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…
Mount Auburn – A Poem by Jessica Beck
There is a stone staircase in a tower in a cemetery just outside the city.
After the climb up you will look out breathless among the bones and
the flowers.
The wind will feel like hands in your hair, it echoes
with giggles of the dead, divine creatures and monsters.
Don’t be afraid.
Remember you’ve known them, and time will bow its head before you.
Old Cyril – A Poem by Gareth Culshaw
Old Cyril with his tales of engines
Ploughing fields and suchlike.
The suns he once knew
The light he had walked along.
Seeds been and gone, flowered
To bread, fed people he did not know.
Wheels taking time with each turn
Under the clouds that quietly gathered.
They sucked up the words he said
Then rained them down on his retirement.
Now he sits with newspaper words
The only conversation he has left.
Blank – A Poem by Dah
I am tired of the nonsense
of what does not matter.
This is how I arrived
at not caring:
My heart, a lone rock.
A slate-colored night
is thrown over my body,
the diction of damp leaves,
the convenience of loneliness.
If I could
I would turn the World into mythology
write a final chapter
because I am weary of gods,
of satans,
of those who break the light.
Give me the intelligence
of emptiness:
Let me begin each sentence
with nothing to say.
Let me end each poem
as a blank page.
More at https://dahlusion.wordpress.com/.
Written after a random act of violence in the cold-blooded killing of 67 year-old Steve Carter while walking his dog on a trail in Fairfax, California. Steve was a light-filled, beloved yoga teacher. Three 20 year-old drifters are in custody after being arrested while driving his car shortly after the killing. They shot his dog too.
Lone Star Reflection – A Poem by Daniel Klawitter
You know what I miss
About the Lone Star state?
The Tex-Mex food —
The chicken fried steaks.
The white cream gravy
To blanket your biscuits —
And ice cold beer
With Bar-B-Q brisket.
But the weather and religion
Can be so hard to bear.
Still Texans are always saying:
“Ya’ll come back now, you hear?”
And I do not miss the roaches,
The mosquitoes — all those bugs!
Bigger isn’t always better —
In terms of insects, faith or floods.
More at http://about.me/dklawitter.