Aleta Pippin

Aleta Pippin

It was her gift
to laugh at sadness
to weep over her joys
Maybe she was mis`wired
when passing through
the assembly line
at her creation

Once evening
Papa rambled on
at the family prayers
belaboring the world’s ills
as she came unhinged
Broke up laughing
in raucous glee

But then when
he gave her Twurst
from a German butcher
which to a country`woman
was better than chocolate
she wept and wept
like some widow

I inherited some
of Mama’s confusions
to the distress of my wife
No telling how some sunset
will bring me awful tears
the death of a friend
can make me smile

“I like poems where you don’t really know
whether to laugh or cry when you read them.”

X.J. Kennedy


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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One Response to Confusions

  1. joy and sadness – not so different


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