Monday, January 14, 2019


1943 ~ 2019



What a noise!

Pots that won’t

Fit in a drawer

The Lifetime

What does a writer do all day?

She or he writes

Some are successful

Most are not

Even if a book or books are published

Many millions of books go by the wayside

So now what is the writer but someone who writes and fails

Books are forgotten or no books are published at all

Years and even a lifetime could be wasted

Something else is accomplished

One becomes a sales clerk

While still writing at odd hours

The writing goes nowhere

But the sales clerk is very popular

People leave you very happy, bag in hand

You try to write a book about a sales clerk

No one cares

They’d rather you be the sales clerk

Who sells caramel candy

Because you are beautiful

Someone goes home and melts

That caramel in their mouth and

Smears the caramel across

Their teeth and lips

Thinking of you

Cabin Life

On the coldest day of winter

25 below

just to get-by

and it’s all about just getting-by

we took the two largest empty potato chip bags

in the house and fit them over our heads

making us

two feet-taller

scaring all

our cats

The Muse

I can’t get anything done

until she is out of my hair!

her eyes are that blue

her hair goes with the sun

the flash of her flowered dress in the air

and even when she is away

only momentarily, an errand to town

I’m thinking now of what I’m missing

here where I work in a woods ditch with shovel

laying in stone stairs which may as well be to the sea

since she’ll visit on her return and I’m grubby and

she steps lightly down each new step before anyone

saying how lovely it all is and all is fine


Bob Arnold
Heaven Lake

Longhouse 2018