THAT
RENEWING
THINGS WILL
NOT FIX
MY INDECISION
MY TEMPER
OR MY PASSIONATE
LOVE
FOR CREATING
A MOMENT
TO SHARE
WITH THE
EYES OF THE
WORLD,

YOU’VE BEEN
THERE
WHEN I HAD
THAT YEN
IN THE CHILLY
WINTER OF
FORBODDEN
CITIES
AND THE SUMMER
OF MY FANTASY
WHERE I SAW
IT FROM THE
OUTSIDE,
GAZING FROM
A MOTEL
WINDOW
I KNEW THAT
MY CITY OF
DREAMS
LAY FAR
NORTH
OF THE SANDS
AND BANDS
OF SUNSET LOVERS,
IT ALL DISAPPEARED
WHEN I WAS
SO SURE
I WAS IN HEAVEN
BY ACCIDENT,
AND NOW I
WILL REPENT
AND STAY
WITH YOU
MY HEART
MY MIND
LEAVING THE
DAY BEHIND
WHERE I
LISTENED TO
ANOTHER VOICE,
I HAVE A
CHOICE
AND I CHOOSE
YOU…
I DO.

©J.W. WINSLOW 10/1/17

The Wakeup Call


THE WAKEUP CALL

THE GRINDING
SOUND OF WHIRLING
MACHINES
IS ABOVE ME
TODAY,
THE ROOF IN
REPAIR
AND CHANGE
IN THE AIR,
THEY FINALLY
CALLED AND
FIXED UP
THE BACKUP
SO MY BOOK
WON’T BE LOST
(IMAGINE THE COST),
AND TODAY MY
POOR ARM
THAT WAS
SWOLLEN AND
RED
AND SET OFF
ALARMS
HAS RETURNED
TO A NORMAL
STATE
BUT I HAVE TO
WAIT
FOR SEVEN MORE
DAYS,
THE STITCHES
PLAY HAVOC
AND PULL WHEN
I STRETCH, SO
I CAN’T DO
MY YOGA,
I’M SUCH A
SAD WRETCH,
WHILE THE
CROWDS SWARM
AND PLAY
KEEPING CAR WEEK
AT BAY,
WE CANNOT MOVE
MUCH
(ALL THE TOURISTS
AND SUCH)
SO PERHAPS
I MUST NOW TURN
TO A PERTINENT
BURN: A NEW SET
OF COMPUTERS
BOTH LAPTOP
AND DESK,
WONDERING IF
THE UNIVERSE
WILL GIVE ME
A REST,

I TURN TO MY
WRITING
COMPOSING
AND FIGHTING
TO STAY IN THE FOCUS
NO HOCUS POCUS,
BUT WHEN I TURNED
ON THE NEW TV SHOW
THE SERVER WAS OUT
YOU JUST NEVER KNOW
AT THE END OF THE DAY
WHAT STRANGE
WILY CIRCUMSTANCE
WILL BE
COMING YOUR WAY,
SO GET READY
ON MONDAY
FOR THE TOTAL
ECLIPSE,
A SIGHT FOR THE EYES
AS WELL AS
THE LIPS,
I WILL STAY
IN THE FLUID
AND ROLL
WITH THE PUNCH
HOPING THE
OUTCOME
IS NOT OUT
TO LUNCH,
AND I HAVE
A FEELING
THAT WHILE
YOU ARE READING
AND NODDING
YOUR HEAD,
THE CRAZINESS
SMASHBOX
HAS ENTERED
INSTEAD,
LIKE IT OR NOT
THIS IS ALL
THAT WE’VE
GOT,
I ESCAPE TO
THE GARDEN
FOR A SWEET
TINY ROSE,
AND TAKE
A DEEP BREATH
TO JUST DECOMPOSE,
AND SEND YOU
THE SAME,
IT’S THE NAME
OF THE GAME!

©J.W. WINSLOW 8/1/17

Claude’s Umbrella


CLAUDE’S UMBRELLA

WE BROUGHT HOME
A QUEEN
A DREAMY MACHINE
MEANT TO POWER
AND ROAR
AND WASH IT
ALL CLEAN,
THE SLATE AND
THE ROCKS
AND ALL THE CEMENT
HAD ONCE BEEN
QUITE LOVELY
BUT NOW
IN DESCENT,
HE HOOKED
UP THE HOSE
AND STRUCK
QUITE A POSE
BLASTING
AWAY
IN THE HEIGHT
OF THE DAY,
IT DIDN’T TAKE
LONG TO SEE
THE RESULTS
WHERE THE
DIRT AND THE
GRIT HAD LAID
IT FLEW OFF THE
DECK AT THE
SPEED
OF BREAKNECK
FLYING INTO THE
GLADE,
SO I DONNED MY
WORK GLOVES
AND FOLLOWED ALONG
SLAVING IN
CONCERT
PULLING THE WEEDS
YANKING THE
OLD BULBS
THAT WENT OUT
TO SEED,
GATHERING
LIMBS FROM THE
VARIOUS TREES
STASHING IT
ALL AWAY,
WE BANTERED
AND LAUGHED
AND CHOREOGRAPHED
A PATH
THAT SURROUNDED
THE HOUSE,
MEASURING TIME
AND OPEN SPACE
IT WAS KIND OF
A FUN AND
DANGEROUS RACE

BUT WHEN WE
WERE DONE
AND THE LOWERING
SUN
WAS CASTING
A SPELL ON THE
PORCH,
I PICTURED A
PARTY
WITH THE FIRE
OF A TORCH,
WITH MUSIC AND
LAUGHTER
AND DRINKS
IN THE SHADE,
SO I WENT TO
RETRIEVE
THE OLD BATTERED
UMBRELLA
A RATHER GREEN
GUY AND
GAMELY OLD FELLA,
WHO HAD LIVED
OUT THE WINTER
UNDER THE TREES
WAITING FOR SUMMER
TO PROMISE A BREEZE,
AND SURELY ENOUGH
HE SPREAD HIS
STIFF WINGS
AND STOOD THERE
ABOVE ME
WITH TATTERED
BENT RINGS,
WAITING AT LAST
FOR CHANCE TO
SHINE
AND SHADOW
THE PEOPLE
WHO SIPPED THEIR
RARE WINE,
BUT THE FINAL SWEET
TOUCH I WAS
ANTICIPATING
A ROUND CLOTH
OF CLAUDE’S GARDEN
WAS FOLDED AND WAITING
SO I CLIMBED UP
THE LADDER
AND LAY IT ON TOP,
HOPING IT WOULDN’T
FALL OFF AND FLOP,
AND TO MY SURPRISE
THE COLORS WERE
PERFECT
FLOWERS AND VINES
MEANT TO PROTECT
AND SWEETLY ENTWINE,
THE ICING ON TOP
OF A GLORIOUS
CAKE,
A LOVELY FRENCH
CENTERPIECE,
MAKE NO MISTAKE!

©J.W. WINSLOW 8/1/17