Tag: Poem 2016

  • Winter and Will, a Poem

    Writers comparing winter to death. How trite. Please, do summon some observational might. Winter is pre-birth, in all its cold mirth. Of course, there are those caught up in their own hopeful dearth. And so we go along thinking, “Winter is death. It is so cold. I might not be able to take another breath.” Oh yes. Winter provides its challenges. That is certain. In icy places, some might want to shout. Because it is so cold and they lack sufficient heat from the hearth. Frigid, choking air, a silent challenge to the lungs. And people suffering burns from the cold. But they will not shout, lest the ice air enter their lungs. Ah, the temperatures they confront call upon them to be bold. Sailors at sea have their faces ripped by the winter air. Jump in the water? They would not dare, no matter how much they like to swim. They know in their hearts that winter will win. They will be cast as human popsicles faster than you can say ice. A desire to stay warm is their principle vice.

  • Funky Semi-Rant Number 3, a Poem

    Deviled eggs are heavenly. Some heavenly food is devilish; just check your belly and thighs. Ah, life is filled with duality. Let’s let out a collective sigh. What do I make of this all? Need I make anything of it? We come; we go; life passes fast and slow and we are along for the ride. Unless we are filled with a burning desire inside. What is your angle on life? Have you given it much thought? Do you believe that happiness can be store bought? Hunger, certainly, will not make you happy. It will not give you a sense of pride. Yet after the basics of life, it takes more than material things to fill us with joy inside. PUMPKIN. Now that is a random thought. PUMPKIN, no relationship to this rambling discourse. None. Nil. Double aught. And yet, how many times do random things take hold in our lives. We get married to songs, goods and movies, like bees drawn to a queen in a hive. We obey the marketing masters and all the daring they do. The random for us becomes the necessary, through and through. Unless we give ourselves to think.

  • Punk Heartbeat, a Poem

    Yeah New York streets, dark beat And in a club you sit, daydreaming of a second chance that you’re not working for But the music, the music blasts Hop in Riveting Streaming fast and full on Some gal, slash marks on her arm All the way up and down No redemption there, just a misguided attempt Dark But light enough to see some slinky silhouette Up the stairs the figure stumbles Skinny with a skinny tie And he falls back, off the top step -- tie grabbed; he’s saved

  • A New Year’s “Me” Reflection; a Poem

    I wandered in my mind, letting out a cry, trying to find out a compelling reason why. Maybe my brain had gone gooey. I was without power to discern a sensible meaning. I was, simply put, unable to respond to the why. Nonsense or sense? Depends from whence it comes; whether it is seen as brilliant or just plain dumb. And that is the human condition, a largely perception based apparition -- but not totally. “Totally,” like you might say in the valley. Totally cool, surfers rule! Is that rad? Have no answer? That is truly sad. Yet perhaps not. Life is a journey, a discovery to learn what’s what. And there is a deadline, before we hit the plot.