THE PRODIGAL SON

The feast is finally over;

I look around the home

I’d lived in long before

The urge took me to roam,

Before my restless heart

And feet took me astray,

And I asked Father for

What would be mine someday.

I took it and I left

My family standing there,

Nor heeded Father’s blessing Or Mother’s final prayer.

Now that I had money

I spent it wide and free,

Gambling drinking, whoring,

Until life turned on me.

My wealth was quickly gone,

My gay companions too.

I sold what I had left

And wondered what to do.

I sat among my rags,

Begged in the market place,

Hoping none I knew

Would see my fall from grace.

I went to work with swine

And ate their husks and grain,

Slept on straw and dirt,

But I could not complain.

I chose the road I trod,

Careless of its end,

Reaping what I sowed,

Without a home or friend.

“Servants in my father’s

House eat well,” I thought

Bitterly I wondered

What it was I’d sought.

Finally I grew tired

Of life in this pigpen.

Not as son but servant

I’d seek my home again.

Thus did I return

In worn and tattered state.

My father saw me from

Afar, rushed through the gate.

“My son! My son!” He cried.

And hushed my words of sorrow.

“Let past remain the past

And look for bright tomorrows.”

He gave me robes, a ring,

Prepared a sumptuous feast,

My waywardness seemed not

To matter in the least.

All is now forgiven, and

I’ve once again a home.

Memories creep unbidden

Of what it was to roam;

To live life free and easy,

With friends picked here and there,

Throw the dice, drink wine,

Without a single care;

Oh the silken fleshpots

Making sweet the night;

Flaxen, perfumed tresses,

Red lips boldly bright.

The wholesome life’s not all

That it’s cracked up to be;

If things turned out badly

Some pigs would welcome me.

This robe would fetch a pretty price

At Jake’s used clothing store;

I must find out just what

Gold rings are going for.

LIGHTENING FLAME

It was a Chevy, fifty two,

Silver stripes on midnight blue.

Everyone for miles around

Knew that souped up engine’s sound.

Bud called it his “Lightening Flame,”

And it lived up to its name.

Bud would boast that he could take

Any car at any stake

On the track or on the street;

Every challenge, every meet.

Calvin came up with his Ford,

And his girlfriend Sue on board.

“Come on Bud; let’s have a race.”

Bud said “You can’t even pace

My car. But I’ll drag with you

Only if your girlfriend Sue

Doesn’t have to come along.

Chicks and racing don’t belong.

“Look here Bud, she’ll do no harm.

Sue is like my good luck charm.”

Bud agreed reluctantly,

For as far as he could see

Girls were just a nuisance. They

Managed to get in the way

Of important things like races;

Didn’t seem to know their places.

But he’d race with Calvin now.

Sue did not count anyhow.

Calvin was a good enough

Driver to know just where love

Fit. It never crossed Cal’s mind

When he took his place in line.

Idling side by side they heard

Anton give the starting word:

“Go!” And they were off. Bud kept

Right behind Cal’s car, and crept

Slowly up; began to pass--

Suddenly he floored the gas.

Bud’s car was a streak of flame,

Roaring like a diesel train.

Calvin’s driving skill kicked in.

“I’m not going to let him win.”

“Sue,” he muttered, “hang on tight”,

As he swung hard to the right.

Savagely he jerked the wheel,

Listening to his tires squeal;

Blocked the highway in one rash

Motion. Bud must stop or crash.

Bud could neither stop nor slow;

There was one place he could go,

And that was the nearest ditch.

“Crazy, fucking son-of-a –bitch!”

Bud yelled. “Well I’m going to win!

I won’t fall for this again.

I’ll drive right up your rear end.

It’s ‘game over’ for you, friend.”

Calvin heard his engine gun;

Knew this race was far from done.

Sue sobbed “Calvin,that scared me.

If Bud hadn’t turned—well, gee!

It’s not worth it just to win.

Please don’t take that chance again.”

“Of your own free will you came,”

Calvin said “I’m not to blame.

It’s too late now to decide

You’re not happy with this ride.

I’ll do anything I must

To leave Bud’s car in the dust.”

It was even for a while,

Then they reached the ‘Murder Mile’,

Full of rocks and sharply curved;

Bud was leading now. He swerved.

Cal turned with him, and Sue shrieked,

But they hadn’t even peaked.

Cal’s speedometer now read

Ninety five, but Bud still led.

In those savage turns it seemed

That they left the ground. Sue screamed.

Calvin took the lead and then

Craftily maneuvered. When

Bud tried passing, either side,--

This road wasn’t very wide—

He was blocked. “You let me pass!

Or I’ll run right up your ass!”

“Bastard!” Cal yelled back. “You don’t

Have a chance, because I won’t

Give up.” Then Bud hit the gas.

“This may wreck us, but I’ll pass.”

He hit Cal’s back bumper; then

Hit it harder once again.

Cal’s speed stood at one-oh-two;

He ignored the sobbing Sue.

Bud saw just a tiny space

To get by. “I’ll win this race!”

And he went at one-oh-four,

Sideswiping the right hand door.

Calvin couldn’t keep control;

Bud went right straight through the hole.

Calvin’s car began to shake

At speeds past what it could take.

“I don’t want to die!” wailed Sue.

“Why’d I ever come with you?”

To lead once again Cal tried,

As he rocked from side to side.

Then into the ditch he spun,

And, for Cal, the race was done.

With a crack Sue’s pretty head

Hit the windshield. She was dead.

“Sue!” gasped Calvin, just before

An explosion’s mighty roar

Shook the air. Bud looked to see

And caromed into a tree.

Bud was not much hurt, but then

He would never race again.

Buddy fixed his priceless car,

I won’t drive it any more,

He thought, but it’s not to blame.

I still love you, ‘Lightening Flame’

Buddy kept his car from rust,

Mold and mildew; any dust;

Polishing until it gleamed

Like the life that he’d once dreamed

Of. Now it was gone forever.

Buddy knew that he would never

Be a champion racing star,

For he’d always bear the scar

Of the death that claimed his friend;

Put two young lives to an end.

Buddy got a little Olds.

No more would he be the bold

Conqueror of each highway,

Crowned with glory, for that day

Was past. He would never drive

This car over fifty-five.

Years went by. The fifty two

Chevy looked as good as new.

Not so Bud. His youth was gone;

Only memories lingered on,

And the sad time finally came: He must leave his “Lightening Flame”.

Old Bud hobbled to a chair

On the porch and just sat there,

Thinking how to say good-bye.

“Well, friend, we must part, for I

Have to leave tomorrow. The

Golden Rest Home has placed me.

You have been my joy and pride;

We should go for one last ride.

But my eyes and ears are tired,

And my license long expired.”

Bud sat thinking, with a smile,

How they’d traveled all those miles…

Challenges and races won…

Break-neck speed…and being young…

How a car named “Lightening Flame”

Always lived up to its name…

How it cornered every lap…

Then he went in for his nap.

SUNSET HAIKU

Clouds whipped into cream

Streaked with cherry, lime, and peach

Swirling through amber wine

SEANONS’ HAIKUS

WINTER

White silk, crystal crust,

Diamond sprinkled with pearls,

Silver tips of light.

SPRING

Emerald shot sprays,

Jade shattered on pink marble,

Carved carnival glass.

SUMMER

Rays and rows of gilt,

Brass bowl dripping with honey,

Golden treasures spread.

AUTUMN

Fluttering topaz,

Copper shading into bronze,

Rubies underfoot.

WINTER GRASS

Palest silver-gold

Stiff as crystal strung wires

Not dead, not alive.

AUTUMN HAIKU

Spinning copper swirl

Gold melted down in fire

Jade turned to rubies.

NIGHT

Lime sliver of moon

Silver stars like sequins dropped

Over indigo.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

ATTITUDE

Debbie sat on a rock, enjoying some peace and quiet. Her long green tail shone in the sun, and so did the long blonde hair, which she was combing with a fragment of coral. Her peace was soon shattered when Denise and Tiffany came swimming up to sit beside her. Each greeted her with an unhappy sigh and “Hi.” They were the least happy creatures Debbie had ever known.

Denise wore her black hair in a loose bun. Tiffany’s hair was very short and curly—almost frizzy. “I hate my hair this way,” Denise remarked.

“Why don’t you wear it down?” Debbie suggested.

“That’s worse. It’s all stringy then, and gets in my eyes.”

“It’s better than looking like a brillo pad,” Tiffany muttered.

Denise flopped around trying to get comfortable. “The sun’s too hot,” she complained.

“You could have stayed in the ocean,” Debbie pointed out.

“It’s boring there. Life is boring.”

“All right; let’s do something that isn’t boring, not just sit around playing shell games.”

“Like what?”

“There’s a party at Seagrove tonight.”

Denise wrinkled her nose. “That dumpy little place with the tacky coloured lanterns?”

“Who’s going?” Tiffany asked. “The same boring crowd?”

“The lobsters.”

“Ugh! I can’t stand them. They way they go around with their eyes sticking out, always looking at everybody.”

“How about the clams?”

“They’re hopeless. They never say a word to anybody.”

“The whole oyster bed is coming.”

“They’re even worse—a bunch of gossipy gigglers.”

“Some jellyfish.”

Oh, they’re so shallow—you can see right through them.”

“Lawrence Whelk and his orchestra are playing.”

“The old bubble kingfish? That’s no selling point.”

Then Debbie smiled and dropped the bombshell she’d been saving. “Brock will be there.”

The apathetic faces she’d seen only minutes ago came to life. “Brock?” Brock!?” “Really?” How do you know?”

“Hmm.” Debbie began using the piece of coral to file her nails. “A little bird told me.” Actually, it had been a pelican named Bill, who was Brock’s valet. Denise and Tiffany looked at each other and sighed. The name “Brock” conjured up wavy brown hair, ocean gray eyes, a muscular torso, a magnificent tail that just wouldn’t quit…

The two mermaids dived into the water. Denise said “I’m going to get my hair done,” and Tiffany said “I’m going to get a wig.”

Then they were gone, and Sean was sitting on the rock beside Debbie. “You want to go to a party at Seagrove tonight?”

“Sure! Isn’t that the nice little place with all those coloured lanterns floating around?”

Debbie nodded. “The lobsters will be there.”

“Those guys crack me up, the way they go all over the place with their eyes sticking out.”

“The clams.”

“They’re really deep, those clams. Never speak unless they have something to say. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard any of them talk…”

“The oyster bed.”

“Great. I like those cute little chatterboxes.”

“Some jellyfish will be there.”

“You always know where you are with the jellyfish. They’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Lawrence Whelk and his orchestra are playing.”

“Great! Dancing!” Sean flipped into the air, did a twist, and came down. “Hot dog!”

“I wonder what that is,” Debbie mused thoughtfully.

“It’s something humans say when they’re happy. At least that’s what someone told me.”

“I know what a dog is. And I guess it could get hot.”

“There’s also a ‘chilly dog.’ I guess that what humans say when they’re unhappy.”

“They’re so strange.”

“You mean dogs?” Sean asked.

“Well yes, those too. But I’m talking about land dwellers. The way their tails are split and having to walk everywhere.” Debbie sighed. “It’s funny, but it’s sad too.” She shook her head. “Anyway, let’s think about the party. Brock’s going to be there.”

Sean frowned. “Who’s that? I don’t know anything about him.”

“I don’t know much myself. But you’ll like him—because you like everyone.” Debbie leaned forward and kissed Sean on the nose. “And that’s one of the eighteen thousand reasons I like you.”