Daffy Horoscopes

Dear George,

I have been thinking about going back to work as a horoscope writer.  As you know, I’ve been taking lots of poetry classes, and recently I discovered that horoscopes are known as the “poetry of astrology”.   I would have to learn some astrology, of course, since horoscopes are based on the positions of the sun, moon, and stars.  But poetic talents also enter in, since the best horoscopes are mysterious and titillating.  Our local newspaper, like most, publishes horoscopes every day, and I’ve been keeping track of my favorites for a while.  Here are some of the horoscopes I find most inspiring.

Love,

Dave 

ARIES (Mar. 21 - Apr. 19):  Your life tears off from the form, circling back to offer you a choice.   

TAURUS (Apr. 20 - May 20):  You may find yourself keeping an eye on things that don’t even exist.    

GEMINI (May 21 - June 21): There are many ways to capture in your heart the life inside of life.     

CANCER (June 22 - July 22):  The universe is expanding at a rate that few agree on.  

LEO (July 23 - Aug. 22):  The answer is no to 100% of the questions that are never asked. 

VIRGO (Aug. 23 - Sept. 22): Your love is not a bubble that will pop when it smacks upon a sharp reality. 

LIBRA (Sept. 23 - Oct. 23):  The stumbling, bumbling, dropping and spilling — that’s the way of the living. 

SCORPIO (Oct. 24 - Nov. 21):  Something inter dimensional is occurring within. 

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21): Wherever the stuff was, there’s usually more there. 

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19):  If you mapped out all you saw, it would be but a tiny dot next to the map of all you never saw.  

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18):  Facts don’t get to be facts just by showing up factually.  

PISCES (Feb. 19 - Mar. 20): A systematic approach may discount the intelligence in you that doesn’t speak to logic.   

The Persnickety Triolet

Dear George,

In trying to compose poetry I’m often drawn to traditional forms with a specific structure.  That’s because I’m a high-structure guy and I need some directives in order to get started.  One of my favorites is the triolet.  I’ve labelled it “persnickety” here because it’s a pain in the neck to write.  Short and simple but surprising difficult to figure out.  Triolets originated in France in the 13th century, originally as devotional poems written by monks but later as poems which typically focused on love or nature (or sometimes humor).  They’re eight lines long and rely heavily on rhyme and repetition.  There are only two rhyme-endings in the poem.  The first line is repeated in lines 4 and 7, and the second line is repeated in line 8.  Thus the rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB, where the capital letters refer to repeated lines and the small letters a and b rhyme with A and B respectively.  What makes triolets challenging is writing a poem in which the refrains are natural (vs. artificial) and where the meaning of the first line changes slightly throughout the course of the poem.  I’d say I’ve accomplished the latter aim in just a couple of the poems below.  Here is what I’ve come up with so far.

Love,

Dave  

OLLI

I’ve gone back to school at OLLI            

My thing, mostly poetry classes 

To hang out with classmates jolly

I’ve gone back to school at OLLI

I pray that my efforts aren’t folly

I enjoy being part of the masses

I’ve gone back to school at OLLI

My thing, mostly poetry classes

Big Boy

We brunch at Big Boy on Sunday morn. 

My favorite, the Classic, the Number One.

When we wish our lives to be less forlorn 

we brunch at Big Boy on Sunday morn.

All my neighbors view Big Boy with scorn

but it brings back happy times with our son.  

We brunch at Big Boy on Sunday morn.

My favorite, the Classic, the Number One.

Lost Glasses

I’ve lost my glasses once again 

I’ve scoured the household everywhere 

Not in the kitchen, not in the den 

I’ve lost my glasses once again

The tragic fate of older men

whose brains have shrunk from wear and tear 

I’ve lost my glasses once again

I’ve scoured the household everywhere

New York Times Angst

I read the New York Times each day. 

Its news, so grim and dismal. 

To check out Trump and moral decay, 

 I read the New York Times each day.

Sometimes I’ll scan the arts, ballet

But mostly I seek the abysmal. 

 I read the New York Times each day

Its news, so grim and dismal. 

Zumba

Zumba, my tactic for battling old age

Even though I’m a raggedy dancer 

I struggle all class to stay on the page 

Zumba, my tactic for battling old age 

It calms the soul, it softens the rage 

Even Oprah said it helps prevent cancer 

Zumba, my tactic for battling old age 

Even though I’m a raggedy dancer 

Self-Improvement 

A far better husband I could be 

If I brought daisies once a week 

Attended the opera with uncurbed glee 

A far better husband I could be

I might propose on bended knee

Then book a trip to an isle Greek  

A far better husband I could be

If I brought daisies once a week 

“You Need A Gun”

The cop said we should get a gun 

A gun to help protect our house

To keep the burglars on the run 

The cop said we should get a gun

But guns are one thing that I shun

My fear, being shot at by my spouse 

The cop said we should get a gun

A gun to help protect our house

Fitbit Blues

My Fitbit is home in the drawer 

This entire walk is a waste 

All these steps and I’ve failed to keep score 

My Fitbit is home in the drawer

My shins and my kneecaps are sore 

I’m left with a bad aftertaste 

My Fitbit is home in the drawer

This entire walk is a waste

Life’s Secret 

The secret of life is dancing 

It’s when your true self becomes free

The turning, the dipping, the prancing

The secret of life is dancing 

Swing music, so alive, so entrancing 

The rhythms fill one with glee 

The secret of life is dancing 

It’s when your true self becomes free 

Nature's Razzle-Dazzle: Burnet Woods in January

Dear George, 

I’ve gotten a bit obsessive, taking photos in Burnet Woods all month long.  However, our snowless, warmish weather, along with my daily Fitbit goal, has been conducive to lots of long hikes.  I think that winter is the best time for photos in the forest.  The trees are bare, you can see for longer vistas, and the muted pastel colors — browns, blacks, grays, silvers — are aesthetically pleasing.  We are fortunate to live only a five minute walk from Burnet Woods, a Cincinnati city park, and I enjoy it every season of the year.  Here is how things were looking in January.

Love,

Dave