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Fred Babbin

Neapolitan
is chocolate, vanilla,
strawberry ice cream

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God as Metaphor

God is the metaphor
for a random universe.
And the scientific savants
are busy untangling bits
of order from the chaos.
This is their attempt at
becoming Gnostic

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I’m O.K. Jack

Death be nimble,
Death be quick,
Death blow out
My mortal wick.

Death and the Woman
(After Schubert)

Death was not nimble,
Death was not quick,
But death blew out
Her mortal wick
With cancer.

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I'll Be Home, Mother

“Mother, mother,
Mother”, I cried
There was no answer
My mother had died

Then “Father, father,
where are you? ”
Again no answer,
For he died too,

Great Reaper, Great Reaper,
When will you come?
There is no answer.
When there is
I’ll be home

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The Chase (Thank you, Carol Rhodes)

Depression chases after
As I run ahead
Away from the blues

As fast as my running shoes
Will take me
Around the corner
Down the road I fly

With the wind behind
And no hills to climb
Depression chases after
Depression chases after
And catches me

CAROL HUGHES

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Shopping Without Edgar Allan

We will always shopping go
Without Edgar Allan Poe.
We go shopping, hopping, hopping,
From this store to that.
Edgar Allan was a Poe
Who never ever had to go
Shopping.

O.K., and so perhaps I lied,
And so perhaps his lovely bride,
Annabelle Lee and he
Went shopping, like
The rest of us.

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P' is for Therapy

I don't cry into the darkness
I write poetry instead.
I write what comes into my head—
Sometimes it's light, like helium
sometimes it feels like lead.
But whatever 'tis,
metaphor can serve me well
to show my feelings
whether I'm in Heaven,
or when I feel like Hell,
Which is quite often.

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Eat Eliots Heart

The crows are flying ‘round me
said the raven nevermore
and with the oranges of heaven
we knights of old play battledore
and take away whats left
for all the years of yore and peril.

And the wheels go round
and round in the morning,
so have a nice day,
Have A Nice Day,
HAVE A NICE DAY!

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An Old Man's Vision

The light, the light, the light!
The energetic photons
so necessary for our sight
and everything we do.
The stars of night, the sun so bright
the gossamer moon's reflected light
they will be there
as long as we can be aware
as long as sight maintains itself.
Of course no power, pelf or might
can guarantee our right to sight.

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R

And I must sit on the sidelines and watch
No longer able to do what I once could.
But he is my teacher,
a teacher like myself
a touching poet
who writes in pastels
who whispers his thought
and underestimates no one
where indirection
looks like no direction
the riches hidden.
I can read and think and wish
That I can do as much before I die.

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