Tag: Poetry
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Lookout Finch
Lookout Finch scanning bushesfor any cattail twitchesbefore dining at the feederbreakfast buffetrecently toppled byferal cat’s paws finches routed byhalf a dozen pigeonbig-boys, the size ofbarred rock chickens, whilestealthy paws send themskittering skyward to roofs and into the treesseeking a safe perch andcomforting anonymitywhile feral pools of cats’ pawsripple and flow, primordial oozein the hedgerow –LE…
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Wading In Providence
Providence provision by nature or godsby a higher power thenout of our control in the enda mystery condition of universefaith in higher powerswading in the murky waters – of providence –LE – 9/23/24
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Saturday Morning – Late September
Late September Saturday Morning warm sun rays, screenedthrough arborvitae and citrusetch long shadows across the yardhumming to morning’s dance the morning doves, finches, and pigeonsalready emptied the feeders and moved ona chicken clucks and a dog barksdown the block a few bees gather pollen as alarge, satiny-black butterfly flits fromfrond to petaled frond of the…
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In My Own Mind
In My Own Mindby Lyle Lovett I get up in the morningDrink a cup of coffeeI look out of the windowI try to get it startedI turn it all overPlow it all underI plant ’em in the springtimePick ’em in the summer I live in my own mindAin’t nothin but a good timeNo rain just…
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1968 – Wisps Over the Bowl – A Memory
A fellow musician and I hitchhiked to New York City from Lorian, OH, with only our guitars in tow, in late November of ’68. The poem is a short recollection of the trip home. Wisps Over the Bowl 1968 Five hours hitching outside Newark Airport20 degrees, freezing fingers, ears, and toes,no one stops or even…
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Late September Sunday Morning
Late September Sunday Morning Sol’s long rays illuminate acloudless cerulean skyand yes, I’ll repeat a metaphorthat has served before long shadows cross the pathnature’s barcodingshows us where we’re atanalog coding, what a laugh the Tucson mountains on our leftlooking like giant razor fangsof Rodan or Godzilla raising its headto swallow Tucson whole a mottled gray…
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Message For A Time Capsule
I came across this poem many years ago, and it has stuck with me. Our insane world of political and religious partisan vitriol always pulls it from the back of my mind to the fore. It’s as poignant now as the day it was written. (IMHO)… Message for a Time Capsuleby Philip Appleman I have…
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Long Ride Home
Long Ride Homeby Patty Griffin Long black limousineShiniest car I’ve ever seenThe back seat is nice and cleanShe rides as quiet as a dreamSomeone dug a hole six long feet in the groundI said goodbye to you and I threw my roses downAin’t nothing left at all in the end of being proudWith me riding…
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A Memoir Memory From 1980
Lunch In A City Park Ah, there’s a bald head andThere, bouncing boobsOver there, a large paunchParading through They’re all here at lunchtimeMidday summer respiteBlazes of red, yellow, and blueSomething old, something new Feminine styles seated on the lea‘Machos’ up against the treesSleesey dudes strutting throughThey’re all here, lunchtime ease The band is playing, a…
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The Painters With Whiskey
This is a repost from February of ’23, but I used a different watercolor, and no, it’s not a whiskey painting… Whiskey Painters 4×5 inchmasterpiecespaintswere carriedin a smallAnacin tinfolding brushcompletedthe ensemble table in the barthe painter’sbrush dipped ina half-fullshot glassJamesonwon’t mindfor art’s sake vibrant colorsbrushed onhoneyed withaged IrishKentuckyor Tennesseelittle masterpiecesexchanged We’re allwelcome to tryWhiskey-coloredmasterpieceslandscapesportraitsabstractssounds prettydaunting…
CynOp 