|
© David Moorhead
Limericks
recently submitted with particular rules
to an informal school for dynamic drools
Arthur Miller's persistence
shows inmost brilliance;
as only playwrights can
plan the death of a salesman.
A favorite is Oprah Winfrey
who took us on a shopping spree;
showing off this, and showing off that,
I found Madonna, and sat on her lap.
And, in his car they had sped
with one David Berkley Moorhead;
it's not at all clear how they reigned in such luck,
but all got quick glances of famed Donald Duck.
David describes James Joyce
with tipped hat and undaunted voice;
the modernist streamed by sensual shock,
but eventually cascaded into writer's block.
David Berkley Moorhead
loves immensely warmed over bread;
upon it spreads butter and luscious grape jelly,
and wants an all-nighter with Liza Monelli.
What To Say
on change into the next
I hardly know what to say; my heart keeps fluttering
from one to the next thing without uttering a word of goodbye.
The new world catches me by surprise when I give a
moment to ponder it. I can’t even imagine right now –
too much of the old is still apparent.
Too much of the new world has already entered; I intuited
its memory between others from youth. Someone even predicted Earth's
cobalt cascade when I was only fifteen – who cared.
I feel like cellophane is wrapped tightly around me;
my body wants to stretch, to sing tunes and moan and laugh as before,
but I’m waiting, strapped in a cocoon.
It’s again time to relish my heart’s rhythms,
listen to a friend, listen to Mozart, listen to nature, listen to
the lighted candle. My consciousness hardly knows what to speak…
this language is hardly mine any more.
It’s all about love, truly madly deeply shared.
Fear stands no chance, and change is only a shell left behind for
the next – it is you and I who care.
Our constant curiosity is key
to watching what's being created. ~ DM |
