Tuesday, March 30

odd balls

I like the odd balls.
The one in the group of black trench coats staring at the clouds.
The window with the beaded curtains.
The pink houses.
The neon tights.

I smile at the portico capped with rusted iron angles.
The bimbo who wipes the gelato from nonno's chin.
Cherry blossoms at the bus stop.
Crazy curly frizzy hair.
Enormous orange hats.

Just when I'm feeling that I am the odd one out,
I look up and notice someone or something distinctly different,
The wonderful quirks that we humans bring to light,
That set things off,
But make it quite right.


  1. Nice. I love this line: "I smile at the portico capped with rusted iron angles." That has some mysterious music and rhythm that is jazz-like in it's poetry. Bravo!

  2. Well put and so true!

  3. How do you do that ?

    Have all those ideas and images and make it rhyme and everything.

    I kind of see it as a form of "magic" cos I'll learn to fly before I learn to write poetry.

  4. Love it.

    You and Kitty could be such good friends.

  5. I like the way you incorporate self examination with people watching. Excellent poem.

  6. Well said ! Suddenly i feel far more comfortable !



...and you may ask yourself, well...how did I get here?