Tag: Poetry

Smoke and Dust

Huge are the ogres
though dying
promenade boldly
along well trod
pathways
Rutted synapses of
hateful ways
generations made
desirous
to be legend
they hold sway
for a time
but must fade
Smoke and dust
when exposed
by the light

Mr. Editor

He was a spacious fellow
who insisted on
plush
commodious
chairs
and the company of
beggarly poets
whose sallow
coffee shop
wine flush
complexions
and fervent need
for approval
(which they fervently denied!)
proved a great source
of mirth on rainy days
He insisted they refer
to him as “Mr. Editor”

Keyhole

At the keyhole
gibberish
and
poetry
death and life
hostage situation
missed opportunities
attention starved gods and goddesses
closet filled with fugitive hours
so many doors in
this drafty house

The Day’s Tally

I’m tired
So tired
Nightmares
Thrashing
Wired
Drag out of bed
Thirty minutes on the
bike despite it all
Sit with the droll
tax guy
We don’t owe!
A good result
and the moon is
lovely tonight
somewhere
My wine is sweet
Tomorrow is another chance
I reckon I’ll be fine
in time

When It Comes

When the end comes (and the
saved, sign-wearing wife-beater
the Almighty chose as Its
confidante says it’s near)
all that will remain are
roaches and a few winos
too toasted to make the trip
Unfit for heaven
Done been to Hell

Sunrise Supplication

The earth releases
her prayer
unabashedly
as the sunrise
lifts the long
dark night
from the
face of the lake
His kiss creating
an incense of mist
to carry her
supplication
to the heavens
and the birds
Enraptured
Fall silent

Mafioso

I once had an owl fly
directly over my head at
high noon on a bright
July day in the woods
below Chinn Ridge
landing a little
past me
less than gracefully
yet silent despite it
then she turned Mafioso
Glaring intensely
Her eyes clearly saying
whatever I thought I saw
I had best forget quickly
Then she was gone

Robin

There came a robin today
The first I’ve observed
this year
and not a moment too soon
to help expunge the gloom
of this funerary procession
of grey winter days
hopping along the grass
carefree and playful
as if she never left
Singing in that sweet way
that seduces Spring to
come and stay