SAY HIS NAME

dVerse Poets Pub

He is heading out

for open road,

 big rig humming.

Thanksgiving morning.

The day is crisp and clear.

He will eat his holiday dinner

at some truck stop,

where his banter with the waitress--

a kindred spirit--

will be about keeping the world running

while the rest of 'em

spend the day gettin' fat and happy.

In a while,

he will put in a call to Janie and the kids.

They'll be over at mom's today.

In their pre-meal prayer,

they will say his name.

And yes, he is thankful.

Hell...lucky to have a job at all

the way things are going.

The road snakes on to somewhere

anywhere

nowhere.

And the holiday travelers

blow past him,

just another obstacle

in the way

on the way

to their overindulgence.

He remembers how,

in the beginning,

he thought this would be

a romantic kind of life.

But as he looks out now,

across the endless expanse,

he is struck by the thought

that it's kinda like

gazing at the moon

in daylight.

THE WINDS OF CHANGE BLEND WITH AUTUMN ZEPHYRS SIGHING (collaborative poem from Sanaa Rizvi and Timoteo)

HE IS CREAM...SHE IS CHEESE...
WHAT A SPECTACULAR COMBINATION!

Sanaa and I began talking a few weeks ago and seemed to really hit it off. We discovered that we share the love of autumn, and so the poem before you quickly began to unfold. We hope you enjoy it and look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments.

When the gales of November come early

I’m a total wreck 

wind knocked out of my sails

but I’ve set a course for 

The Sea Of Tranquility

and I’ll be there 

when that big moon 

sweeps these storms from my heart.

Now these clouds

cold, mean and gray sideways rain

point toward the dark road 

my mind is travelling in,

the bruising of November 

teaches one about existence, its brevity 

I wonder if the moon knows time

and course, as leaves curl in colors of Fall.

There is a melancholy vibe 

this time of year--

I can feel it in the forced gaiety 

beginning to build 

as I swim through the crowd, rudderless,

like a paper boat adrift on the breeze,

and for small moments

I will succumb to the mass hypnosis

With wild berries clinging for support,

I observe the breeze, 

an unseen one act nearly farce

painstakingly scrape to leave a patch of stillness

uncovered for a short while,

my lips are stained with the thought of woe

prevalent

hauling one to a place where light cannot reach.

But I’ve had it with these subterranean homesick blues.

I shall emerge from these depths--

the mole in your midst 

burrowing to the sun.

The world is fraught with overt boogeymen.

They cannot frighten survivors

who’ve been to scarier places in their own minds 

than your sardonic smile could ever intimate. 

Let this be the end 

as air’s imbued with wet leaves and contemplation

is a swirl of mist;

a sliver of dark orange disseminating doldrums.

My faith akin to myriad of stones 

that become the shade of highway that lies 

unruffled behind them-- 

I witness the break of day and run forth to embrace.  

Springs and autumns flash by in an instant.

I make a wish and the universe 

rains its poetry down upon me.

To embrace both the darkness and

the light within us is the way of understanding.

November brings the winds of change.

I stand in the awe-filled silence

waiting to feel its sharp graze against my cheek.

I could watch them a while, this feeling that blends 

with fall foliage

for when struck with the right note of sobriety 

even the most dismal of life’s turns are rendered facile. 

The hour smiles and extends its hand to me,

as rain conjures a delicate pattern 

upon my skin 

and the winds of change blend with autumn zephyrs sighing.