Skewed Cyclopean With Doppelganger

Polyphemus, my good man— 

Had you but two 

 

Good eyes instead of one 

Skewered one, one 

 

Fine day you might well 

Find yourself standing 

 

Before a looking-glass looking 

At yourself like No Man 

 

Ever did without 

Ever once seeing double, 

 

But I wouldn't 

Bet my eye-teeth on it.

 

Beginning Of A Thought Truncated By The Arrival Of A Sparrow

There is ample reason. . . .why 

This train of thought was 

Derailed before it could 

Reach wherever it was 

 

Going is anybody’s 

Guess but who’s 

 

To say the arrival of this 

Flighty interloper does not 

Signal a necessary 

Deviation from the norm, 

(Whatever norm means in this 

Day and age). 

 

In the meantime, if I choose 

To bask in the knowledge 

That observing this twittering 

Bird on the edge 

Of a myrtle branch so 

It can better reach those pungent, 

Bittersweet berries is a balm 

To my balanced but at times still

 

Tottering soul, who’s to say 

"You are wrong in thinking so."

 

 

 

Lasting Stillborn Issue

Keep producing 

Shorter and shorter poems 

Devoid of any feeling 

 

And before you know it, 

You’ll find yourself standing 

In front of a maternity ward window 

 

With nothing to show for it 

Save longer and longer 

Pregnant silences.

 

 

Say What?

There’s always more 

To be said once 

 

You say it so you can 

Say it again. 

 

 

 

Long-winded Poet Running Out Of Steam?

From where I’m sitting, here

In the boondocks

 

Of the southern Peloponnese 

And nowhere

 

Near the grandstands, you still look to be 

Definitely in it for the long run, so why

Are you always so

 

Short of breath?