Occasional Poetry

Poetry is my first love. If there were a way to make a living writing poetry, I would jump at that chance. Poems will appear here between the longer non-fiction and fiction. I know poetry is not everybody’s cup of tea, but give it a shot. You should find something you like here and there.

Here’s one to get you started:

 

Leaf Burning

early Sunday morning
disturbs no one barring
the leaves themselves who
tumble compliant to
death.

Smoke plumes waft by
windows shut against
morning air; a neighbor at tea
might glance from the news
of yesterday’s calamities —
all is silent.

I stand guard – my metal rake
also a sentry against intruders –
we the witnesses: no town
square, no heretics,
no pleas for mercy
this blue smoky morn.

The search for released seeds brings
blue wings down, red chests echo
earlier flames no turned to
semi-ash; only sighs of gray
drift upward.

Higher still a beverage service is being
offered – doubtful my smoke
signals seen from such a pass:
have I sent vulgarity
to heaven?

At noon all is gray – sentries gone in
to books or billiards or a smoke
(well, probably not) –
enough evidence remains
until dusk.

 

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