Thursday, January 2, 2020

Down In The Dumps And In Need Of A Pick-me-up, I Stumble Upon A Famous Last Line Of A Poem By James Wright

Like so many things 
I’ve sheepishly forgotten, I don’t remember 

Talking to myself when I was too young 
To go to school, like a lot of kids did or still 

Do, like our granddaughter did 
And still does 

When she thinks she's alone and begins 
Reeling off adventure after adventure 

Full of unreal characters known 
Only to her, and me 

Eavesdropping in on the hope 
I can pick up on that priceless, 

Uplifting gem of a germ 
She’s so infected with, 

Though I suspect all too well 
It’s no longer catching— 

Have I wasted my life?


 

Sunday, December 29, 2019

Cogito, Ergo Cogito Sum


Just when you think 
You’ve thought 

Everything through 
And left—as they say— 

No stone unturned
Behind you, guess who 

Turns up unannounced 
And incognito, affecting 

A pronounced stony silence 
And turns everything upside 

Down on his return. 


Friday, December 27, 2019

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Confucius Say Still Not Enough Material Kindling To Make Mankind Great Again


Though no dearth 
Of consumptive homeless 
Hearths flickering on and off,

In dead of winter gathering feeble 
Stacks of splintered hearts 
More than enough 

To consume them.






Monday, December 23, 2019

Besting The Great Equalizer


I don’t know how 
You did it, dude, but 

No more are you 
The fool 

You once were, 
You’re also wiser 

No longer. 


Saturday, December 21, 2019

Thursday, December 19, 2019

A Poem Should Be (18)


Indestructible, lasting almost 
Forever, like that ludicrous 

Prickly pear cactus poking 
Its barbed head of fruit through

The toughest thick slab 
Of concrete, even after being 

Through thick and thin, fire 
And water or, believe it 

Or not, crushed to smithereens 
By crazed bulldozers hell- 

Bent on erasing it 
From the face of the earth 

To make way for some new 
Abominable, transient 

And quite prickless, 
Construction. 

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