Category: poem

• complex jazz notes

  why does
  the wood here smell
  of urine
  two dancers find their
  own
  rhythm while an old lady
  walks out
  with her dog
  straining
  to leave
  all the while
  the upright bass
  competes violently
  against
  the trumpet
  and the man on my side
  says, with whiskey
  breath,
  i hate myself this
  much.

  August 17, 2011

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• my grandmother’s hand

  willow branches with
  graceful touch, you are, with wind,
  my grandmother’s hand.

  August 12, 2011

  ---

• awakened house (Alice B. Johnson)

  The house was strangely still —
  Forgotten for so long —
  Until we gave it laughter
  And a child’s gay song.

  Tall weeds grew in the yard;
  We dug them all away
  And, bathed in summer sun,
  Roses bloomed today.

  How nice it must have seemed
  For rooms to come awake
  And smell, instead of dust,
  A baking angel cake.

  Had we not passed this way,
  We never would have known
  The way a house can smile
  With folks to call its own.

  [Taken from “Where Children Live” by my great-grandmother Alice B. Johnson, 1958]

  August 11, 2011

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• going back to the beginning

  poems for my new readers who may not have ventured back to the first several posts…. enjoy!

  Short and Sweet (Norwegian Wood)
  http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/short-and-sweet.html

  Edits
  http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/edits.html

  Song of March (2003)
  http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/song-of-march-2003.html

  January (Outside My Parent’s House)
  http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/january-outside-my-parents-house.html

  Rows of No Smoking Lights
  http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/02/rows-of-no-smoking-lights.html

  August 10, 2011

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• apocalyptic clouds

  who am i to tell you to
  cheer up?

  outside apocalyptic clouds
  gather for a Socratic meeting
  debate a prophetic vision
  in fluff

  when butter melts
  on sidewalks
  it’s a harbinger for__________

  who am i say?

  August 9, 2011

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• battlefield glory orange

  oh! how my heavy bones
  trudge the hall
  with the defeat of
  an apparition
  who, in death, has
  accepted a weary
  soldier’s march

  at 3:39 a.m. the
  house instead
  settles down to
  a definitive rest
  and basks in the
  battlefield glory orange
  of streetlights

  August 5, 2011

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• yes or no? (haiku)

  when you know most con-
  sider it wrong; when you can’t
  help yourself… choose now.

  August 5, 2011

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• when memories are scraps

  scraps of our life together
  scattered on the floor
  tossed repeatedly

  when our life becomes
  junk hoarded

  each crystal figurine
  seems to, in a dusty coat,
  frown
  and shake a finger

  each newspaper, one
  on another,
  screams a headline of
  war

  when the dog sniffs out
  an old banana peel

  drags it along
  thinking, one day, this will be
  useful.

  August 4, 2011

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• this is what is on my mind

  this poem is what is on my mind tonight (again). in case you missed it.

  we’re never ready (i went to the piano)

  August 3, 2011

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• Gardenias in New Orleans

  we labor
  up the medium
  with a speed befitting
  Spanish moss
  languishing
  in the steam of a summer
  day dripping with
  Gardenia

  if i should
  succumb to the
  scent —
  some parade might
  saunter by
  toss beads
  round my skull
  round the bend
  drifting
  as slow as
  eddies on the great
  Mississippi

  August 2, 2011

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