Category Archives: Poems

Timing

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Several days ago, I discovered a fly in the bottom freezer drawer,
-dead from cold- beneath the packaged, leftover gumbo made with a roux, the kind that must be stirred slowly – simmering on low heat- so that it does not burn.
***
Claudia crossed her hands as she spoke of her upcoming schedule, the dangers of narcissism,
and the joy of creative moments -her blue eyes betrayed an infatuation with cleverness- and later she cast her burdens on a subscription magazine and a glass of pinot grigio.
***
Further on that day at the convenience store, after receiving change -76 cents- for the purchase of his lemon-flavored tea and Marlboros, an un-named driver whistled a Meredith Willson tune -to mark his time in the parade of customers- turned and walked out

clearing before the door shut.

pub song

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is it already time in sparity
for tomorrow’s song, conspiring
just past a moment’s caesura beshinding
and a quaver in triplets sequiling?

staccato, legato, and elluish garnishes,
reveling beats and cantabile varnishes,
capriccio encores, as slathibirs and borespors,
such singing will leave you reciting
the extrons and motile warblings
of pub-songs, warm and inviting.

and when you are done with the chorusing
of colly-woos and the hollo-joy-cholla,
drink a toast to the wencesial spirit, of course,
and say a prayer from the wells of your golla.

Learning to walk

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with small hands wrapped around
a father’s thumbs,
looking out onto a horizon
of -things-
yet undefined to a young mind
move to the edges
sounds and things,
as destinations.

Mommy claps.

Just yesterday, you would have lunged
on all fours,
but today you took that step
upright,
foot slung forward
slightly sideways,
and unsure of the placement of it.

Daddy holds on,

as a stride begets another,

and wanting to drop to the floor
you hang on to the moment
and balance
to repeat what you have learned.

Tomorrow, you run.

Blues under the wheelbarrow

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The white chicken
longs for

her li’l red rooster,
and cries

pooling tears
-same as the rain water-

on the barnyard floor
for a day.

***************
Inspired by William Carlos Williams poem XXII (The Red Wheelbarrow) and The Little Red Rooster, a blues standard, recorded by Howling Wolf.

A thanks to the good folks at WordPress for selecting my blog for Freshly Pressed feature and thanks to all who have dropped in via “Freshly Pressed.” I hope you like the poetry. Please feel free to visit often and comment.

Three wishes

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To each of you, I wish the night
the darkness specked with pinpoint lights
creating shapes, elusive lines
drawn to what your mind defines
and wraps in warmth, all comfort due,
I wish the night to each of you.

To each of you, I wish the day
to dream of what your heart can say;
Equal dose of sun and cloud
to laugh and cry and sing aloud
the songs that ring to us as true,
I wish the day to each of you.

To each of you, I wish the dawn,
a new-found joy on lake or lawn
to greet you as a golden sight
after every day and night.
In new beginnings, each one cue
the night, the day, the dawn for you.

NaPoWriMo 2013 Day 30
And it comes to an end. This is my 4th time to participate in National Poetry Writing Month, but only my second time to successfully complete the 30 days. Thanks to all who visited, commented, and liked various poems. I think I’m going to take a little break and just lurk and read for awhile. I’ll be back sometime…later.

untold

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forever, relentless
late amid a lemniscate,
the space between the lines
ever rending – surrounded
by the never ending,
closed in a space
where moonlight
skews with sunbeam queues.
banners flying underneath
the breathing of the winds bequeath
a conquest perpetually given
and in few words, love’s recognition.

NaPoWriMo 2013 Day 29