The Cannon

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

To say why it didn’t go to plan

We’ll have to start where it began

And how we left it to Phil and Stan

The idea was awesome it was great

Those older girls would be irate

But we should have entrusted Bob or Nate

The laundryman was easily bribed

His weakness was that he imbibed

His task was easily circumscribed

The Rutledge twins supplied the gun

A massive piece that weighed a ton

They made it louder just for fun

We filled it with the stolen laundry

But then arose a major quandry

Our solution would come back to haunt me

You see women’s wear does not fly well

And we could not put it in a shell

But we reasoned clumps of mud the undies would propel

We should have trusted it to Ron and John

Or maybe even Don or Juan

But Phil and Stan if fell upon

Not the brightest in the bunch

Their brains were always out to lunch

But we were rushed and in a crunch

The job assigned we ran away

To find a place were we could stay

To watch the awe-inspiring display

A boom rang out

We heard a shout

And from their cabin the girls ran out

The first to yell was loud mouth Kate

The girl who filled us all with hate

As she favored no one with a date

The laundry rained down but something strange

Something we did not arrange

A horrifying new exchange

Just when it seemed to go so well

The girls running, yelling all pell mell

Kate, dreaded Kate, yelled out “What’s that smell???!!!”

And now we watched the travesty unfold

The girls screaming became uncontrolled

Our penance, we knew, would be too awful to behold

So if you’re going to break the rules

Don’t entrust your plan to fools

Who don’t have brains to use as tools

For even a little cub scout troupe

Or possibly a toddlers group

Would not confuse mud with poop

Summer Girls

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

You always fall for summer girls

With their white shorts and summer tans

Hair straight and long or cascading curls

Your eyes would meet, you’d make your plans

There’s something different in her way

Sharp tongued and full of spice

Let’s hang around she’d always say

She needn’t say it twice

Some other guy would puff his chest

Big mouths did not impress

She always seems to like you best

Just why you couldn’t guess

You had your jokes and funny looks

Which no one else could see

You’d steal away in secret nooks

And hide beneath a tree

She’d twirl her hair she’d hint around

Or maybe she’d just say

As you lay together on the ground

“Don’t let this slip away”

But summer girls always say good bye

And then they disappear

It never really ends, that’s why

You still love them through the years

Lost In Time

Image by liggraphy from Pixabay

The Blue RIdge, hazy in the distance

Walls off the valley, bulwark against the outside

Cows stand like ancient sentinels

Waiting for history to happen again

Old schools float like islands in an ancient sea

Grounds still littered with grape and canister

They set their own rythyms

Cadences of a bygone era, steadfast

Bugles sing their songs day and night

Up and down the valley floor

Constant as the sun and moon

They are singing for ghosts

Reveille, first call, mess and taps

Melancholy, time upon time upon time

They call the ghosts of old soldiers

They grow fewer and softer

Sunday parades mollify the ghosts

Sabers flash, shakos flutter in the breeze

Drums roll, parents beam

Front Royal to Blacksburg, on all the islands

Pretty girls from fancy schools

Girls you can’t afford

Watch like girls always watch

Then dance with boys in blue and grey and green

The girls are perfect debs

The boys all spit and polish

Prideful and haughty

Heirs of a vanishing realm

The ghosts take us by the shoulders

“Oh Stop and listen to our tale.”

“There was good here. There was grace here.”

But they shot the albatross

The signs remained even then

The signs put the lie to it all

Unrepentant, put it all to the sword

“We reserve the right…”

And so the people were and they weren’t

And they did and they didn’t

And they would and they wouldn’t

Beautiful, she is marked with a scarlet letter

The girls walking on tartan carpets

Eating under crystal chandeliers

The boys polishing their brass

Drilling to ancient rhythms

The misty hills

The rolling rivers

Intoxicate you like a potion

You fall in love despite yourself

The girls grow old, they are your sisters

The cadets grow old, they are your brothers

The valley is eternal, bruised and beautiful

Easier to love with both eyes open

© Glenn R Keller 2021, All Rights Reserved

Ode To A Faithful Friend

Image by Q K from Pixabay

You crouch there in your little room

With not else much to do

But you’re not sad or filled with gloom

Cause they’ll always come to you

It could be at the break of light

Before they start their day

Or sometimes even late at night

They might come for a stay

They’ll come to you on bended knee

Or set a spell and read a book

Gasping while they worship thee

Or relaxing in your cozy nook

But come what may you never mind

Cause light or dark or day or night

You don’t mind cradling their behind

For any bottom is a welcome sight

I could sit here and I could wax poetic

Spinning praises like a bathroom rapper

Tapping your vibe and dropping words aesthetic

I guess you’d have to call me MC Crapper

Melvin

Image by Doris Metternich from Pixabay

Drip, swish, plink

Drip off the faucet

The liquid beads slide down her leg

Plink into the water

He raises his head

Swish goes his tail

The drops catch the candlelight

Magnifying the fairy hairs on her leg

Her skin is electric, like velvet

Drip, swish, plink

She raises the glass to her lips

The wine is translucent

He can see her lips through the glass

A permanent pout

Drip, swish, plink

A drop falls from her mouth

Drip

Slides down the curve of her breast

And into the water

Plink

She reaches over and scratches his head

Her blonde hair shedding water on the floor

“You’re a good boy Melvin, I love you”

Swish

© Glenn R Keller 2021, All Rights Reserved

Who Are You?

Image by Alexandr Ivanov from Pixabay

I don’t know who you are

But I met you in the bar

Then you jumped into my car

And you said it wasn’t far

Now I’m sitting on your bed

With a dagger in my head

Can’t remember what I said

But I’m feeling like I’m dead

Was it worth it? I don’t know

Now the room is spinning slow

And I’m wishing I could go

What is your name? Was it Flo?

I could slip out and be rude

But I can hear you making food

Can smell coffee being brewed

And I don’t wanna be that dude

Now you’re bringing me a tray

And you’re smiling in that way

And you know I’m gonna stay

C’mon dammit…was it Faye?

© Glenn R Keller 2021, All Rights Reserved

Wistful

Image by Barbara Bonanno from Pixabay

It is the home you made but can no longer enter

It is the lover that you can no longer kiss

It is the pain that you cannot undo

It is the scar that you cannot erase

It is the rapture you cannot reclaim

It is the mundane

It is the painful

It is the joyful

It is the life that you have expended

Never to recover

You are alone in your backward dreams

They are already dust

Inside Looking Out

Image by Akshay Ranganath from Pixabay

The rain

Saturates the air

Puts a glaze on the street

Traffic lights shine through the murk

Diffused, but somehow brighter

Red, Yellow, Green

The lack of clarity

The air, moist and thick

Amplifies the sound

Diesel engines snorting

Buses picking up and dropping off

Trucks trundling through their rounds

Brakes squealing

Gears grinding

The air, moist and thick

Lays heavy over the city

Lays heavy over him

Hoping where there is none

Praying for a change of heart

It presses down on him

He knows she isn’t coming back

He knows she isn’t coming back today

Just like she hadn’t come back yesterday

And won’t be coming back tomorrow