Over the Envy

Another in the Deadly Sin series, using a random title from FAWM.

I thought I was over the envy.
We hadn’t met for years.
I’d gone my way, she’d gone hers.
We both were successful and happy.

She picked the restaurant.
A bit steep for me, but I had my plastic.
Designer suit and perfect lipstick—
She hugged me short and laughed.

Under the make-up and electric tan
She was just as old as me.
I noted this fact briefly,
My eyes on the rock on her hand.

I saw her scan me up and down
Assessing, judging shoes and dress.
She said she had lost my address,
Was I still living here in town?

“Parochial, dowdy, aging frump”
Echoed in my head,
Even though she really said,
“I’m so thrilled that you could come.”

What we said and what we ate
I really can’t recall.
The voice of Envy drowned it all,
And hate stared from my plate.

“Good-bye,” “So nice,” “Let’s keep in touch.”
Like hell we will, I thought.
This old acquaintance’ll be forgot,
As old acquaintance must.

Envy smiled and dusted off his hands.
Again he’d done the dirty work
For the Enemy of Man.


The Reflection Freestyle

The title is a randomly-generated FAWM title, and I found the words and phrases in some of the reflections in Forward Day by Day.


Who are You?
Demographic information.
Skin color, level of education.
Judging Others.
Demanding. Failing.
Big deal guilt.
Punishing. Paralyzed.
Distracted by attractions, addictions.

Fully awake, nothing is wasted.
Piece of Wisdom:
Forgiveness frees,
A Prayer for Freedom.
Surrendering to
God’s way: good fruits.
Snips and snatches,
Echoes unmerited
Of world-changing love, mercy.

Radical hospitality—
Sisters and brothers.

What the Flower Taught

The assignment was to write about a flower. Of course, I had to make it didactic. This time I used limerick form throughout.


A woman who lived in her head
Assumed that the desert was dead
Till she sat on a rock
And had quite a shock
To see what God’s desert had bred.

She sat very still half an hour,
And her heart changed the barren to bower.
Right there at her feet,
So neat and so meek,
Grew a tiny, magnificent flower.

As she gazed, she could suddenly see
How perfect, how happy, how free
The sweet blossom was,
And she asked herself, “Does
God shower such blessing on me?”

She heard in the breeze Someone say,
“If you seize, like this flower, the day
You’ll feel in the moment
An end to your torment,
A peace your mind cannot betray.”

So the woman now lives and loves better,
Thanking the God who makes deserts.
Like a flower or star,
If we be who we are,
We live with God’s blessing forever.

Book-Spine Poem: Mystics

The assigned topic was to take a selection of titles from the spines of the books in my bookcase and make something of them.

Raw Man, Alias Shakespeare,
Was Living on the Border of the Holy.
The Confessions he uttered
Into the Silent Land
Echoed off the Rocks and Minerals,
And God Spoke:
“Already Amazing,
Open Mind, Open Heart
To the Naked Now.
And find me in the
Interior Castle.”

[Draft] Rant on a Pompous Ass

Just venting my spleen after the weekend.


As undergrads we figured out
How to pass all of our courses
By quoting another man’s thoughts
And citing and naming our sources.

But we aren’t undergrads now.
By now we should think on our own.
We’ve won, we’ve lost, we’ve been around,
We’ve dealt with our troubles, and grown.

So put down your ponderous readings,
Stop hiding behind some other men’s brains
Propping up your vacuity with other men’s names.

Like Whitman when he heard the learned astronomer,
I need a breath to clear the air—
The bullshit’s so damn thick in here.
(Did you like how I dropped “Whitman” there?)

Professor Piled-High Mucky-Muck,
I have got no names to drop.
All I have is me to share,
As you look down from your lofty chair,
Scorning, mocking, condescending—
Here my rant has found its ending.

God Invented Sex

The second in the series of Deadly Sin poems, I tried to use one of the random FAWM titles, but it didn’t work with my idea.  I chose this title to grab the attention of the reader.


When God invented sex, it wasn’t just to multiply.
It’s to make another person the apple of your eye.
To look beyond yourself, see someone else as sexy.
God rewards your congress with a peak of ecstasy.

But Satan thought he knew a way to use the great orgasm
To damn the soul of Everyman and drop him down a chasm.
He’d stimulate the urge for sex till it became a must.
This forceful itch, divorced from Love, the devil christened Lust.

Now all it takes to make Lust rise
Is distance and a pair of eyes.
Look at Cosmo, look at Hustler
View porn clips through a Viewmaster.
Watch R or X on a movie screen,
Let Google search for the obscene.
From Mother’s nightstand sneak a book,
Through keyhole peep-show sneak a look.

“Victory!” the devil cried, “Evil wins again!
I’ve taken out the Love from sex and turned it into sin.
Now it’s about the ego getting selfish satisfaction.
Forget about the Other; it’s just action and reaction.”

It seems whenever God designs to curb our selfishness,
Evil will arrange it so we act more selfish yet.
But God will get the last laugh as soon as kids are born:
Family Love replaces Eros; Dr. Seuss replaces porn.

I’m So Delicious

Don’t you just love when things magically come together?  I wrote this yesterday to a random title generated on the FAWM site, and today it fits the prompt to write something about food.  Actually, this is one in a series of poems on the 7 deadly sins: gluttony.

I’m so delicious. Eat me up.
Your eyes assure I’ll satisfy.
Your lust says, “Go on, take a try.”
Your heart is hoping I’m the saving
Answer to your endless craving.

I’m so delicious. Drink me up.
The first time makes your senses spin.
See how much you can take in.
Some more, some more! Why ever stop?
I’m just the thing to fill you up.

I’m so delicious. Have some more.
I’ll meet your need and make you whole.
I cancel out regrets of old.
The past is past. It can’t be helped,
But I’m here now, so help yourself.

I’m so delicious. Lick me up.
I’m an ambrosial concoction,
Unlike Love’s cold abstraction.
How can such things really be?
I’m in your hand. Have some of me.

Take more and more. What’s that you say?
The blush is off the fading flavor?
Now your stomach’s turning traitor?
You throw me up. I’m on the floor.
You don’t want me any more?

Well, my dear, are you surprised?
I seduce through tongue and eyes.
When I pass through, my pleasure’s past.
That satisfaction will not last.
I’m not Love. I’m not God.
You poor, foolish, hungry sod.
I can’t fulfill your deepest wishes.
No, but I am So Delicious.