Blog Archives - High Desert Art

High Desert Art

Watched

7/31/2014

Watched

Shopping
Is
Tough work.
As soon as
I get in
The mall,
A salesclerk
Pins me
To the wall.
‘Can I help?’
They shout,
While I just
Try to
Get back out.
‘Shopping’,
Means taking
A look.
But no,
They treat me
Like a crook,
Fix me
With a
Beady eye,
Until I lose
The wish
To buy.
I want
To cry,
‘Give me
A break!
I’m here to
Purchase,
Not
To take!’
If I
Am treated
Thus,
I get back
In my
Little bus
And groan,
Wearing what
I already own.

July 29th, 2014

7/29/2014

Dinner Party

Honored guest,
Champagne on ice.
Casual dress,
Roasted
Chicken breast.
Saffron rice,
New peas
(So cute).
Music,
John Dowland,
16th century
Lute.
Sting
Sings.
Dessert,
A sweet
Confection
Of summertime
Perfection.
The feast ends
And as night
Descends,
We gather
On the patio
To see
Hummingbirds
In the
Mimosa tree.
The
Russian speaker
To my right,
Declares
This is a
Magic sight.
Rain
Begins,
The party ends,
Guests
Are leaving.
All agree
It was
A lovely

Evening.

Spanish Market Saturday

7/27/2014

Spanish Market Saturday

Sixty miles away
Is beautiful Santa Fe.
We go to
Spend the day
Under the sway
Of ancient thrall
That clings
To Buildings
And adobe walls
And lingers
In crowded
Shops and stalls.
We make our
Journey past
Tourists trying
To outlast
Expense and heat
To choose
A trendy place
To eat.
Santa Fe rises
Seven thousand
Feet
And wears
Disguises
Of Indians, artists
And
Handsome cowboys,
Tall and sweet.
We behold
Surprises
That unfold,
Tempt and hold.
We wander from
Store to store
Until tired
And footsore,
We take our
Shopping bags of
Treasures,
Weary of Santa Fean
Pleasures.
Consider we have
Done our best,
And go home
To rest.

Images

7/25/2014

Images

The
Dimpled
Moon,
Pocked with
Mystery,
Rises
Slowly,
Bobbles
Over the
Jagged
Mountain,
And fades
Beneath
Lenticular
Clouds.
Rain is
Forecast
And the
Desert
Waits.
I watch,
Thinking of
Painting
The blue
Curve
Of the
Morning
Glories,
The petal
Edges
And the
Dozen
Greens of
Foliage,
Furled now
In the
Gloom.
Stars
Wheel
Past,
But no
Rain comes.

Long past
Love,
All that’s
Left to do
Is make
A little
Art,
Until
The
Moon
Peeps
Out Again,
With
It’s
Mocking,
Patient
Smile.

Library

7/23/2014

Library

Here is
The book
Of Time.
Page one,
You
Chubby child.
Page three
Teen
Running wild.
Page five
Or
Somewhere
There,
A lovely
Youth,
So free, so fair.
Oh, my!
The wind
Blows
Pages by.
In a brief
Space,
Something
Happens
To your
Face.
Before you
Can reach out,
Take hold,
You realize
You’re old.
You hasten
To the known
Bookshelf,
And try
To find
Your
Other self.
Too late!
It’s gone.
Your book
Has been
Withdrawn.

Bulk Mishap

7/21/2014

Bulk Mishap

The lady
Living
Across the
Street
Consumes
Entirely
Too much
To eat.
A sorry
Victim
Of reckless
Cooking,
This morning
She toppled,
While I
Was looking.
Before she
Could
Effect a
Halt,
She rolled
Six yards
Down the
Asphalt.
911 arrived,
Two sturdy
Guys,
Who
Failed to get
The gal
To rise.
They had
The gurney
Standing by,
But couldn't
Lift
Such weight
That high.
At last,
They dragged
Her
Onto
A sheet,
And got her
Up
Out of the
Street.
Applause was
Sounded by
Grateful
Neighbors,
Appreciative of
Their massive
Labors.
They hauled
The piteous
Giant away,
The destination
I can’t say,
And all this
Happened,
Just today.
The moral?
Better
Stand up
Straight,
And watch out
What goes
On your
Plate.

The Ballet

7/19/2014

The Ballet

We are
Seized
With glory
At the pageantry
And poignant
Story.
The chorus rises
And whirls,
A blur of tulle,
Stiff silk shoes
Padded with
Lamb’s wool,
So slender feet
Don’t bruise.
Such beauty,
Athletic grace
And skill!
I move like
Lead and
Always will.
The lover leaps
And points
His toes,
His lady
Gowned
In petals
Of a rose.
He gaily
Pirouettes,
She spins,
And all
Too soon,
The curtain
Descends.
We are
Struck with
Melancholy
When the
Magic ends.

Satellite

7/17/2014

Satellite

The moon
Rides very close
Tonight,
And bathes my lawn
In mellow light.
Pocked with stars,
The sky
Bears planetary
Scars.
The blackened trees,
Dense and dark,
Reach upward
With their
Arms of bark.
‘Take us along,’
Perhaps they say,
The moon is mute
And glides away.
The earth admires
Its perfection,
But spins in
An oblique
Direction.

Point to Ponder

7/15/2014

Point to Ponder

Let us consider, fellow frogs,
The virtues of the rash of blogs.
Everybody and their mother
Has words of wisdom for one another.
I have no advice to give,
But get yourself out there and live.
None knows but you, my friends,
When it begins or how it ends.
If someone else must give the boot,
The stuff is junk not worth a hoot.
If you've a story, tune, or play,
Use your own words to have your say.
(By gosh, just like the bog of jerks,
I have my view of how art works.)

The Lover

7/13/2014

The Lover

Viewed in
The faded
Light,
Green hue
Invaded
China blue.
He was young,
Tall and slight,
And poetry
Shaped all
We knew.
I loved him
In one English
Season,
Damp and cool,
Beyond all hope
Or measured
Reason,
Though
He was cruel.
From Devon’s
Hills and valleys
Green and fair,
We crossed
The Channel
And I lost
Him there.
In the Cathedral
At Rouen,
We parted,
I went alone
To Paris,
Heavy hearted.
Years pass
Still I recall,
He was slim,
Blue-eyed and tall.
We were young,
And poetry
Was all.