soaring on thermals
raptor rising to the sun
defies gravity
A place for poems and pics
soaring on thermals
raptor rising to the sun
defies gravity
you think i don’t see you
– but i do
peering out your window
with that hangdog expression
expecting me to feel
sorry for you- to share everything
i have but you give nothing
in return – not contrite when my
bowl is found empty, a hint of
cat food on your breath
groveling for attention
tail wagging shamelessly
have you no pride, no dignity
oh canine, my neighbor,
my friend
it seemed a good idea – put it in writing
and now the letter was held gingerly
in her quivering hands
sitting across from the mailbox
trying to imagine being elsewhere
in a tea shop or trying on shoes
she could get up, walk away
tuck the missive in an old book or
inside the jacket of a vinyl record album
she could run to the nearest trash
can and drop it there –
or she could open the
mail slot
and end the
misery
forever
(word list – idea, sitting, book, hands, letter, mailbox, shop, records, way, walk, run, elsewhere)
I took what she had to give –
this old mother covered with a
worn black shawl
The hand that held the
bottle was gnarled
like an ancient tree branch
– a simple potion of bark and ashes
She promised that one sip would
cause love to flow – passion to
burn like fire
I did not sip
I’ll leave future
to fate
A summer night with stars
and fireflies trying to
outsparkle one another
I inhale deeply the
odor of burning logs and
sounds of singing around
the campfire transports me
to a different time when
a shy six year old spent
her first week at camp
Her mother packed matching
short sets and tennis shoes
The old brown suitcase held
everything on the ‘bring to camp’
list, towels, toothbrush, flaslight,
postcards to write home, stamps
During the days she laughed and swam,
played 4 square and sang Kumbaya
But at night when only the
crickets and owls were awake
she cried silent, homesick tears
I reach up and feel wet tracks
on my cheeks – crying for a little
girl gone away
The poet rested his head atop
the empty page surrounded
by shards of words
The petals of his mind
folded in sleep
Voices of long dead
muses whispered in his
unhearing ear
Morpheus and the Sandman
danced across the void
of his consciousness while
the music of sages played on
When the quietus of night
fell upon him he rose
up to find profound scribbles
had appeared where blankness
had prevailed
Whose words they were
he did not know