Terry at 60

those impishly beaming eyes

with that wry smile and

those disarmingly

friendly quips have captured

countless check-out clerks and

shopkeepers and flea marketers

and waitresses and all variety of

total strangers…

he can insinuate himself into

an unsuspecting mind and heart

in an instant:

broad and bold faced

warmth, clever quick

cackle barrel humor;

down to earth,

intelligent, urbane

engagingly irreverent,

good old boy

the pirate earrings

may cause a pause,

but his knowing gleam

is as familiar as a country song

and most folks just relax,

exhale and smile back at this

trailer trash sophisticate

and are imbedded with a

butter print impression

that melts very slowly.

to the large and motley

gaggle of friends and associated

misfitting dear ones that inhabit

his out of round circle, he is

dear friend, confidant,

home decorating maven,

consummate shopper,

all around helper, host,

chief comfort food cook

and main bottle washer,

the dinner party planner,

the gossip monger,

the outlandishly embellishing,

gesticulating raconteur,

the wine drinking giggle buddy,

the shoulder-to-cry-on,

person-to-depend-on

port-in-the-storm,

family-like, brother/sister/

uncle/first cousin

never quite removed.

he inhabits a very real

imaginary lodge on a

woebegone floodplain:

a home that is

both splendid

and ravaged enough

by wet trauma

and the threat thereof

for a special edition of

an imaginary magazine:

Architectural Indigestion

and, in recent times

he has endured a perverse

medley of plagues, losses

and pestilences,

relentless enough to exhaust

the perkiest of prom queens

(of which variety, he is definitely not)

but he pushes

on and up and down

and around and carries on,

a touch frayed

and weary

and ever more wary

of what next cosmic shoe may fall…

and he resolutely

(and occasionally dissolutely)

perseveres and

frequently thrives

and even bubbles up

and often gossips just as

animatedly as ever

determinedly and stubbornly

planning

to decorate some more

and plant another garden

and host more dinner parties

and chat up more shop girls

and hustle for more bargains

and boast about more finds

he survives to show us

where to look amidst

the garbage and the flowers

for things way below retail

and to demonstrate

the indomitable human spirit and will

to coordinate brushed stainless

and the color black

And he is a magically

inspirational mix of

Blanche Dubois reposing

and a steel magnolia rising

in his own front yard:

sometimes a bit wilting

sometimes a touch rusting

buffeted by the vicissitudes

of a harsh and cruel world

but still standing

not still, but standing

PB

Roberta

big and brash, she

can talk some trash

feminist iconoclast

with an after burn to last

semi-automatic

anti-establishment

old school,

this is a dyke

with serious bite

in a righteous fight.

a crusader with

a battle axe to grind:

more than willing                      

to give you

a piece of her mind…

But some of that bluster 

ain’t much tougher

than an almond cluster:

hard on the outside

but nutty paste within

and then there’s that

impish naughty grin

and smiling Irish eyes

to disarm  and surprise

for a start

the girl’s got  heart

that’s warmer than toast 

and kinder than most:

the truth, indeed,

is down right mushy

she may snort like a bull

but she can purr like a pussy

Sandy at Seventy

the outside

belies

the inside:

a chiffon

softness

surrounds

her iron will

and beneath 

that powdery

sweet

almost flakey

pastry

crust

exterior

lies

a fiercely

hard

not quite

innocent

clear

resolve

that

stares out

with a

snow blind

purity

of purpose:

driven by

urgent

principles

with eyes fired

by natural fuels

beseeching

semi-preaching…

drumming

for causes

letter writing

for pauses

in wars

and

for cease firings

of all

those

policies

that

leave

doves

poisoned

amongst

the bushes,

she

advocates

on the run

button holing

urging

cajoling

while

racing for cures

inveighing

against toxins

pleading

for justice

fighting

against

violence

against

women and kids

and for healthy

nutrition

and opposing

the deathly

military

industrial

condition

she’s been

a traveler

a seeker

an author

an educator

a trainer

a concerned

friend

an alluring lover

a devoted mother

the wrong man’s

wife

a very loving

compassionate

partner and

an extremely

doting grandmother

she’s run her races

from start

to finish

with an

indefatigable

drive to push

on and through

in the

gregarious

loneliness

of

moving

both

with

and

separate

from

the crowd

she’s gone

a very long way

and a very great

distance

her fires burn

inside

for passionately

way more

than

the mere expectation

of doing best

in her age group

in any race

of any kind

against fierce odds

and through

a variety

of pains

this runner

has overcome

much:

the alien

internal enemy

the heartbreaks

and the missed steps

and the sad turns

in this and that

marathon.

but

doggedly

optimistic

and

shamelessly

brave of heart

she’s kept

her course

regenerating

her

body

mind

and

spirit

and run on

and on.

a

beautiful

and miraculous

woman

with the energy

and the

kick to

finish

strong                                                                             P Bukovec 2009

 Gloria at 60

   

strongly

beautiful

domesticated

wildflower    

tentatively

asserting

her place

in the garden

self effacingly

here and there

she stands

slightly on the

perimeter.

transplanted late

already quite grown

from unforgiving

farm land

to semi rich

acid/dry city soil

sometimes longing

for bigger  brighter

blossoms

on her plant

closer

to the center

of things

but not quite sure

she could handle

the attention

that would bring

so she dares not

bloom

too full:

but she’s put

herself together

with good color 

and texture

and fashion sense

and

(quite confidentially)

loves to be

noticed for it

amidst the other flowers

but wilts a bit

if the light

is too bright

observation too close

      11

just slightly

an awkward beauty:

she of soft creamy skin

and fine brown hair

she of attractive face

and prominent nose

and warm eyes

and friendly smile

and soft/inviting

voice (especially

siren on the phone)

and easy laugh

to lighten

and brighten

a sometimes serious

countenance

she can

be present

in a sometimes

distracted way:

inner anxieties

and concerns

pulling her there

from here

she can also

be present

in a purposeful

sincerely

connected way

leaning wrinkled

brow forward

straining to reach

something in her

that touches you

carefully

and with

small children

she has a

special gift:

liltingly contactful

gently

nurturantly

connecting

cooing

and wooing

the sweeties

to her smiling

soothing voice

and they

are delighted

lll

her home is a

richly soft

and deeply

colorful place

of harmonious

textures and hues

and shapes

filled with artifacts

from exotic cultures

and artwork from

far flung travels:

a home of peace

and comfort

and safety

and balance:

a reflection

of much of

what lies within

her gradually

more quieting

ever more

compassionate

mind

there is still the

harpy buzz

inside

about  tending

the nest

and the

appearance

of things

to the

unseen or

overly

imagined others

but time

and age

and acceptance 

have

modulated

the tone and

softened the

harshness of the

judging

hags within.

now a woman

of a certain age

she’s mostly

mellowing

and sweetening

and picking up

more flavors

and feeling

more actively

and robustfully

full bodied.

she’s past

the flashes

and sweats

into a  cooler

drier

mindful

place.

she’s less

self conscious

now, but not

completely free

of other

gnawing hums:

because,

with age

comes not only

wisdom, but

also a few

other

troublesome 

bothers:

as she plans

and takes

more trips

to dreamy places

romancing

hill towns

and ancient cities

and antiquities

and gardens

and gargoyles 

in the architectures

of Chaco Canyon,

Tuscany, Rome,

Dubrovnik, Vancouver,

Oaxaca, Montreal

Paris and Pueblo;

and as she beholds

the vistas and

imbibes in the vines

and delicacies

of exotic places,

she afterwards

notices herself

in the pictures

with a little

dismay about

this line  or

that wrinkle 

and fusses more

at her hair and

her eyes

and her neck

in photos and

then, in

the mirrors.

but, hopefully,

this too

will undergo a

menopause

to free her

mind of pesky

flows

of bloody

thoughts

and let her

ease

carefree and

contently into

that face of

lived out and

experienced

loveliness

PB