A Lonely, Last Bud to Fall
In a spell that seems so long already,
I tend one after another
a lifetime of gardening.
The precious buds fall
one at a time.
They burn and decay away.
They are in my memory
And missed each for a passion its own.
I tend the garden now aging and failing,
But still I till on, one season at a time.
I am not sure why I garden still.
Or why the lovely buds must Wither and fall.
I am resigned,
But I do confess I fear
A lonely, last bud to
2011 by E.D. Ridgell
I'm not buying that smile, again.
too big to fail.
I don't need you're next Cold War.
I've got to save an Island;
Is only a threat to McCarthyism.
Have you no shame!
Monica is multi-orgiastic.
Have you no shame?
Put your blond bombshell
Back to bed! The fat lady's not through singing!
© 2012 by E.D. Ridgell
|RUDY, JE T'AIME MON AMOUR !
Lord, Lay Me Down,
I drank and drank and drank for months I think
Trying to just find that place, that place for
place where I could be invisible-
Where I could just lay flat and still, out of their way.
I lay me down in
a corn field and let out a queer guffaw;
I cut dead any shame with another laugh and came to rest.
I reckoned back, when last a pretty boy, I lay on the lawn of Clifton Park
And looked and looked and looked
for that four leaf clover, that myth.
Lord, lay me down, gently now, on that field
of catalpa pods and ash.
Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy but I’m worn down. I’m all used up, ya’ hear?
Let Virginia showers mingle me with my true
the elements do what they will do for a final metaphor of it.
And what of our souls,
Lord? Are they myths, too?
Is there a special place for your chosen ones, your mistakes?
Has this been some kind of carnival show? Were we their freaks?
Lord, I would have it so again, for the freak
stares out with no expectations.
© 2009 by E.D. Ridgell