One morning I vowed never to write another frivolous word

One morning I vowed never to write another frivolous word.
The urgency of life pressed in upon me, the thought
of remaining years or months, like warlords or warriors,
or just plain war, roared at the edge of dawn’s red clouds.

I vowed to God or to anyone listening on forgotten frequencies,
that life was serious and not to be tinged by piffle,
but measured, metered and meted by graphs, and met,
with callipers, tweezers and reverence for wrenches.
That poetry must be put down with hammer and tong,
and that Wagner was the only phrasing fit for the span.

The day was going well until a man in a large leather cowboy hat
approached me and joked that he almost shot me,
mistaking me for a weed inspector,
which of course I was,
and my only response was to quip
of my relief that my last earthly image
was not his fulvous Fu Manchu,
greying ponytail, and hat,
large as a sail.

After that, we talked far into the afternoon
about his love of aliens, lake monsters,
and his collection Sasquatch stories,
and hope of one of day seeing a UFO.


  1. Captivating ironic twist of humor connecting and saving the lives of two firmly resolved individuals!!

  2. So glad you weren’t a target — except for being snared for a long afternoon conversation about frivolous desires.

  3. A gem of a poem. I’ve experienced this same inner command many times, and strangers have saved me from it in similar quirky ways…but none quite so dangerous! Love your writing.

  4. To include piffles and Wagner, to say nothing of large leather cowboy hats and sasquatches all in one short bit of – well – frivolity….carry on, friend, and we’ll continue to delight in the urgencies which create such delight….

  5. Loved the sentiment Steve. As a counsellor, I do very SERIOUS work. I remind myself every once in a while that no one really wants to come and see me, but something serious in their lives has prompted them to think that it might be USEFUL to talk to someone like me. My retort to this train of thought is to remind myself that I’d rather be golfing – wondering if I’d be any good at weed inspecting….

  6. To frivolous writing, to being called to it, saved by it… And to all that it can call us to reflect on, see, and do. To the writerly and readerly joys of it! And to the unexpected encounters that might inspire it. And to UFOs – of course!

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