‘As well for the coowe as for the bull’ - John Heywood

Bull out to pasture, collecting fill
Calves frolic lightly, suckling at will
Cow stands at ready, awaiting desire
Long hours repass motherhood thus transpires
He surveys his claim, proudly content
But little further exertions are expend’
She looks to the horizon forlornly
When calves grow, she may free
He is praised for little more
Than donating his gene, herd ensure-d
But she works endlessly without cease
No respite, less praised, no release

Toppled Over [ A "Reverse" Poem ]

I look at him
Landed below me
Cold concrete buckled beneath
He is injured
Body mangled by impact
Face distorted from recognition
Not the man I knew any longer;
Or maybe
I knew all along
Pretended he was different
And the dying being
I see is not him,
but childhood faith

Copyright 2014, RAJS

April Fool

Yesterday, the halo about your head shown
gilded and golden
sun’s rays gleamed, reflected
Today, the orb is gone
only dust remains
floating above your tarnished frame
Jokes on me, I guess
Fool no more, I’m prematurely aged
wizened to realities of your inadequacies
your embrace, no longer heaven’s gate

Pusherman: the affair

The pusher man comes offering sweets
Dreams of pleasure? He makes guarantee.
Try this, he coos between kisses.
And gives a sample of himself.
Like poison, it spreads within her.
Traveling through veins with malicious intent.
Pusher man’s not a faithful one -gives freely much more than expected.
And she, his latest unknown casualty,
unable to ward off deadly deceit.

Inspired by the Six Word Fridays meme prompt “push”

Not here, there

Mama goofed big time. I watched as the silver Caddie sped away from the curb. It was barely 4:30 in the morning and the sun had yet to break out above the horizon. I juggled my purse, our combined suitcase, and my loaded turquoise camera bag – careful not to tip the latter, thus spilling the contents dangerously to the concrete floor. (How foolish to buy this “fashionable” case with the open flap that had no consideration for secure closure!) Ri sat wriggling in her stroller, fighting against the seat belt that confined her to it.

The check-in was nearly empty, with the only two attendants assisting in bag checks. A row of waiting kiosks beckoned, their screens showing “push start to begin.” I navigated the winding path leading to the vacant machines and tapped the blinking button. With so few people in the building, there was plenty of time, still, to get through security and board my 5:45 am flight. It asked for my name, which I gave it. It returned with something like “ticket not found. Choose another entry option?” Huffing, I fumbled for my ticket confirmation paperwork and entered in the number recorded there. This time the machine replied, “Error. See attendant.”

The two attendants were still busy, processing seemingly endless papers as they scanned bar codes and printed off receipts and other documents. I happened to notice another woman lingering near the ropes dividing priority check-in from the general lines. “Excuse me,” I began, not clear whether she was a waiting passenger or an airline agent. She turned toward me, aggravation obvious in her twisted, tight lipped grimace. I saw, then, her name tag and airline affiliation. “Umm… the machine says I should see attendant. I’m supposed to have a 5:45 flight to Houston.”

She reached out and snatched my paperwork, scanned the flight information and shoved it back at me. “You’re supposed to be at DCA. That’s Reagan National. There’s your problem,” she said, as she turned on her heels and walked quickly away.

Six Word Fridays: pine

Buried within the tall green grass
A single brown cone lay resting
Scattered seeds taken by whispered breezes
Birds carry the future further still

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