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The pattern2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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A Haiga for Marten3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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Winter BluesI went down to the orchardWinter Blues1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
and I shook the apple tree.
I went down to the orchard
and I shook the apple tree.
But it was the dead of winter,
no fruit came down for me.
I remember when the winter
would come and it would go.
I remember when the winter
would come and it would go.
But it hangs around my house now,
like it does not have a home.
No bare feet in the daytime,
no kind word on the street.
No bare feet in the daytime,
no kind word on the street.
I exchange those chilly glances
with everyone I meet.
Could I even face the springtime
if it should come one day?
Could I even face the springtime
if it sh
Your Song"So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do" -Your Song2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I never forgot hearing that in the operating room
before the surgery on my fractured hip socket
when I was twenty-nine. My eight-month old son
cried at the sight of me when my wife brought him
to the hospital; my face was cut and sutured
and there were bits of windshield glass in my skin.
Today he is almost twenty-nine and I sit
beside him in an orthopedic surgeon's waiting room,
his ankle in a cast, his crutches on the chair arm.
Surgery was a week ago. The trauma was from
a basketball game rather than a car crash,
and to an Achilles tendon rather than a hip. His wife
is away s
Un PoemeUn Poeme1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A face poem
A poem face
Poem a face
Face a poem
At the Ritz PlayhouseAt the Ritz Playhouse1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Something is going to happen, though the theater
is not like the picture. The velvet seats are tired,
and torn in a place or two. The nose says mildew
and everything says age. Yet there is a stage.
There is a curtain and something will happen
when it rises. We know more or less what we will see:
a few men and women, some of whose daily roles
are insurance agent, lawyer, speech therapist,
will act in a play the insurance agent directed.
Sometimes the play is tired. It will not be new.
Yet all will do their best, and together they
will make something happen. Some have done so
for thirty-nine years. We do not expect
to be trans
Political BluesThe lesser of two evilsPolitical Blues1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
is what we're told to choose.
Too much evil, not enough lesser
is giving me the blues.
Burning House Anniversary BluesHave you ever seen that house, babe,Burning House Anniversary Blues1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
on the outskirts of town?
Have you ever seen that house, babe,
on the outskirts of town?
It's been on fire for years,
but it never burns down.
You see people with their shoes off
standing close to the flame.
Yes, people take their shoes off
and get close to the flame.
They say a voice from the fire
was calling them by name.
And some depart in a hurry
and some leave walking slow.
Oh, some depart in a hurry
and some leave walking slow.
But they never come back,
either way that they go.
Well, it's your voice for me, babe,
that's what I want to hear.
It is your voice for me, babe,
that's what I want to hear.
When I'm having a nightmare,
it can quiet my fear.
And our love keeps on burning,
with a flame old and new.
Yes, our love keeps on burning,
with a flame old and new.
I want to take off my shoes, babe,
and be next to you.
blur3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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I held the roseI held the rose2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I held the rose and then I heard it ring.
I put it to my ear to take the call.
The bloom was soft but then I felt a thorn.
I'm sure there is a scratch and maybe blood.
Is this how roses are supposed to work?
Roses!
Wild Place BluesThe place I live is wild, babe,Wild Place Blues2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
and that is not just talk.
There are rattlesnakes in the bushes,
so be careful where you walk.
The place I live is wild, babe,
the dreams are ten feet tall.
They carry you just like a child,
if you can sleep at all.
The place I live is wild, babe,
there are poets on the street.
You may hear things never heard before
from anyone you meet.
The place I live is wild, babe,
no map can show the way.
But I will tell you if you ask me,
and you could come today.
You say your heart is wild, babe,
you don't know what to do.
Well, I think the place I'm living
might be just the place for you.
Honey Bee BluesHoney Bee Blues2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Sometimes I wish I was a beetle
and I had a chitin shell.
Oh yes, I wish I was a beetle
and I had a chitin shell.
Then I would not even feel it
when you did not treat me well.
Sometimes I am a moth, babe,
flying toward a flame.
Sometimes I am a moth, babe,
flying toward a flame.
This cannot have a happy ending,
but I keep flying just the same.
Sometimes I am a hornet,
if you crowd me I will sting.
That's right, I am a hornet,
if you crowd me I will sting.
You'll be sorry, you'll discover
there is more to me than wings.
Let's get together, baby,
and we'll be two honey bees.
Let's get together, baby,
and we'll be t
Getting Worse BluesI was broke when I met you, baby,Getting Worse Blues2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
and now I'm deep in debt.
I was broke when I met you, baby,
and now I'm deep in debt.
They say love is full of riches
but I haven't seen them yet.
I was tired when I met you, baby,
and now I'm tireder still.
I was tired when I met you, baby,
and now I'm tireder still.
To get up in the morning
takes a great force of will.
I was sorry when I met you, baby,
and I am sorrier now.
I was sorry when I met you, baby,
and I am sorrier now.
I don't think this love is working
like it should somehow.
Lying Baby BluesShe lied when she told meLying Baby Blues2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
she was feeling fine,
she lied when she told me
she was truly mine.
She lied when she told me
I could have a piece of pie,
she lied when she told me
she would never make me cry.
Well my baby is a liar,
she never plays it square.
But I'm crazy about my baby,
so I'm not sure I care.
She lied when she told me
to trust in what would be,
she lied when she told me
there were peaches on the tree.
She lied when she told me
she would take me on a trip,
she lied when she told me
the flood was just a drip.
Well my baby is a liar,
she never plays it square.
But I'm crazy about my baby,
so I'm not sure I ca
LullabiesLullabies1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I taught my tongue so many things -
I taught it lullabies.
I sang them softly to my sons,
until they closed their eyes.
I sang them for the wakeful world
and it raved on and on.
It would not rest, it did not heed
the song upon my tongue.
I sang them to my troubles then,
my own, so very near,
and when they fell asleep I saw
how sweet their faces were.
My sons awoke, the world raved on,
my troubles stirred and coughed.
"Sleep on a while," I softly said,
and sang again so soft.
A mirrorA mirror5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have a mirror that shows another face.
I have a face that asks to hear a song.
I have a song with room for light.
I have light that is the red inside every color.
I have a color that is waiting for its name.
I have a name that means tenderness.
I have tenderness caught in a mirror.
FallFall2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Something fell. How could a sound so loud
have been a dream? Yet how could a sound
so loud have left a silence thick as this?
There is so little sound you might be deaf.
You say, "hello," softly, to the dark.
You hear your voice clearly through the air.
The lighted clock says four A.M.
Did something fall? It could have been a dream.
It may have been the picture in the hall.
Why did you hang it with a single nail?
Or was it something not so near as that,
whose size and mass you cannot say?
Was it here in the city, a block away,
a mile? There would be sirens, surely.
Or was it something both near and far -
did a world slip dow
Water MusicWater Music2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It begins without a word - water music.
There will be singing, there will be a song.
But it begins with breath held in - water music.
It begins with stillness and with form.
A partial face, a single hand - water music.
One wish - to hide; another - to be known.
The red of lips, the green of leaf - water music.
To hide this way is not to be alone.
The image of a moment - water music.
Then it passes and a breath is drawn.
An artist makes an image - water music.
And a poet sees and makes a song.
In the heartIn the heart2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the heart, doubts
In the doubts, a small room
In the small room, a table
On the table, a map being soaked by rain
On the table
In the small room
In the doubts
In the heart
Three A.M.Three A.M.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You sit in the saddle as you were taught.
Sleep is beneath you, still as a statue.
The reins are loose in your hands. You squeeze
with your legs as you should, below the knees.
Sleep does not move.You cluck with your tongue.
"Walk," you say clearly. "Walk." Sleep does not.
You sit in the saddle as you were taught.
You hold the reins, you kick with both heels.
Sleep does not move. You sit in the saddle.
Where is that crop? Your feet leave the stirrups.
You dismount and stand close beside Sleep.
You look into its wide eye, then step back.
Sleep gallops off. You have to laugh.
I am so brittleI am so brittle1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am so brittle I could crack
and fall in pieces at your feet.
Sweep me off into the corner -
all I want to do is sleep.
I am so hollow I could melt
into a smaller puddle than
you might expect to see.
No need to step on me -
I only want to sleep.
Is there a code I have to crack,
is there a solid I should melt?
Give me the key and raise the heat -
let me sleep!
haiku3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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Barbed Wire BalladBarbed Wire Ballad2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bring more barbed wire. Bring the heavy rolls
of twisted steel and metal thorns. Wear
heavy gloves, unspool the wire from the roll,
make loops atop the wall. Bring more.
Bring more barbed wire. Here are metal stakes
on which it may be hung. Go on and on.
Here is a wire cutter for when we are done,
but that will not be soon. Bring more.
Bring more barbed wire. Here are people
to keep out, there are people to confine,
here a place to make secure, here we are
on our side, thank God. Bring more.
Here are people, there are people,
here a border, here a barrier,
here are places, here are people,
here a wall and here the
ode to cruelty2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry
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Sta.sh
