Tuesday, September 28, 2021

Crowing In Absentia

What if I told you the late 
Afternoon skies were full of fright, 
Full scudding black cawing 
Clouds, the people below slowly 
Turning ashen—what shade 
Of grey would you be 
Decked out in tonight? 
 
 

 

Saturday, September 25, 2021

Daily Litany

So that that old 
Orb the sun may sink to his knees 
In the end and share 
 
In our humility, poems are 
Offered in turn—who is it now
That hasn’t a prayer?

 

Saturday, September 18, 2021

Unwavering Line Of Defense

What I have made 
Of myself, let others offer 
 
Judgement commensurate 
With the facts— 
 
All I can do in return is what 
I do best—demur. 
 
 
 

 

Thursday, September 16, 2021

Revelations Of A Third Kind

Certain entities always 
Reveal themselves 
And make us feel right— 
 
Others prefer keeping to 
Dark, out-of-the-way places, 
And under certain circumstances, 
 
This too is all right— 
What’s wrong is never knowing 
When all that’s wrong appears 
 
To be dead right.

 

Monday, September 13, 2021

Writing Prompt Found Wanting

Start writing right off 
About a vivid childhood
 
Memory, don’t break 
Your lines or punctuate 
 
For at least five lines and see 
What happens; repeat 
 
One phrase at least 
Three times; continue writing 
 
To wherever the memory might 
Lead you, keeping in mind 
 
You may have to 
Do this several times before 
 
You end up writing 
Everything off, going on 
 
To bigger and better things 
Every time. 
 
 

 

Wednesday, September 8, 2021

The Pedestrian Spirit That Moves Us

When the last light 
Of the fire left 
In your eyes goes 
Out the window 
Of your domicile 
Like the proverbial 
Bird in flight, do not dawdle 
 
There in that earthbound 
Hearth of darkness, telling yourself 
You did all you could 
To avoid the worst when 
Deep down you know you were 
At best just one more docile, 
Accommodating guest— 
 
For Christ’s sake, 
You made your own bed, 
Didn’t you? Now, 
Go sleep in it. 
 
 
 

 

Friday, September 3, 2021

Unquenchable One

There are many
Reasons one chooses to write 
 
Poems, though in my book, 
The only one that holds much 
 
Water is the one that’s writ 
On the bottom of a bucket 
 
With a hole in it. 
 
 
 
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