*  Johnny's new tie...................................                     

*   Leaves................................................                                 

*   Ambitions...........................................                               

*  The answering machine......................                      

*   Ode to a Penny...................................                         

 *   Near Miss...........................................

*  The waves............................................

---

Johnny's new tie  ©


Johnny came to work that day, perfectly on time.
He walked the same old corridors, like a silent mime.
Familiar ground, he said to himself, sure don't need a map.
Nothing new today, he thought, just the same old crap.

Being very slow to dress, he had planned his alarm for six.
But dull TV and a very deep sofa had put him in a fix..
Instead of early up that morning, at seven he was late.
He saw his face in the grimy mirror. Jeez, what a state!

A shower, a shave, some smelly stuff. Where the hell are my socks?
In the bathroom, living room, at the bottom of some box?
Underwear another panic. Where did I put my shirt?
Oh damn, he said, there's my pants and the cuffs full of dirt.

Slowly things did come around, milk and corn flakes eaten.
Got to rush, he said to himself, traffic to be beaten!
All systems go, everything ready, guess it's time to fly.
But stop! Wait! Hold on a minute!  I forgot to put on a tie.

Doors flung open, coat hangers searched, but nary a tie in sight.
Anything will do, he thought, the colors don't have to be right.
He thought for a moment, a light went on! To the spare room he went.
There in closet, an unlikely rag, but certainly heaven sent.

50s style? Was it Picasso? Warhol?  Chagall?
Tiny Paisleys and off-centered stripes. Not much good for morale!
Florescent roses that looked like clocks, in a field of pallid blue.
Oh well! What the hell… I guess it will have to do.

End of the corridor and in he went, through the office in the front.
Unsmiling faces, unhappy moods, he often bore the brunt.
Suzy, the receptionist, had nothing at all to say.
Really no need to look, she sensed him on the way.

He leaned upon her counter and harshly cleared his throat.
She turned away and thought to herself: "You stupid silly goat!"
It was then she looked at him and to her great surprise
She had this wondrous old cravat,  right before her eyes.

"Oh", she stuttered," quite a tie, first time I've, ah, seen that style!"
Believing that Suzy thought it nice, Johnny began to smile.
Since he didn't smile that much, Suzy spoke again
"Tell me where you got that thing. Your ties are mostly plain."

Johnny was now convinced that Suzy thought it pretty
But not really wanting to explain, he thought he would be witty.
"Well", he said, "if you must know, it was VERY hard to find.
Around here, at any price, you can not buy this kind."

At that moment Jack came in, he was the mail room guy.
Suzy yelled, "Come over here. Just look at Johnny's tie!
"Well", says Jack, "I'll be damned. That one's kinda cute.
I would imagine that it cost you quite a bunch of loot!"

Helen came to join the gang; she was the office clerk.
What's was going on, she thought, with the one called John the Jerk.
But Jack and Johnny were talking now, which they never did before.
Strange stuff, Helen reckons, so maybe he ain't a bore.

At coffee time the girls would chat and blacken every name.
But now, today, they had decided that Johnny was not the same.
Someone laughed " He's change a bit, perhaps a shade insane!"
Another answered, "Yes! Great stuff! A little less mundane!"

Bazaars, flea markets and fairs, Johnny searched far and wide.
His collection grew and he did too, showing his human side.
He had a trademark, a different look and a brand new smile to match.
Some ladies were even thinking that he might be quite a catch.

So wear it loose or like a noose, it is still a telegraph
Let's em know, right from go, if they're gonna cry or laugh.
Goes to show, you'll never know, that even without a plan
That clothes, I suppose, can sometimes make the man !

---

Leaves  ©


Do they like their own autumn colors?
Or do they know it is a sign that they are dying,
like the quick flush of red in the face
of the man in the next bed
before he sighs for the last time?

Do leaves have feelings
though we see them
at best as future humus,
a varied mix of nitrogen,
potassium and phosphorous
with unknown pH?
 
Do they deliberately try to fall softly
so as not to hurt themselves
while we think they are floating
delicately on a pre-winter wind?

Do leaves understand why we look
at them in the bright distant hills
and talking knowingly of the Group of Seven
and why we are not American, eh,
and at the same time crush leaves
under boots marked "Made in the USA"?

Do they comprehend
why we think them glorious
when they are on trees afar
but a nuisance when close,
causing pain lumbar?

Orange leaves, yellow leaves.
red leaves, dead leaves.
But when do leaves actually die?
When they fall?
Before they fall.?

Or is when the cold in their hearts
keeps the precious sap from rising.
Like in our world where religions,
politicians and businesses
try to keep us, the saps, from rising
so that we too wither quietly away
without a whisper.

---

Ambitions     ©
by Robert Pelley


Allison. 18. Nothing on her plate.
She looks up at the stars and asks what is her fate?
Sleep fitfully. Diet breakfast. Really must stay slim.
Thinking, concentrating, maintaining fighting trim.

Cover Girl. Vanity Fair.  Glamour.  Chatelaine.  Vogue.
She memorized them all.
She gets her monthly dose of sweet illusions
From the drugstore in the mall.

Keeping up with the Jones's was small stuff in her mind
She wanted to be Queen.
In a world of industrious, illustrious nobodies,
She wanted to be Seen.

She borrowed, begged and slept a wallet full of cash.
A friend's "forgotten" credit card was added to her stash.
Aircraft landing. Seat belt off. Standing in the airplane door.
Hollywood at her feet….she couldn't dream of more.

Like many other hopefuls, she split a single room.
Weaving through her highs and lows, Ecstasy and gloom.
She did her time as waitress but was lovely dressed in pink.
And then her ship came in.  Fate gave her the wink.

A bit part, a tiny role, but it was her start.
She knew where she was headed and gave it all her heart.
On the screen - and off, she learned to play the game.
Then one morning she woke up and had become a Name. 

She had a limo, bodyguards. Even courted by a king.
Yes, this was what she wanted. Life was just a fling.
She no longer had to buy the books. She was on the cover.
A strand of hair out of place? PhotoShop did it over.

Then one morning she woke up, a feeling in her gut.
Being a Queen on the silver screen was perhaps just a rut.
Not a pauper's rut, a gilded rut, but a deep rut just the same.
Yes, everybody knew her. But she was really… just a name.

Then one morning she woke up and stared into the mirror.
This not my face, she said, as things became much clearer.
Places, friends she had once known suddenly become dearer.
She looks up at the stars. God, you are much nearer.

Then one morning she did not wake up. And some were very sorry.
Especially the paparazzi, who now had one less story.
At her funeral a hundred cars. On TV her church bell.
But it was just an idle passerby who summed it up so well:

" Funny how so many aimless people
dream of fortune, fashion and fame,
while the stars die to stroll aimlessly
where nobody knows their name."

---

The answering machine   ©
by Robert Pelley



Hi Mom. It's Susan  I’'ve gone to Valery’s
It is just a short walk through the park.
I 'm pretty sure I'll be back before dark.
               
Hi John. This is Alice
I've gone shopping at the mall
Don't think I'll  be back til around nine.
There is some cold chicken for you
and Susan in the fridge. She won’t
be home for supper
But she said she'd be fine,
           
Hi Billy , this your Dad
Sorry, but I'm working late.
If Susan calls, let me know.
I don’t want her to walk
home after dark in the snow.
           
Alice, Alice, this is John
We tried calling some of the stores
but weren't sure where you'd be.
Call this number and
have the nurse page me.

---

An Ode to a Penny   ©     


The lowly penny, not worth very much,
Kept with thumbtacks, paperclips, elastics and such.
For these copper slugs we do not stoop.
What is this infliction that makes pockets droop?

On the back a leaf, on the front some royalty,
Typically Canadian with often mixed loyalty.
Just a simple penny, really "not worth a dime",
Once glistening, now covered with grime.

Awry on the dresser, without rhyme or reason,
Always some there, whatever the season.
Years ago, to children, they gave pleasure and mirth.
But now, say officials, they cost more than they're worth.

At first glance dull, things to ignore.
But what stories might they tell of life, love, or war.
They witnessed kings and culprits, saints and liars.
They have fed hungry babies and been burnt in fires.

What wondrous hands a penny has seen…
Lady's manicured, baby's grasping, mechanic's unclean
To what wondrous places a penny has been
The ghetto's backstreets, high tea with a queen.

Like some ill-omened people, they have been oft thrown around.
Like slaves rounded up, they have been sold by the pound.
Some have a good life, without scrapes or pain.
But others look like they went under a train.

And some have a long life, lasting many a year.
Others, like first lovers, just disappear.
Some day, like old friends, they'll be gone in the night,
Replaced by nickels, or worse, by a byte.

"Who cares", people think. "No need for a fuss".
But we have met the penny and the penny is us.

---

 Near Miss   ©


He broke off a branch, iced, speckled with sun, and carefully brushed the snow off his gun.
The moose nibbled on a low-lying spruce and hungrily tasted its woodsy juice.
The hunter used his glasses to scan the scene, looking for signs where a moose might have been.
The moose listened, his eyes glancing, and then still, his ears dancing.

To the young hunter, very proud, the whispers of winter seemed very loud.
Snow falling off trees, a squirrel's chatter, all sounded like things that matter.
But the moose, alert and woods wise, counted on more than just ears and eyes.
He sensed a danger that was very near, though its direction was not yet clear.

The man felt frozen right to the ground, but dared not move, making no sound.
But the shivers he felt were not from the cold but a hunter's sensation, from times very old.
The moose moved slowly, his antlers low, instinctively insuring that nothing would show.
A couple of steps. Long moments of wait. Silent movement. Not risking his fate.

The hunter thought that he heard a sound, a slight compacting of snow on the ground.
He adjusted the gun strap and made it tight.  The sound seemed to come from off to his right.
The moose stopped short and froze where he was, he didn't know why, just because.
Something not right, felling queasy. A noise or a smell that made him uneasy.

An anxious look at the sky, a now darker gray. Darkness would soon make him call it a day.
He pulled back his hood and cupped his ears. The cold was bringing his eyes to tears.
Mercury falling, wind shifting direction. The moose was now getting a different perception.
The young hunter, a gentleman they say, had used a very nice fragrance that day.
The moose knew well the smells of the wood and he knew even more that this was not good.
Gun oil and perfume made him tense. He eased back slowly to the wood more dense.

The hunter waits about ten minutes more. He thought he heard noises but was not really sure.
He put up his hood and picked up his gun. Too bad, he thinks, my day is done.

And neither knew how close they had come.

---

The waves   ©
by Robert Pelley


The waves,
foaming at the mouth,
spit and spattered upon the rocks,
standing stoic and silent
like sentinels before the doors
of a citadel.
 
But sentinels,
even the most stalwart,
one day
must give way.
 
Death may sneak upon them
or may grab them by the throat.
But the ocean endures
and is enduring,
protecting the planet
from those who hide
behind the citadel's walls.

---