Category: Poems

Poem: The Best Time to Think

The best time to think of thoughts untainted by prejudice or sorrow is in the twilight of consciousness, that murky fugue land situated between responsibility and fantasy, where the imperatives of earning and making and contributing fade into the purple black void of imagination. The best time to think of thoughts untainted by hatred or...

Poem: Song of the Misanthrope

Because the center of the universe can be located easily the anthem I pen is naturally of me: I did this and I did that, throw in a semi-automatic rat-a-tat-tat — and now you’ve got a song for radio, Which rhymes conveniently with “ho,” a word to which I’m well accustomed, unlike instruments I’ve never...

Poem: Suppositions

If my father were around to see what has happened to my dog and me, he would smile, I reckon. That important types do beckon is a sign, you see, of achievement. And conveniently they pay the rent.   If youngsters were inclined to glower at old thieves presently in power, we’d suffer less corruption....

Poem: Music

The joyful noise that scrapes away the accretions of malaise that reliably accompany any life lived without privilege is a pitcher of aural nectar, poured directly to the soul, which, like oil to an engine, needs the sweet sounds of pain and joy and remorse and hope to function properly.   You claim you cannot...

Poem: Endings

We were adults about the whole thing, saying the script learned well from years of practice and reading with spongy minds. It — the awful schism — was for the best as any self-help book, climbing up the bestseller list would have declaimed in tones of compassionate smugness.   Yet no one wanted to go...

Poem: Floral Message

Bursting forth, saying in color and delicate shape that striving for the sun is worth the heartache, the petals of the plants, demure and bombastic, try for nothing more than survival. But in this effort their nonchalant beauty, which impresses thirsty birds and dust-covered bees as much or more than human admirers, reminds all who...

If Trees Could Live Forever

I think that I shall never see A poem as lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks to God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her...

Poem: Without Health

Do you agree? Do you think this is true? Have you considered or are you offended or does this conform? When we say with certainty and a large (any word but “healthy”!) dollop of pomposity:   Without health, we have nothing. Without health, abiding happiness is not possible. Without health, the pleasures of life seem muted...