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Darrell R Parker

of

Citrus Heights, CA, US

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The Aging Fleet of Half Moon Bay

by

Darrell R Parker

Tis foggy morn deemed so forlorn,
From distance sounds a augur horn
Upon the water gray and green
Sit tattered vessels o’ myth n’ dream

Aqua chariots of blue and white
Sway to and fro in dimming light
Haggard be, not one shown bright
Seek caring reprieve from this their plight

Here La Boheme sings pleadingly
While Mischief near by fleeting be
Camelot upon the sea, does seize
Avalon’s mist which drifts in breeze

Morning Star shines not these days
As Molly’s Dog still sleeping lays
Sea chariots come nigh with aloft fanfare
Of sooty birds dancing for meager share

A sailor’s pipe sparks in the night
Exposing embers in swirling flight
A wizened soul, grizzled and gray
Bathes patiently his ship of day

Mezza Luna beacons him near
Delivering tankards of golden cheer
Barbara blast a rocky tune
While blackened night gives way to moon

As misty tendrils of salt air
Wrap round the masts with seeming yare
The parting flocks wish better day
To the aging fleet of Half Moon Bay

My Putty Tat

by

Darrell R Parker

Know beyond a shadow of any doubt, that I can really say
That I could do totally without, this very mournful day
I awoke to rooster’s crow, before the sun arose
To find my pretty putty tat, laid out upon the rode

Though nature made him fully grown, had kitten’s attitude he
Playful, whimsy, bouncy and fun, no better a mouser could be
Hunting by night, sleeping by day, be it indoors or out
I swear by these eyes I did see with three or four he’d bout

And fierce as any hunter could be, a softer side had he
Upon the caring breast he’d sleep, purring gleefully
My home he made his very own, he even pissed in my bed
On several occasions we would scrap, I nailed him in the head

When times life got to hard to take; the world looked lonesome and bleak
I’d recall his brother and he, in paper bag Hide n’ Seek
In blade of grass he’d fined repast, he trimmed my lawn one time
And as though on cue, he, upon my porch, delivered balls of hairy slime

He scampered quick on spinning chair, clasp with claws, he’d go round
A spinning rug his tea cup ride, his bouts with brother renowned
No cat in life have I ever known to give more love and joy
I’ll reminisce my Tigger as much as if he were my only boy