First All Out Praise Poem, Second Draft

I love the praise poem form and have never used it. I wanted something to wake people up on Sunday afternoon and make them glad they were not outside on what will be a gorgeous day so I thought I'll praise them and give them an opening unlike anything they would ever imagine for a "Literary Afternoon" in Yelm. The venue is The Blue Bottle, a local landmark.

The praise poem is a sacred invoaction type of literary genre for the Yoruba people of western Africa. It is also in many other peoples traditions in Africa. The bottom line is it should make you feel. I hope to increase the satisfaction in the afternoon, the vision of the people who make the Blue Bottle happen every day and especially this day. I wish it to increase our happiness.




Song of Praise for the Blue Bottle




I see Genius at the Blue Bottle

I lift my pen, I tap the keys, I drink my tea to the genius
Genius at the Blue Bottle

Holy Michelle extends her generous spirit
Her spirit reflected in glass the color of healing for the genius
Genius at the Blue Bottle

Praise be blue, be it sky, bird or tarp; the color is Stellar’s
Around us in the bottles that held the nectar of the gods
Decanted in toasts to genius
Genius at the Blue Bottle

Glory to the baristas who call us by name and remember
What we had to do yesterday when they ask us today
How’d it go? That is genius
Genius at the Blue Bottle

Bounty to every mouth, mind and pocketbook that has opened
In these rooms – Genius!
Genius at the Blue Bottle

Abundance to the people who set the table and welcome us in – Genius!
Genius at the Blue Bottle

Blessings to ones who make a place for meetings and groups and minds – Genius!
Genius at the Blue Bottle

As we sit, dance or stand in the embers of those that have passed through here
Sit, dance, stand and kick!
Kick up the embers, add some new fuel
Fan the flames for this moment you are Genius
Genius at the Blue Bottle



Ah, free wi-fi is always genius.

Prompt: Farewell

Lorraine Appreciation Week

The first week in May is Lorraine Appreciation Week
Celebrations in all major metropolitan centers of North America and Canada
The key features will be dragon slayings starting with hatchlings Monday-Wednesday
Young adults Thursday and full on stop you in your tracks
Singe your eyelashes within 50 feet of them sleeping
Melt your sword, scale rot, halitosis infected, pus oozing adults for the weekend

Dragons courtesy of Lorraine and carefully nourished
In a knot of dread and panic fueled decisions over the last ten years
Made extra strong by double clutching on all the curves
Where gravity held her to the pavement when she
Really just wanted to fly

Dispatch the dragons, Lorraine
They’re only here because you feed them
They don’t need you on any level
Slay them during Lorraine Appreciation Week
Starve them, they never see that strategy approaching
Surprise them and yourself

Send them on their way
Then see how we’ll party in your honor

Prompt: Never __________ (fill in the blank)

Never Say It Can’t Get Any Worse (Three Questions)

Who listens at the edge of the clouds
For a gullible human to utter
The misinformed words that taunt fate?

Do these cosmic eavesdroppers
Roll back on their heels or satyr hoofs
Laughing until they snort, drool or choke while
Steadying themselves to
Rummage through their trick bags
For pestilence and flesh eating microbes?

Can’t you just be satisfied with your calamity
Without calling down the wrath of the gods
With that naive incantation
Well, at least it can’t get any worse?

Prompt: Use the 'sestina' form of poetry

Heartbeat Drum Rhythm

The exhibition
Laid out by clowns
In the shape of a flower
Held by a dancer
Driven by drummers
To join the circus

Once in the circus
It brought out exhibitionists
Who threw their names into a drum
Then wrestled for the clown
Make up to dress for the dance
And accept the dates flower

Give me a flower
To go to the circus
Where the elephants dance
In a vanishing exhibit
They’re leaving, no clowning
Their exit timed by the drum

Throw the names in the drum
Cut them all flowers
You thought a mere clown
In an environmental circus
Could stop the exhibit
Grassland leaves in a dance

It’s a sorrowful dance
The beat comes for a dirge drum
Yet it’s an honest exhibit
Of the grace of nature like a flower
It knows its season end as does a circus
Come autumn fold the tent and take make up off the clown

What becomes of the hobo clown
No space in the train between aerialists and dancers
The coffee ground beard is not of the circus
He dances to the beat of his own drum
Choosing the calla lily as his flower
The dignity of life and death his exhibit

Exhibitionist clown
Brings flowers to the dance
Honoring the heartbeat drum rhythm of the circus

Prompt: Longing

Buller Gorge

First week of five and hit the wall
Frozen rain and rampant waterfalls
Left hand drive and right hand rider
One lane tossed back and forth
By thin bridges across a gorge
Roadways chipped out
From the cliff face
Stop for tea and hold the hot water
Pot to your ears, nose and hands
Get back on for the worst of it
The locals don’t go out in this
Only those with no choice
Home is thousands of miles back
Or four weeks forward but not here
You must go on to the sea
First the gorge

Where you lose heart with
The cold, with the road
With the waterfalls right on the roadway
Right in your path
Sometimes in your lap
You swerve and you tense
You chill and you sweat
You freeze and you turn
Then the road straightens out
The river quiets down
The mists thicken
Then they lift
The Tasman Sea
In it’s green glory
Breaking against the lava rocks
Pounding into the beach
Flying into the fog
It parts for a look at the
Pale sun

Parking and placing
Helmet on handlebars
Blinking at water and cliffs
Ferns that are tree size
Laced with more waterfalls
Sky the color of key lime pie
Rocks rough enough to cut leather
Sit and lean back to let them try
Tap on your shoulder blades
Work out the tension from
The ride through The Buller Gorge

The oceans roar replaces the bikes
The taste on your lips is the salt of the waves
Fingers in your back
From a rock that defies definition
But you feel it through the riding gear
And it reminds you you made it
You passed the test you gave yourself
The moment of congratulations sputters as
You begin to realize how very
Very far away from home you are

Prompt: Miscommunication

Meet You at the Station

Before cell phones we waited until people got home to talk
She waited until she was absolutely positive he wasn’t going to meet her
Then she licked her wounds thinking this wasn’t going to fly
I thought he was into me but he stood me up
Good thing I’m at the station I can catch up on paperwork

He waited two hours after he got off shift
Doing the crossword puzzles and watching morning TV waiting
Getting underfoot as A shift made the station their home for the next 24
She’s just not coming but I really thought she’d call
I’d have heard if she’d gotten in a wreck but no 911 on Ford trucks today

They don’t know each other and they don’t know each others station
For him it had always been engine number 9
For her it was KSTM and the whole world knew that
Today they said they’d meet each other at the station
They both showed up and never made the connection

Prompt: Event, make it the title

Dog Knocked Out


You get there early and leave her behind
She’s dopey when you pick her up
The comic walk and the long look of
What happened is happening what is

All this to clean her teeth
Clip her nails back to a civilized length
Teeth and nails
Spa day
With drugs