Welcome to The Blue Funk Café

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Tonight´s reading comes from the works of an unpublished author who tells us her favorite poets are Dorothy Parker and Danté. A bit incongruous, we know, but so very like her! These poems were written in 1987; a time in her life affectionately called her "Snit Period" by those who knew her then. She has since, thankfully, given up poetry and taken up quilting.

Man of my Dreams

If I could conjure up a man
I wonder what he'd be?
Without a doubt, he'd have a tan
From living by the sea.

He'd have a brilliant mind, of course.
A sense of humor, too.
We'd never part without remorse
And sadly bid adieux.

In height, I'd make him six foot two
With shoulders strong and wide.
His eyes would be the deepest blue.
No feelings would they hide.

He'd whisper all the sweetest things
A girl was ever told.
And shower me with golden rings
In courtship wild and bold.

This man I'd make would fill my dreams
And every waking hour.
He'd treat me like a fairy queen.
He'd have me in his power.

And after I'd been wined and dined,
I'd raise my silver cup,
And say goodbye, because, I find,
You just don't measure up!

Mid-Winter Break
Ah, the power of my mind.
It knows what must be done.
How quick it is to see my need.
How easily it's begun.
My body's tired of winter's cold
It longs for summer's sun.
My mind, it spikes my fever up
And warms me from within.

The doctor said, "It's Asian flu."
But as I lie here sneezing,
It know it's just a sneaky way
To get a small vacation.
"Just rest in bed," the kind man said,
"and lots of chicken soup."
That's fine with me. I quite agree.
That's all I'm fit to do.

At work, my desk is gathering
New chores that must be done.
I just can't get my soul to care.
It's mind's another one.
The work will wait, the phone calls, too;
The vacuuming and dusting.
I'm in my bed and I'll not budge
Until this break is through.

My mind is free to wander now
Far off the beaten path
Through thoughts of old and places new.
It needs a little time off too.
It needs to think important things
Like does a flea have fleas
And why, when I close just one eye,
my ceiling always changes.

I cough and sneeze and sip hot tea
And tuck the blankets in.
All aches and pains are safe inside
According to my plan.
I'll take a nap and dream a dream
That I'll have time to watch
Which, when I wake, I'll contemplate.
It's better than your navel.

A day or two; that's all I need
To get my thoughts together.
Then I'll pick up where I left off
In February's weather.

© 1987 DJ James

Please Hear Me
If I can write a word
That you can read,
And I can speak a line
That you can hear,
Why can't I think a thought
And have you know how I feel?

In written word and spoken line
I ramble on for hours.
Words are shallow, empty things
They can't convey my meaning.
My thoughts are full of feelings.
How can I make you see them?

Sure, I could write I love you
And I also hate you, too.
And say to you we had the best,
Though I wish I'd never met you.
But if I did, you'd look at me
Thinking I was crazy.

If you could only crawl inside
You'd understand me better.
You'd see there is no word for love
With hate around the edges
And ecstacy and misery
In between the letters.

© 1987 DJ James

Please remain in your seats while the author leaves the cafe...

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