Wednesday, February 29, 2012
He's mild mannered...
He's a natty dresser...
He's a doctor...
He's not a short little guy...
He doesn't comb his hair to one side...
He doesn't have that same funny looking mustache...
He wouldn't ordinarily strike you as a madman...
THE WORLD ISN'T DOING A DAMN THING ABOUT HIM...
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
d'Verse Poets Pub Poetry Potluck
You, my fantasy island
by the seashore,
by the madness.
You're not from around here--
the planet, I mean.
You, the mystery of mythic proportions--
like trying to decipher the lyrics to "Chasing Pavements."
You call to me on a super high frequency
that only dogs and angels can hear,
and I hasten to your side
just to let you take me for a ride.
And yes, cowboys do still exist,
but you've decided to give in to me
only on certain patriotic holidays and February 29th.
And you think of compromise
the way a field of daisies is compromised
by a free-standing outhouse--
our conversations a verbal game of paddle ball.
If I hold your comments to the light
will I see a validating watermark?
And what kind of woman sees that I am falling for her,
and all she can do is stand back and yell TIMBERRRR???
Yes, I am easy to manipulate--blindly optimistic,
as when Noah said: Yes, but we could sure use the rain.
The hapless grin that indicates an alarming loss of brain cells.
But there are penalties for scofflaws like you
who break the rules of love while smiling so sweetly.
Ooh...don't kiss me now...
who knows where those lips have been?
Sooner or later we must choose
to embrace life, or hold it at arms length,
now and then giving into wild abandon.
But you say if we dance naked in the rain
who will do our choreography?
Romance is poetry
one day the heavens will part
and love will prevail...
May I have this samba?
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
we can't walk home
a girl was making a fire
people were stamping their feetall I could see was a swirling grey mist
the storm is still raging
a sort of gypsy looking woman
who always wore the same puke-green pea coat
she was adamant
she expected me to make a decision
but you can't sleep with things like that
she left alone that night
so I didn't get to her before she died
but it set me to thinking
after she'd gone
that no one I'd ever made love to
had croaked yet
far as I knew
still living their lives
with some nameless face
or faceless name
they're dead to me
i stepped into the misty haze
i turned to see Noah's Ark
standing in my path...
extending me safe harbor?
it is a crime to take your own life
and sometimes a tragedy not to
bad manners to joke about a thing like that
i turned away from the vision
i lifted my face to the sky
blue lights flickered from overhead wires
i knew that it was dangerous
i closed my eyes
the best kind of oblivion
i saw the sunrise and the sea
i tasted the rain
i saw the passage of all my empty days
i almost forgot that i was running
Author Note: One Night In The Rain is not derived from any actual incident. The narrator is a character. But as every writer knows, there is a little of ourselves in each of our characters. .
Linking up to d'verse Poets Pub
Monday, February 13, 2012
Her voice soared to the heights
is easy to achieve
Her mind plummeted to the depths
Learning to love yourself
And in between--the wasteland
is the greatest love of all...
Thursday, February 9, 2012
the goddam cat
pissed on my pillow
'cause I wouldn't give him
an extra tablespoon of
his favorite canned food
I was trying to draw the line
because I was typing in a poem
and he walked across the keyboard
and then SAT on it
like he always does
he knows I can't get anything done
till I get up and feed
don't know what happened
to that other poem
after I lost my train of thought
so instead you've got this one
thank the little pisser for that
cunningest cat I ever seen...
and one of the fattest
I gotta do some laundry