
Ever notice how
rigid Mort is?
It’s like he’s
6 feet under,
already…
I combed his toes,
taggin’ ‘em
gave his
cat a tonic,
a lil nip
and his bull head
room
& he never batted an eye.
©Karen Robiscoe

Ever notice how
rigid Mort is?
It’s like he’s
6 feet under,
already…
I combed his toes,
taggin’ ‘em
gave his
cat a tonic,
a lil nip
and his bull head
room
& he never batted an eye.
©Karen Robiscoe

years later
> at the schoolhouse <
I come to learn that
Chinese jump rope’s made
in America,
that freeze tag’s
a photo
and that
hopscotch
is fermented,
–sold at
monkey bars
(just a hop, skip, and backwards alphabet away)
to the swing set
(grills on the right & boys line the surf)
who
teeter
&
totter
and eventually
catapult
(like a really well-done shotput)
beyond non-regulation B-Ball hoops,
3 Wall racket ball,
and torn chain-link
holding it all together
while Mary—
old-fashioned Mary,
Sweet, muddled, old-fashioned Mary just goes ‘round
(and round)
(and round)
playing hide-and-go-seek like to make an astronaut dizzy
…
G-force, you know, as
the steepest slide affords
a different kind of thrill…
©Karen R.

…veneer sandpapered away,
an unvarnished me
(wood)
tell you most logs
in your eye
ring hollow
(wood)
concentrically tell you
–the whine filling
these not-wholes
is cheap as chuck,
(wood)
tell you there’s too much of it, too,
whinO’s paradise
sticky sweet sap which
lack of pith
(soft-core)
is a pity
–and rust that blights–
all
me trees’
(wood)
tell you this phyl’um should
zip it
or at the very least
stop carving trunk unilaterally,
(wood)
tell you initials are enough—
not an entire
recyclopedia.
Save
paper-
-less is more…
©Karen Robiscoe

tri-umph
to do it
(just do it)
try—
umph!!
Pour a little get up and go
(on it)
add a lil somethin’ somethin’
(to it)
put a little extra
oomph
(in it)
in everything you do.
Grab that blue ribbon—
that A—
that gold star standard….
to hell with
limbo
(ing)
set that bar.
©me

what if we really ARE just strings
~as some eggheads hypothesize~
tapestries of teeny tiny strings
(good-egg heads)
and teeny tiny frets
(with strut)
and back-up band?
–and God!–
(is good backup band!)
hummin’
(human)
née
strummin’
(strewed, an’)
left to mold spin off
LPs?
(derivative = in His image)
brought to
…um…
you, courtesy of the
G-Man
> on G-tar <
(plus free sky miles)
that’d be somethin’ to
woof
&
tweet about!
(replay)
accord–
–a family
a note–
–a lone
a harmony–
–heaven
a crescendo–
–death.
and reverb’
. . .
~what comes next~
©Karen Robiscoe
prompt: harmony

a Cath’a’holic,
I crave my Christian fix
(massive opiates)
the cross on my back
(blood-thirsty)
so burdensome,
and the Eucharist
so stingy—
(genuflect as needed)
–it’s crackers!
(I wine)
crackers—
save
holey Jeez…
©Karen Robiscoe
P
ulling adult hood
around baby face,
I remember velvet
teen years,
when I knew heh-v’ry-thing
and life was plush
–totting up triumphs,
and sowing oats instead of
sewing button eyes
back on
and carin’ was only
kidding around…
©Carin’ Robiscoe