Tuesday, March 31, 2015

NaPoMo 30 for Thirty 2015


Well, it's that time of year again wherein your intrepid hero writes one poem for each day of National Poetry Month and hopes 2 or 3 of them are worth keeping. As in year's past they will mostly be haiku, Senryu and other short forms, although not necessarily. Also, as before I'll be updating this post throughout the month. You should feel free to leave your own haiku in the Comments. So here we go . . .

Rap video
The thick legs of
the TV stand

Sauerkraut 
The aftertaste of 
Sixth Grade German

Smoke above
the volcano on Fogo
Grandfather's glare

First of April
The wind rolls a butt
around the tray

Bathroom mirror
All this new gray means
almost time to dye

Starbucks
An old navy veteran
reads Melville 



And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)



Friday, March 27, 2015

FRIDAY FOLLIES 27 MAR 15

I will definitely be doing a poem a day this year for National Poetry Month (NaPoMo) and will add an extra twist this year. Be sure to check out the April 2015 issue of POETRY magazine, there's a lot of strong work there from the forthcoming Breakbeat Poets anthology. Having said that, here's a poem or two . . .

Morning fog
The smell of coffee
lifting

Waddling in
V shaped tracks
flock of geese 

To and fro
in this Sandy wind-
Stop Sign

Lynchburg Virginia-
The body of a black boy
under a white sheet

Vernal Equinox-
Half the eggs spill
the carton

Vernal Equinox-
Her glass eye 
half full

Poker game
The winner stacks up
his lies

Casino
So many happy sounds
from the machines

In the bushes
The smell of beer
before and after

Hand on chin
The Portrait watches Zoe
puzzle



And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)




Friday, March 20, 2015

Friday Follies 20 MAR 15

Black Byrd
swinging in the dead of night
Take those broken wings . . .

Mississippi rain
Half nod of a Byrd
hanging from a tree



EXCERPTS FROM "THIRTEEN WAYS OF HANGING A BLACK BYRD"

ONE

Among twenty rainy trees,   
The only hanging thing   
Was the body of the black Byrd.

THREE

The black Byrd swung in the winter wind.   
It was the Final Act of the pendulum. 

FOUR

The rope and the tree
Are one.   
The rope and the tree and the black Byrd   
Are one.

FIVE

I do not know which to infer,   
A body of shadows   
Or a body of light,   
The black Byrd hanging   
Or just before.

SIX

Raindrops fill the window   
With savage reflections.
The body of the black Byrd
Crosses it, to and fro.
The moon
outlines
An inexplicable cause.

THIRTEEN 

It was midnight all day.   
It was raining   
And it was going to reign.   
The black Byrd swung
In the locust-limbs.

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Tuesday Tidbits 17 MAR 15



My heart is battered. 
What kind of oil is best 
to fry it in?

Evening sun
Unrolling the Prayer Rug
A ghazal

Mouse in the bathtub
Suddenly
I can dance

Fourteenth of March
Today's Pi is not
fattening

Winter wind
Halfway across the lot
tears 

Snowy field-
One by one the crunch
of geese

There once was a Coxswain named Borringe, 
who openly inspected his sporange, when surprised by his Skipper,  
it got caught in his zipper, 
turning him six shades of orange.






Tuesday, March 03, 2015

Tuesday Tidbits 20 Feb 15



Equinox-
The saxophonist's head
half-cocked

Scimitar moon-
Silently counting
the scars

Up all night
around and around the house
Winter Wind

Polar Vortex-
The subzero whiteness of
the toilet seat. 

Snow drifts-
Marshmallows in one
side of the mug

Snowy field
Crossing to the other
side of the tracks

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)




Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Tuesday Tidbits 17 Feb 15



Valentine's Day-
The Poker Room couch
filled with women

Valentines Day-
The Ebb Tide's
slow tease

Fiftieth birthday-
Breath taken away by a
trickling stream

Fifty-fifth birthday-
The Brown Thrasher may be
going extinct

Low Winter sun
Sharp glare from a neighbor's
window 

Snow storm 
The silent softness of a 
wool blanket

Winter sunset
A husband and wife with
matching walkers

Snow forecast
I grab another bottle
of dandruff shampoo


And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)



Sunday, February 15, 2015

V-Day Follies

Valentine's Day-
In the corner of her eye
his smile

And until next we meet, may all your potatoes be sweet (and dusted with cinnamon.)