To see a flower open into sun, To hear the crack of dawn in sparrow's tweet, To breathe the sounds of children having fun Through syncopated pats of toddler feet; And then to leave that all behind to join The wheel that swallows everything it finds To spin its labor straw into a coin As shiny as its meal of chewed-up minds; It's hard upon a silent, weary eye That misses hearts long dead and longer cherished, That knows no inability to cry And cries so long as longing hasn't perished. The solemn rite of weeping in the rain Is all a fool for love can hope to gain.
Poetry
Ekphrasis of Meghan Tutolo’s “Young Night”
My free verse entry for Rattle’s November 2015 Ekphrasis contest. On Meghan Tutolo’s Young Night.
Hand in hand, we take it all in:
The babble of the river,
The whisper of the wind,
The fading scream of a police siren
Somewhere on the other side of town
Making a play for the night’s attention,
But the night only has eyes for us:
You and me,
Standing hand in hand,
Taking it all in.
I squeeze your hand,
You smile that I’m not going to smile smile
That you often wield on nights like this,
And I squeeze your hand,
Again.
The night is young
And ours,
All of it.
Before And After
Two halves of a freshly baked bun
Sandwiching your #moment patty.
Savor it, my friend.
Dawn
Dawntime in the fall:
When beauty spies you
Admiring its bare, silent splendor,
It whispers,
“And you thought you knew me.”
Wisdom
Wisdom is the father of intelligence:
Indulges and disciplines child
Till it rebels and runs away
Leaving him without a say.
Vanity
You can help
By keeping out of the way,
But vanity is to stand out
While doing so,
Like a pinky tilted up
At afternoon tea.
Lukey, Slurp!
Lukey, slurp!
Lukey, nibble!
Lukey, burp!
Lukey, dribble!
Slurping, nibbling,
Burping, dribbling,
Doings of my
Youngest sibling.
Daisy Muzaffer Susannah the Third
Have you ever heard of that fine hummingbird,
Miss Daisy Muzaffer Susannah the Third,
She hummed and she minged, oh the joy that she bringed
To the tulips that smiled and the bluebells that ringed.
Goose, Gone
Stuff your mouth, bulge your cheeks,
Fly down south for sixteen weeks.
Old Dame Rehmet
Old Dame Rehmet weaved a tale
Like no one in her time,
With flying turnips, itching queens
And demons speaking rhyme,
She told them all in different voices
And the wildest costume choices.