A Gilligan?

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale,
A tale of a reckless trip
That started from a SoCal port
Aboard a tiny ship.

The mate was a novice sailing mom,
The skipper green but sure.
Three passengers set sail that day
For a three-hour tour, a three-hour tour.

The voyage started nice enough,
But their boat soon got caught.
If not for the wave of a sibling’s bright coat,
The Good Luck would be lost, the Good Luck would be lost.

The ship got stuck off the shore of a Santa Barbara beach
With The Mrs.
The Skipper too,
Their daughter, my sister’s friend,
Yours truly and
Our hero with a windbreaker,
Barely in sightful reach.

Now this is the tale of us stuck at sea;
We were there for a long, long while.
Though we tried to make best of it,
None of us could smile.

The first mate and the Skipper, too,
Would do their very best
To make we others comfortable,
In that knotted kelp forest.

No phone, no flares, no motor’s roar,
No way to reach safety,
Like Gilligan’s venture,
As scary as it can be.

So, heed this tale of risk, my friend,
To dodge a fateful scare.
Before yourself set off to sea,
Make sure that you prepare.

© 1973, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved. (1968)

🎵

Doublespeak

Back in our bedroom,
a language is born,
two voices weaving threads
only we can perceive,
a tapestry of merriment,
whispers, and half-formed memes.

Words dance like fireflies,
flickering in and out,
a secret symphony,
rhythms beating in sync,
their own lexicon,
a realm skirting the rules.

Eyes meet, and the sentences unfold,
unspoken phrases leap between them,
a nod, a grin, a raised eyebrow
and suddenly, the room is alive,
hundreds of meanings shared,
yet artfully concealed.

In this sibling speak,
the mundane becomes magic,
the ordinary transformed—
a simple glance,
a signal with hands,
the echo of an inside joke.

We speak in riddles,
in giggles, in sighs,
painting stories with our breath,
the softest language,
the strongest bond,
each syllable a heartbeat,
each silence an accent.

In the by-play of our connection,
we find the essence of being,
two souls in perfect harmony,
carving our path,
a natural duet,
a world where only we belong.

© 2025, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved. (1960)