R.B.'s HB

Happy Birthday Raphael,
swinging away.
A March rookie
with spring bells.
From T-Ball to pro,
seems like a day.

Happy Birthday Mister “B”,
I wish you more and many.
A poetic Mister Baseball, thee.
As those of our ilk like to say
“cent’ anni.”

So, keep writing of life
inside the lines,
as metaphors for our
existence.
And cherish each inning
as memory shines
through errors and strikes,
you go for the fences.

©T.Puma/MMXII

NOVA LUNA

I am the Luna Goddess
what smiles on those
misbegotten mortals.
Who always mis-read
my intentions.
Neither friend nor foe,
I hang for your amusement
and philosophy.
I am a conundrum:
Do you miss me when I am New?

©T.Puma/MMXII

D.O.B.-D.O.A.

Yeah just a hyphen.

My mother lived to about 90.
Yet it seemed like a flash.

Driving through a small town,
stopping at the only traffic light.

60 seconds and you move-on.
The town is no-more.

That was it.
All over!

Get the message?

©T.Puma/MXII

D.O.B.

I filled-in a
questionaire.
I learned that
I am three age-ranges
from the END.
Fvckn' Actuarial tables.

RHYTHM

I am enchanted by the rhythm of your being.
Walking, I know you by the rhythm of your gait.
I awaken, and out of the fog,
I feel the rhythm of your breath.
When we meet, I see the rhythm of your smile.

When you are gone
the metronome stops.

©T.Puma/MMXII