Poems on Elizabeth Bishop Seeking Friendly Advice

A Ford, a Dodge or even Chevy
Ding Ding the hose announcing
or maybe just some of the gang
with weight upon it, bouncing

In summer eves at half past dinner
bring our bikes and choose up sides
the DX station with lights much dimmer
get ready for the 'Ditch-em' rides

Choc-Ola was the favored choice
at fifteen cents a bottle
passed around and shared by all
allowed but just a swallow

Becky, Cheryl (aka 'Bone Shaker')
from a story read in school
King, McKeever, Sailor and Baker
four boys we...

She stood there,
slightly ominous with a red hood that covered most of her face,
with a long red coat that reached all the way down to her boots.
“What about her?” I asked him curiously “she looks really cool”,
“Her name is Mother Hood” he responded “but she’s a villain”.
“How can she be a villain is she’s a mother?” I asked surprised,
“Technically she’s not a mother” he said as we glanced at her stance,
menacing like something out of a comic book or a graphic novel.

Then I wondered,
why on earth he would conjure up such a villainous...

How in my heart I can picture you and me,
sitting upon the mantle smilingly
gazing out upon the world as it appears,  
an endless sea  
  
Burning our eyes like fire,  
salty and drawing our breath.  
For what would we wish,    
for Heaven in our midst,  
for losing ourself in this dream.  
   
For what we can hope for in this place,  
for that which we can only esteem.  
Setting suns and rising tides    
are cherished moments in our time,  
together are pondered frame by frame,  
but what can...

( a Quatern )  
A tribute to Elizabeth Bishop
(1911-1979)
and her poem “One Art”  

 
I tell myself it doesn’t matter much,
When at the end of day my tally’s off.
A post-it note reminding me some such,
To go and buy the syrup for my cough.

So what if I forgot and lost the note,
I tell myself it doesn’t matter much.
I’ll make some tea & honey, let it float,
I keep it in my pantry or the hutch.

So while I’m thinking which I’ll fix a lunch,
Make finger sandwiches to have with tea.
I tell myself...

Manmade moons and starlight satellites
Will soon brighten our night
For convenience and aesthetic delight
Bathing our precious planet
With artificial incandescent light

Yet, because of this marvel
There will be no survival
For creatures nocturnal
Not the bat, or the owl
Nor the banded armadillo

These poor children of the night
Forced into synthetic daylight
Will suffer and perish
In confusion and fright


For humans have proven
Throughout our history
That we have no empathy ...