Thanksgiving Dinner
Don’t forget the napkins, set the plates so /
Upon the tablecloth with its delicate lace /
Silverware all in an orderly row /
And never, ever neglect to say grace
Category: Poetry
Adil Moves House
Adil looked around him – /
Memories, an apartment full of memories. /
His beautiful mother. /
His wise father. /
His siblings. /
It would be difficult leaving this place.
Around the House
There is music around the house today: /
The old refrigerator hums a tune from Frozen /
Handel might envy the washer’s Water Music /
And the off-center dryer waltzes Blue Danube
Why I Wear a Boonie Hat
Sometimes I meet some other old man /
And we ask each other where we were /
Memories – some of them surprisingly good /
Others dark enough /
And we were so young /
My Beloved
There is a woman in a distant land, Far in the forests of Acadia, Who possesseth both beauty and wisdom. The locks of her hair are fabulous flames
Read MoreWhen is a Man Ripe for Harvesting?
Sunflowers are easy enough – the petals turn brown /
And the base is yellow, or better yet /
When in the heat of summer birds and squirrels /
Present themselves in your garden as dinner guests
The Solitude of Night
O the silence was loud, nay, blaring /
Whereupon every sound thereafter /
could only be likened to thunder /
Alack the torture of frozen time! /
and the ardent boredom of black night!
Autumn in Texas
A rustic dilettante, all ready to flirt
In his old khakis and a chambray shirt
Old boots, old gloves, a mattock or rake to wield
A boulevardier of row crops in the field
Star of the Sea
Oh star of the sea /
Oh glorious, guiding light /
Guide us to Heaven’s harbor /
Safely through the night
A Bouncing Baby Hyphen
Tiffany-Cherise Snark-Ponsonby (Tiffy)
And Terence-Rock Smith-Hoogerwerf (Rocky)
Married and hyphenated their hyphens
Felicity’s Night
Her appetite replaced by butterflies in her stomach
She eats a small salad with soup and crackers
Then she applies her cosmetics.
The phone rings.
Order Of Knights. Resigned.
A man draped in iron-bound ringlets. / His forearm is clenched, bearing his few pounds of metal, beaten and refined into a blade. He calls it beautiful, his friend, his right hand. /
Booted in stout cobbled leather, his feet remain settled in the grains of sand, waiting for the hourglass of happenings to converge on him.
A Poetry Brawl at the Long Branch Saloon
Much of being is chaos; we try to shape it
Into meaning, not artificial constructs
But the meaning that is, already is
But tumbled through the weeds and brokenness
The Children’s Back Yard Museum of Art
Children are the truest arbiters of art.
Finding beauty in the unlikeliest things:
A bottle cap, a rusted auto part.
Metal washers, broken glass, cigar rings
Our National Church
And then, we watch our evening shows
Where bullets fly, and people don’t die,
But miraculously rise again
To record the next
Most-watched season!
I Don’t Miss Working on the Farm
The hay balers are out early in the fields
Headlights outshining late September stars
The din of diesel engines shaking the world
I don’t miss working on the farm at all
Reapers
Reap to the edge,
Destroy the fence-row.
Make more crops
From which money grows.
In Praise of a Candle
A votive candle is good, and prayers are good
And those for whom the candle is lit are good
Especially when they feel they are not good
Because they are His gifts, and they are good
Polarity
You spoke of oranges and pomegranates, and moonlight on the Sea of Galilee…
Read MoreWindow Shopping
She set out to Assume Nothing.
Adil would be waiting for her.
Grey gloves in hand.
She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.
LogoSophia Magazine 