Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Memory of A Porch By Donald Justice

What I remember
is how the wind chime
commenced to stir
as she spoke of her childhood.
As though the simple
death of a pet cat,
Buried with flowers.
Had brought to the porch
A rumor of storms
dying out over
some dark Atlantic.
At least I heard
The thing begin-
A thin, skeletal music-
And in the deep silence
Below all memory
The sighing of ferns
Half sleep in their boxes.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

A Bookmark By Tom Disch

Four years ago I started reading Proust.
Although I'm past the halfway point, I still
have seven hundred pages of reduced
type left before I reach the end. I will
slog through. It cannot get much more dull than what
is happening now: he's buying crepe-de, chine
wraps and a real, well-documented hat
For his imaginary Albertine.
Oh, what a slimy sort he must have been-
So weak, so sweetly poiwsonous, so fey!
Four years ago, by God! -and even then
How I was looking forward to the day
I would be able to forgive, at last,
And to forget "Remembrance of Things Past."

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The Word Bell That Rings

Pacifica St. Beach,
Pacifica, California,
Morning surfers,
Rolling waves:
white foams,
blades of green,
push, one after another,
profoundly sound,
people walk dogs,
doing fetch and catch games,
warm sunshine,
Believe it or not,
Ride the ducks,
lots of cars,
brave swimmers,
smooth rocks,
many footprints,
advanced camera,
swallow so many images,
including rocks
piled like
a tower,
and oldman
as if
the sky

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Hope By Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in the extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012


give me a book
to read,
a notebook for my
diary, a pen to write
my thoughts out-
my inner swirls
are purple with the old time treasures
becoming today's raining wail.
I want only to gently touch
the dividers that measure the distance in between
to focus on factors that
stand out bettering me and you,
not fearing to identify
the false claims misleading you.
So when things become pushy
and you're encouraged to sin again,
I shall block my anguish flow
with built-in resistance.
and I pass the distubtance
of the eyelessness
or ignorance
of your low class existence.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

October Song By Thomas Lanier Williams

"There is enchantment here!" I mused, Beguiled-
Seemed Time herself, her erstwhile errant ways
Forgot, loitered with us and fondly smiled!
Caught in a net of gold and azure days!
But I lacked wit to see how lightly shoon
were time and you, to vagrancy so used
that by the glance of one October Moon.
From Summer's tranquil spell you might be loosed.
Think you love is write on my soul with chalk,
To be washed off by a few parting tears?
Then you know not with what slow step I walk,
The barren way of these hibernate years,
My life a vanished interlede, a shell,
whose walls are your first kiss
and last farewell!

Saturday, November 3, 2012

You and Spring


holding hands,
in spring you come-
there is sweetness.
There is rebirth,
there is flame,
and there is witty game,
The beauty of you
and her (spring)
individually blend,
hand in hand,
with spring,
you went.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Agenda Weekly

 google.com image

Walmart, bananas,
Mixed nuts, skim milk, soups,
Check out, credit card.
Pork, beef, and chicken,
Naval oranges, basic 4
cereals, cup noodles.
Spicy shrimp, subway,
Shopping carts, emotional bay,
Chips, sauces, picture fee.
Mid-first bank, cashiers,
Tooth paste, tooth brush, and gel pens,
Gift card, cost worthy.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Heaven of Animals (For Poets Rally Week 75)


There they are, their sensitive eyes open,
Deep in the woods,
Beyond the far and wide plains,
These animals howl,
with golden grass rolling
under their feet.
Their instincts wholly bloom.
To cooperate with them,
the landscape plants curl their fingers,
without screaming,
withholding their breath,
the haunted woods,
The bloody footprints,
Claws and teeth are their perfect tools.
At the cycle's center,
Knowledge, acceptance, and
self-fulfillment overcome.
Fears and pain,
They keep walking,
Shaking off torn loses
with repeated sovereign circulation of joy.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Stillness By Lumye Sue Fike


Thursday Short Story Slam Week 29: Dramas and Freedom

Only stillness can be
Master of disparity.
Only quietness wait, and prove
Abler than discordant move.
Silence on a country hill-
Grass and flowers bend at will.
Winding pathways all know
Splendor under soft white snow.
A warm smile in a cold room
may break an atmosphere of gloom,
On soft words from gentle tongue,
Worlds of happiness may be hung.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Hand In Hand


Hyde Park Thursday Poets Rally Week 74 (October 4 -October 10)

You saw it on TV,
And felt it yearly;
It brushes the land with winds,
and blankets the earth with wandering minds,
It gives hope to homeless citizens,
and decorates the hills with colorful hues,
summer rain and winter snow in alternate seasons,
The hand is invisible to visible truth.
Our hearts become cold
without the divine hand to behold,
God's hand is mighty and fair,
It spreads love to faithful followers,