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Richard S. Green

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McMinnville, OR, US

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i made a cup

by

Richard S. Green

sometimes when you get a cup
you wonder what from it's been supped,
so you go down to the factory to see what's up
and EVERYONE's drinking from a cup.
when i made this cup, i put it up so that
nothing from this cup's been supped.


Apologies to Edgar After Thanksgiving

by

Richard S. Green

Once upon a midday dreary, shoulders aching, eyes all bleary,
I looked out upon the darkling gray, the wind, the rain, another day.
Suddenly as in a spell my eyes perceived as if from hell
that which looked just like...another turkey sandwich.
I froze in action..seeking traction..trying to run the other way,
I shrieked..I freaked..at the sight of turkey beckoning me its way.

Now I sit, over sated, feeling full, addlepated
as the tryptophan kicks in, plump like turkey, I once was thin.


Terns for the Verse

by

Richard S. Green

Fun to watch them fly and frolic
stunts and airs and high speed swoops,
but oh it renders me melancholic
to see my boat all covered in poops.

I hung up foils and owls and snakes
stood on the deck and waved my arms.
I thought I'd done all that it takes
everything but install alarms.

And yet each day I sadly view
Tern poops, tern poops, anew,
Tern poops, tern poops...residue.


On the Driveway in Winter

by

Richard S. Green

I lay on the ground ’neath the Boston Whaler, it was on sawhorses and not on the trailer. And what do you think that I held in my hand, why ‘twas my Boston Whaler trailer sailor bailer which I planned to refit and re-bed and re-caulk, you see, because it’s so very important to me. It keeps out the water and empties it too, a really quite clever thing for it to do. I held it in place, looked over it twice and thought to myself, it fits very nice. Then suddenly from the north a great wind blew, the dust started flying and I dropped a screw. The weather turned chill as north weather will do and I did what I did and so would you. I packed up the bailer, I picked up the screw, I covered the Whaler as my cheeks turned blue. I zipped up my jacket and turned up my collar and ran for the house as I started to holler, "I can’t take the chill, this cold wind could kill, I need something finer" and I went to the recliner. Now I’ve eaten my toast and sipped my hot tea, I lean back in the chair and it occurs to me, it’s still early in winter and I’m not a failer just because I’ve not fitted my Boston Whaler trailer sailor bailer.


A Poem for Monday

by

Richard S. Green

Poetry isn't my forte'
Some days it's not even a threete'
On a very bad day it's a twote'
And on Monday it's clearly a onete'


Ode to shoal draft in December

by

Richard S. Green

I dipped my toe into the water, I felt it hit the ground,
I slowly came to realize 'twas this depth all around.
But I did not fear, I did not weep, nor beat upon my breast,
Because I knew as Shallow Water Sailors do, we could sail that best.
We'd lift our boards and sing our songs, think not we of the sand,
As we skimmed across the morning dew that lay upon the land.
All hail to you and hie we on, thin water sailors all
This paean wrote is naught but note at end of cold bleak fall.

Confluence of a hat, a Lincoln, and a Birthday

by

Richard S. Green

Sittin’ in the Parking Lot

I saw a little old lady in a big old Lincoln,
And seein’ her drivin’ got me to thinkin’.
You’d turned fifty and my feelin’ was sinkin’,
You and her in my thoughts in my mind was linkin‘.

And I looked at that lady in her big old Lincoln,
Drivin’ in the sun with her old eyes blinkin’
So this gift’s given with one eye winkin’
Thinkin’ of you blinkin’ in a big old Lincoln.