Driftwood – A Poem by Nancy May
pieces of driftwood
answer questions
blowing out candles
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All through Mind – A Poem by JD DeHart
You can start at the memories
Of putting on your dad’s shirts
Pretending to be a detective
Because they were trench coat long
Then you can fast forward
To the pushing and shoving second grade
Boys’ restroom, nestled in the valley
The tractor mailbox on the way to high school
The long pacing telephone conversations
With a girl you never wanted to date
The gradual understanding that you were different
Somehow, not sure really, but just subtle variance.
I Am Dying India Dying – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
I am dying India dying
give me some poison
and let me live a little
bite the dog
kill the moon
eat the sun
wallop the wind
hound out people
I am dying India dying
let me breathe a little
kill a little
walk a little
love a little
I am dying India dying
in your bosom
let me live a little
palpitate a little
curl up in your huge
arms a little
I am dying India dying
let me glorify all your deeds, misdeeds, crimes, killings, floods just
that
little bit.
I am dying India dying
in your living, vapid breath.
Homebody – A Poem by J.K. Durick
In all this time I haven’t traveled very far
Stayed nearby, a stone’s throw, a short ride
To everything, the landmarks of my life,
Those milestones that measure the years —
I can still get to my childhood home in ten
Minutes, maybe less if traffic isn’t too deep.
I work across the street from where I went
To grade school, went to college a short bus
Ride away, my college was across the road
From where I was born, still go to the church,
When I go, where I was baptized. I’ve been
Shopping in the same stores so long that
They’ve come to know me and never ask me
What I’m looking for, because I buy the things
I bought last week, last year, and years before.
Why, I’ve been married to the same person for
Forty years, our wedding was in my college’s
Chapel — across the road from where I was born.
These distances satisfy me, convince me that
Fate is enough. I rarely tampered, or meddled,
Or even raised my hand with a question. I am
Simply at home in the small place that I am.
Baker's Song – A Poem by Stan Morrison
Twinkie, Twinkie, Little Cake
You’re so popular, but a fake
Crème-filled centers taste like heaven
Freshness guaranteed till May 4007!
A Lifetime of Care – A Poem by Donal Mahoney
It’s a retirement haven
for people with money but it works
like a Roach Motel. People move in
but never move out.
You and your wife move in to
a big condo and you’re delighted
by all the amenities.
Golf, tennis, squash,
swimming in an indoor pool,
massage, good meals,
snacks for the asking, new
movies every weekend.
But then you need help
counting your pills and you
move into assisted living while
your wife moves into
a smaller apartment,
hoping to save money.
A year later you have a stroke
and you’re taken by gurney
to another building, the big one
in back of the compound
no one talks about.
It’s skilled nursing there.
Your stay ends when you leave
in a long hearse with your wife
in the front seat while a new couple
moves into one of the condos.
They’re delighted by all the amenities.
Could be the condo you and your wife
moved into when you came here.
More at http://booksonblog12.blogspot.com.
Name That Tune – A Poem by Stan Morrison
Where did I find the song I sing
The song inside all other songs
No one else can ever hear
Or claim it as their own
It’s a song of connections
A melody of loving and playing
The tune is made of dreaming
Dreaming of ancient songs
From the beginning of time
Rosalie May – A Poem by Stan Morrison
I once had a sister as in a dream
She walked me to school
Bossed me around
Taught me to smoke
And to listen to Jazz
Her laughter rocked the room
And her love filled my heart
Old photos back up the image
Her eyes were filled with unshed tears
Her revised smile lacked conviction
Tethered to coffee pots and ashtrays
As she laughed-coughed-laughed
Concealing oceans of disappointments
Scripting her life for others’ needs
Others less faithful
In her cotton dresses staying up late
Making sandwiches, folding laundry
When she caught me staring
She’d wink across the room
Nights were sad, company hard
The radio playing Joe Loco loud
Now she’s free to do as she likes
Laughing at her own jokes as in a dream
Power Piece – A Poem by Stan Morrison
There’re some tricks I’ve learned to do with a knife
I’m wondering if you won’t mind risking your life
I need the practice until I can get it right
You can wear a blindfold if you’d like
Or I could simply turn out the lights
Then I can do some fancy things with a gun
I’d love to try them out on you just for fun
I think I know how to get things done
But you gotta promise not to run
Don’t leave now, the fun’s just begun
How’s about my trying some stuff with grenades
Or I can show you how land mines are made
There must be some small country to invade
Or some tiny nuclear bombs we could trade
With such an arsenal, it’s easier to persuade
One by One… – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha
Nothing takes the sting out of fear
death lurking somewhere
a bullet straying somewhere
nothing takes the sting out of fear
stricken in moments when
wind plays devil, and water swirls in mad tempest
nothing takes the sting
fear is a death disaster
fear is a broken shield of a car
fear is the calling of hyenas
and mad dogs
fear is in those atrophied bodies wasted by bullets,
world phenomenon,
how can I encompass fear
with its heavy leaden moments of corrosion, gnarled face, emaciated
children in subtropics?
I had better hold it by a noose, strangulate it, let go its moments,
one by one…