The Culinary Prince and Pauper

My life is
a bowl of tapioca;
Hers is chili—five-alarm.
But I wonder if
sometimes
she craves a bite
of tapioca
as much as
I crave chili?

Lori Fiechter
September 23, 2000

Permission Denied

Poor kid,
He got an earful:
A lecture and a half.
Old adages aside,
it sometimes does hurt
to ask.
Lori Fiechter
September 23, 2000

Alive, but not Living

Rural, but not rustic;
Urban, but not urbane;
schooled, though not educated;
Accumulated, not gained.
Lori Fiechter
September 25, 2000

Artist to Bemused Patron

If it makes no sense,
then I’m better
than I thought.

I have a friend who occasionally e-mails me articles dealing with science or technology. I don’t know how I ever conveyed the impression that I would have a skunk’s chance in a perfumery to comprehend such articles. But I dutifully read them through, hoping that eventually, something might begin to make sense.

Even a Fool

(see Proverbs 17:28)

He considers me intelligent;
Who am I to dissuade him?
I know I could persuade him
otherwise
by simply opening my mouth.
Oftimes, when fools are silent,
no one recognizes us.

Lori Fiechter
September 23, 2000

Another friend of mine has a wonderful sense of self-deprecating humor; a sort of wry modesty. If it were not modesty, though, it would just be bald fact.

Self-deprecating Humor

Self-deprecating humor
only works as exaggeration.
If you really are as
clumsy or untalented
as you say,
that is not self-deprecation.
It is truth—with no toupee.

Lori Fiechter
September 23, 2000

Older, yes--but Wiser?

I’m growing older,
but when does wiser come?
I looked for it

with the first gray hair,
and in the creases
of those laugh-line wrinkles.
But middle-age spread
hasn’t yet reached my head;
though my figure is mature,
my behavior is not.
Maturity is a condition
I’ve not yet caught;
And sometimes,
I’m not sure
that I want to.

Lori Fiechter
September 22, 2000

Euphoria is Over-rated

Euphoria wears off,
But that’s OK.
Complacency takes
less effort
to sustain.

Lori Fiechter
September 22, 2000

I try to remember I was once a roach too. It is so easy to forget—and lack compassion for those who are still afraid of the light.

Sleeping in the Light

(John 3:19-21)

Sleeping in the light
and walking in darkness,
a loathsome roach scurries,
afraid of its shadow.
Does "let there be light"
apply even to roaches?

Can a poor roach like me
ever be
a beautiful creature of light?

Lori Fiechter
September 19, 2000

Why can’t my good dreams be as vivid as my nightmares? Yes, I know I John 4:18; I’ve quoted it to my brain. But when my brain is still half-asleep, it doesn’t listen well.

Fears Bubble Up

Fears bubble up
and sometimes,
bubble over.
They are specters
and wraiths
casting unwholesome
shadows,
distorting familiar shapes
into the fantastical.
Amplifying whispers,
revving my heartbeat;
someone--open the curtain
and send in the sun
before I am undone.

Lori Fiechter
September 19, 2000

Are you one of those who avoids silence at all costs? One who always has to have ambient noise? Or do you get so little quiet that you relish the silence? The next time you are surrounded by silence, even for an instant, think about what kind of silence it is.

Shades of Silence

Not always warm and golden,
sometimes icy silver:
awkward,
fearful,
eerie,
haughty.
Those are the dark,
cold shades of silence.
The other side is
restful,
reverent,
poignant,
homey.
Foe or companion,
Terror or friend;
Silence says much
if you listen.

Lori Fiechter
September 8, 2000

There are days when everything goes smoothly, as planned. But then there are those days of the two left feet; two left feet on an obstacle course.

Float like a Brick

I waddle like a duck on land
and paddle like a cat in water.
I pounce like a cow
and soar like a chicken.
I float like a brick
and sink like a feather;
Somehow, I never
quite got it together.
Lori Fiechter
September 13, 2000

I read a sketch about a successful businessman; he was charitable and took a real interest in helping others. His only flaw was that he couldn’t quite understand those who were not able to "lift themselves up from their own bootstraps" the way he had. He didn’t understand those who were not also self-starters. I thought of the burden of the good example. I prefer someone with at least one flaw; I like him even better if he has a flaw that is cheerfully admitted.

We Are Not Good Enough

We are lazy; you are industrious.
You are the model of efficiency;
We are unabashed time wasters.
We are stubborn; you are pliable
and reasonable.
Your armor has no chinks.
You excel at things
in which we have no interest
or ability.
You hold up a standard
too high for mortal beings.
You are everything we are not.
We are not good enough
and never will be.
We are not you.

Lori Fiechter
September 7, 2000

As I was mowing, I mistook a stick for a snake—again. And then I thought of a cartoon I saw recently; the question was "is your cup half-full or half-empty?" The answer: "my cup was stolen." These are really two half-poems, sewn together.

Half-Empty Snake?

I see a snake in every stick,
in every buzz, a bite.
In every envelope, a bill;
In every gift, a bribe.
Paranoid or pessimist,
or just a prescient realist;
I see a storm in every cloud,
In every hand, a fist.
(segue into:)
So I’ll take that half-empty cup
for it’s better than no cup
or this one that is
leaky and chipped.
I’ll take the cup
that is never half-full;
It is better than this one
that slices my lip;
I’d be glad for a half-empty,
unbroken cup.

Lori Fiechter
September 15, 2000

I do not Like Myself Today

I do not like myself today;
I told my self to go away
and not come back
till it’s Ok
to be myself again.
It isn’t safe to be
me now;
I’m inside ugly,
black and snarly,
in my dungeon with
my mirror
that magnifies my
flaws and fears.
No, it’s not safe
to be so near
myself
when I’m this way.
Don’t try to pet the tiger
when she’s hungry.

Lori Fiechter
September 7, 2000

The Test of Time

What can stand
the test of time?
Yesterday’s bestsellers
are tomorrow’s
bargain books.
Last year’s computer chip—
the fastest ever made—
is a dinosaur today.
Technology and fashion
are changing all the time.
And classics aren’t apparent
until the author’s died.

Bonnet Bees

We each have a bee
in our bonnet
we cannot
see or feel;
a peculiar obsession
or blind spot
we don’t believe
is real.
We may be right
and logical
on one hundred different points,
But that bee makes us crazy,
our thinking grows hazy;
On point 101,
our mind is undone.
Our thinking is way
out of joint.
But we won't swat
that bee in our bonnet.

Lori Fiechter
September 7, 2000

I was thinking today about the word "iota" and wondered if it was the same as Jesus's "jot" (Hebrew yod) as in "not one jot or tittle". What do you know, it is. Of course there is no real plural for iota (not for whit, either, for that matter, but I didn't let that stop me.)

Iotas and Whits

Not an iota—
that is, not a jot.
You think that I care;
I say, I care not.
Not a speck or
a smidgen;
Not a weasely whit;
I don’t care what she said
about me,
not a bit.
…But if you keep talking,
I’ll listen.

Lori Fiechter
August 26, 2000

Was it when I was watching the Olympic gymnastic tryout? Or Tiger Woods? The thought came to me that only someone who really understands how hard it is to be so very good (by being decently talented himself, perhaps) can really appreciate genius. In any field. I think it takes a poet, for instant, to give the best praise to another poet. Or as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle put it:
"Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius."

You made it look so effortless;
I tried it and fell flat.
I admired you before;
I now admire you much more.
And yet, I’ll never be
good enough
to know how good
you really are.

Lori Fiechter
August 26, 2000

Funny how the word "change" can be both positive and negative.

To Change or not to Change

We each have made two lists
in our subconscious minds,
if not on paper.
The column headings read:
Things that should be changed;
Things that shouldn’t be.
There are rules we would relax
and rules we would strictly enforce,
Laws we think should be strict,
and laws that should be lenient.
We have traditions we cherish and
traditions we disdain;
Castles we would tear down and
castles we would restore.
Our lists are all different,
Some are weighted toward change,
some toward the status quo.
No one on earth has the wisdom
to put every item in its
proper column.
But many of us think
we could handle the job.

Reaping Scorn

He’s always
speaking ill of others
with a smile and
a smirk;
All-knowing,
smug, and smarmy,
though he tries to be disarming;
He thinks himself
perceptive--
above all the
little jerks.
He’s a big one,
but he’s harmless,
He cannot really hurt you;
And the scorn he kindly heaps
is the scorn he also reaps.

Lori Fiechter
August 2, 2000

Male Mosquitoes and other Pests

He’s annoying,
but quite harmless;
He’s a buzzing,
male mosquito,
incapable of bite;
He is more mouth
than might.

Lori Fiechter
August 2, 2000

It wasn’t until I defrosted the freezer the other day that I realized I still had three Thanksgiving turkeys in the freezer. I roasted the smallest one. The others are still sitting atop the jars of applesauce and pie cherries.

They sounded so good
in October;
I bought three and
stored them away.
They've been rooming
all winter with the
ice cream and peas
but now it's July
and I can't remember why
I had to buy THREE--
why, they were practically free--
Yes, I had to buy three
monstrous turkeys.

Lori Fiechter
July 17, 2000

Mosquitoes in the Garden

While I’m picking beans,
they’re picking on me;
they set up an ambush
near the end of the row three.
I’m picking with my right hand
and swatting with the left;
Dropping beans in the dirt,
Wondering why mosquitoes lurk
in my garden.
There’s no blood in the bean patch
Until I walk in;
I’m appetizer and entree
for all bloodthirsty kin;
They eat fast and bite hard;
I’m scratching again.

Lori Fiechter
July 17, 2000

Green Beans go Snap

Snipping and snapping,
fresh bean juice is smacking
my legs.
The pods stick like Velcro
all over my shirt
and my fingernails
look like green dirt.
Green beans go snap;
green beans never nap;
They keep growing
and growing
like bushes exploding
new fingers each day.
Green beans, go away.
Lori Fiechter
July 16, 2000

My Bananas have Freckles

My bananas have freckles
that sprouted while I watched;
Their once creamy skins
are all blemished and blotched.
I kept them indoors
away from the sun
But somehow their skins
still got overrun
with those
shrunken brown spots,
dull polka dots,
and they’re still sprouting lots
and lots more.
…Too soon they turned
from ripened to rotten;
My poor, squishy, freckled bananas.
(Oh, no! Here come the fruit flies.)

Lori Fiechter
July 16, 2000

I lost my confidence one day;
felt it ebb and drain away.
Couldn’t stop it;
sat and watched it
skipping lightly
toward that cliff;
plunging down to the abyss.
Couldn’t catch it
quite in time;
And now, I fear what
I will find:
shattered shards
in myriad pieces
bits of wool
but no whole fleeces.
Sometimes it runs,
sometimes it stays to
crack and leak or melt away.
Sometimes, it comes back
on its own,
wagging tail and all.
But I’m not hopeful this time;
it took a dreadful fall.