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Desultory...Is The Plan

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I’ve enjoyed writing for many years. I'm dedicating more time to the craft in my retirement days.




marked by lack of definite plan, regularity, or purpose


Here’s the best word
I think I’ve heard
To describe my
Weekly work tries

Efforts to map
My daily haps
My strategy:

Ten-dollar term
It means no berm
And no rails, too
It’s what I do

Tries to compose
Poems and prose
They’re hit and miss
A bit like this

Ever tried to rhyme
Four beats per line?
No more no less
A chocolate mess

To bare the crux:
Takes more than luck
Takes syll’ble skills
And practice drills

Daily routine
Eating poutine
Like Canada
Let’s go there, bruh

Oh wait, my friend
I erred again
That’s Hawaii
And Waikiki

Not Great White North
This back and forth
Koo roo koo koo
With me and you

Is why I said
Best word I read
That can explain
The crashing train

Of a day’s plan
Is one of those
Departure woes

No strategy
Moving so fast
Changing the cast

Of characters
Will long be drawn
For right or wrong

For us to rue
Like I oft do
On days I think
Oh, teeth please sink

Into something
With a nice ring
They’ll want to read
And maybe heed

Look a squirrel!
Willie and Merle
Pancho, Lefty
Song so hefty

It’s on my mind
Not all the time
But still a bunch
I’ve got a hunch

You’d like it too
But might feel blue
When the song’s done
Lefty still runs

In Ohio
Tough way to go
Killing a man
With your own hand

Not just a rant
’Twas Townes Van Zandt
Who penned the song
You’ll sing along

Attempt, assay
Go right away
I’ll wait right here
No need to fear

Pancho and Lefty

Gordon and me
Lightfoot, you see
Just came to mind
Stop and rewind

Small group of friends
Suddenly ends
A cheating song
I’ll sing along

Waiting for you
Not fine to do
Things I can’t see
Doing to me

The Circle is Small

That’s how it is
Aw, man, gee whiz
A heart breaker
A dream maker

All right for some
But not this one
And now I whirl
Where’s that squirrel?

(S)he was just here
Chirped in my ear
Said the best word
I think I’ve heard

To describe my
Daily work try
It has to be:

A Simple Desultory Philippic (or How I Was Robert McNamara'd into Submission)

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