'can you imagine laying an egg?' or 'never tire of her'

'can you imagine laying an egg?' or 'never tire of her' timothy r gates, 12/26/2010

my heart, a cave
my mind, a mine
my body, a gift.
five golden rings
sing of partridges in pear trees
(can you imagine laying an egg?
or, geese in your living room doing so?)
my voice, a song
my voice, a dirge
my voice, a shift.
two turtle doves
leave presents too
annoy as soon as they endear
(maids milking?
wonderful metaphors available.)
you, the gods applaud
you, the goddesses implore
you, the moon baptized by the sun.
(can you imagine ten lords, eleven pipers, twelve drummers?
only way the nine ladies and eight maids could be kept up with.)
'my true love,'
all that truly matters.
never tire of her
voice, or her silence,
her.

'sugar hitting'

'sugar hitting' timothy r gates, 12/23/2010

sugar hitting
readied cookie doe,
sounds of crispy, yet not too,
snaps broken in two.
catch it before it breaks into my
fresh coffee
(in my heart's eye,
i hear my grown, and not grown
children playing,
shaking packages,
guessing what's inside.
the giggles, i love the most)
- back to work,
ready the house,
one more package to wrap
one more to pick up
one more to write a sentimental note.
my Santa knows no
time and space
conflicts
has no consternation
needs no applause -
likes candles, though.
me too.

'have you ever laughed at G-d?'

'have you ever laughed at G-d?' timothy r gates, 12/20/2010

have you ever laughed at G-d?
Sarah and Abraham did,
named their son Issac, yes,
'he will laugh.'
have you ever laughed at G-d?
doing so when not believing?
doing so with fists in the air?
doing so without regret?
Have you ever laughed at nothing?
rains and winds do
Buddha does
children do.
Gods and Goddesses,
myths and legends look down.
Elohim, Adonai and YHWH –
walks among us,
sings our hymns,
teaching us our own.
have you ever buried your
brother, sister, mother, father, grandfather, grandmother –
found yourself laughing, bawling, sobbing, laughing,
quiet?
What if there's no G-d?
Does – laugh?

'red noses'

'red noses' timothy r gates, 12/16/2010

brushed up against
held close, nose against the
glass
looking mirror
smeared lipstick
dare not wash it out of my clothes
dare to try to forget the kiss
dare not sing aloud her chant
holy day, hol-i-day
special time of any year
no need for mistletoe
no need for eggnog
no need for more than an icon
open this door
first firmly grab the frame
then pull my nose from the
window
what red noses are made from.

'no need for Freudian effusions'

'no need for Freudian effusions' timothy r gates, 12/11/2010

every day's an anniversary
every day's a birthday
every day's an evening's hymn

i sing your dirge
i sing your happy day
i sing your blessed repose

you entertain
you celebrate
you commiserate

no need for hyperbole
no need for minimizing
no need for Freudian effusions

now i remember
now i recall
now i'm reminded why i remind myself of the day.

'40 years, and still dead' or 'Lennon still speaks'

'40 years, and still dead' or 'Lennon still speaks'

timothy r gates, 12/05/2010
John Lennon murdered 12/08/1980 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8Pr5o8AAc0



sat on the wall

watching the world go by

working class hero, irony

didn't live like the most of us -

a person of extreme privilege

still, we sing along

liking that someone sang ours for us

learned to be a husband

a dad

a friend

screwed up, like us,

learned to be a man

a person

the revolution that counts is one place:

with me.

the bullets fly

the words superfluous

the world where love is all you need

the willingness to give peace a chance -

not unlike the pathological assassin.

i pray that i'm a jealous guy

for these virtues.

- another day.

'the ride' via painting,Ecstasy, by Władysław Podkowiński, 1894

'the ride trg, 12/02/2010 via painting, Ecstasy, by Władysław Podkowiński, 1894

he thought it'd be easy
whisper a hiss,
'come, be not afraid, be free and see.'
he was blinded by his
one more notch acquisitions,
didn't take off his lenses -
she has no need of the Garden's clothing
no need for another's skin
no attachment to shame,
heaven's her domain.
grabbing tightly for the wind,
she takes him for an ascent,
her grace, his folly
unless he pauses and breathes, with,
'what the hell, i'll go too.'