Tag: Poetry

Summit

Devils and dictators
Always smiling
Joyous as crows

at day’s dawn
surveying
rows and rows
of sweet corn

Sweet tender corn
standing tall and straight
not anticipating
the harvest
that awaits

Devils and dictators
Always smiling
Joyous as crows

Smiling

Because they know

Think, Think, Think!

Pen to paper
Simple strokes
down and
up and
around
amounting to
nothing profound
and the sun
will soon
slide below
the horizon
wanting no part
of my mind’s
ponderous
pondering

For that
we have
the moon,
and thunder
in the night,
and great horned owls
in deadly, silent flight
or as Pooh
might opine,
“Oh, bother”

Out-of-Season

Four leaves were shed
lazily
in front of me
as I made my way to
Front Royal
today
but they
were all wrong
these leaves

did not tumble
as dust from summer’s
broad shouldered
shrugs
rather
they spiraled,
pirouetted
in the gentle
dance of death
that belongs
to Fall
alone
and I was
undone
by this
brazen
display of
misplaced
melancholy
arriving
not quite a
fortnight
into July
on this
long drive
and my heart
skipped,
gasped,
grasped
at that
missing thing
I can never
define
as the miles
ticked by

Cirque du Seed and Sweat

Safflower found in the rolled up cuff of my too long jeans Odd pieces in odd corners through the kitchen and family room and one stuck to the dog’s belly Safflower sprouting under the steps Finches flinging and slinging safflower in all directions while doves dart across the deck to gather this manna from heaven and paranoid schizophrenic cardinals flit in and out in a perpetual state of “Oh shit! What was that!” and the bombastic bully blue jay appears occasionally and they all skedaddle for safety and it’s hot – damn hot

Invitation

Walk with me along the blackthorn path
though narrow it is with arms that slash and prick.
Tempted you will be to turn back from their wrath
yet persevere! Peonies are there to perfume the picnic!

Fine food have I fixed
and there are candlesticks!
Nothing has been spared
and

in its naivete

my heart has dared
to proclaim my love
for you there

Summer’s Distillate

This heat
a ubiquitous
infusion
leaching
into my
epidermis like
auburn and smoke
from well-charred
oak
bourbon
barrels

I’m squeezed out tween my staves

Rising above
rows of casks

Essence now air

My steamy vapor
a mingling prayer

I am made holy –
the angel’s share

Bob Dylan Moon

I was watching
Scorcese’s
No Direction Home
about Bob Dylan
who I never really
cared for but
what the hell
I thought
Then I saw the
outline of the
palladium window
glowing on the wall
and said out loud
it must be a
full moon
so I went out
on the deck
and there was a
full moon
What this has
to do with
Bob Dylan
I don’t know
maybe

Bob Dylan
is the
full moon
shining through
palladium windows
but I doubt it
He just stepped
on a raw nerve
at the right time
dreaming he was
Woody Guthrie
under a
full moon

Bouquet

The devil is obsequious
in his garden

A green thumb for
black blooming
uncertainty
rooting
rising
stinking
gnawing
in man’s
fertile gut
and it’s always
in season

Hell is confusion –
that’s not
what you heard?

Are you sure?

No need to die
to arrive

Putrid new doubts
delivered
daily

It Rained All Day

There’s no point
that’s the gist
Smoke a joint
Make a fist

I’ve done one
skipped the former
Bloody knuckles run
red wine feels warmer

My dreams I find
on sun-drenched waves
A trick of the mind
It’s rained all day

There’s nothing for it
just lines that rhyme
from a poor, bored poet
and a glass of wine