When the last voice
over the airwaves
goes silent —
despite there being
no one to listen —
I’d like to believe
the silence will be felt
in the universe.
POEM: Last Transmission
1
Tag Archives: poetry
POEM: The Challenge of Self-Knowing
some swans think themselves ducks
some ducks think themselves swans
some fawns think themselves bucks
some gold thinks itself bronze
the static thinks itself in flux,
and has-beens think themselves icons
such is the challenge of self-knowing
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Clear Skies & Cold Water [Haibun]
Crisp air and clear skies freshen the senses, injecting one into a world more real than one has felt before. Cerulean skies, free of contrails, feel close at hand. Grazing leisurely, a deer cracks a downed limb, the sound carrying across the lake. A fluttering fishtail breaks the water as a bass turns and darts down and away, the sound of sprayed water is heard clearly, though one sees no indication of the creature. Shifting winds fill one’s nose with an antiseptic scent of pine. One is alive — fully alive.
early autumn
skies tint the muddy lake
a cold color
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POEM: Where Breath Isn’t Free
Woe is the place where breath isn’t free —
underwater, metaphorically or literally.
A cement-shoe walk through the pond,
looking up to the blurred and shimmering light
that you can’t reach —
with an intense urge to suck air,
air that isn’t there.
An attempted breath would be an act of suicide —
no more satisfying than any act of suicide —
but a good deal more painful than most.
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POEM: Life Behind the Veil
Those who wished to see but not be seen
would sit and see the world through carved screens,
taking in the thriving market scenes,
watching hunched women sweep the streets clean,
vendors ladling curry from tureens,
pickpockets who thought themselves unseen,
and drunks who use walls as a latrine.
What’s worse about life behind the veil,
the sight of lives lived beyond the pale,
or knowing you live outside the tale?
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POEM: Kindred Spirits [Prose Poem]
Sitting with my wife at the breakfast table this morning, I was struck by the realization that human beings and seedless watermelons have something important in common. We were both robbed of our evolutionary raison d’être, and, in both cases, the culprit was humanity (the OTHER “damned dirty ape.”)
But, at least, humans have gotten a chance to choose their new [and, hopefully, improved] reason for being. Seedless watermelons have not been so lucky.
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Limerick of the United Arab Emirates
There was a man from the UAE
who cleaned windows for a small fee,
’til he got the urge
to work at the Burj.
Then his rates went up radically.
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POEM: Turvy Town [Sonnet]
In our town, soundless sounds abound.
The right are wrong; the sighted, blind.
The king is fired, and peasants crowned.
The waters plowed; the sky is mined.
The pauper ‘s taxed; the righteous fined.
Arsonists fight fire with more fire.
Notebooks are vertically lined.
Sellers hand money to buyers.
Only the town nudist is attired.
Workers fill holes yet to be dug.
Things are made after they’ve expired.
Patients prescribe the doctors’ drugs.
If your right is left and up is down,
you’re perfect for our Turvy Town.
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POEM: Black Skies [Rondeau Quatrain]
I saw the black skies up ahead,
but hoped they’d clear as I approached.
I hoped they’d clear as I approached.
I saw those black skies up ahead.
And from the distance I felt dread.
The dark wouldn’t yield to my reproach.
I saw those black skies up ahead,
but hoped they’d clear as I approached.
The ebon clouds began to spread.
Into my mind they did encroach,
and on my bliss began to poach
until something monstrous was bred.
I saw the black skies up ahead,
but hoped they’d clear as I approached.
I hoped they’d clear as I approached.
I saw those black skies up ahead.
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Mountain Trail Tanka
I
yellow flowers,
along the trailside,
wave in the breeze;
butterflies flit
with random purpose
II
grazing livestock
trim the trail corridor
golf course neat;
not even the steepest
parts grow out shaggy
III
hear the burble
of the flowing water
where’s the creek?
it’s marsh-like in the grass,
awaiting a naïve boot
