Contemporary Poems
What is Poetry to You? (Emily Dickinson) Defining outstanding poetry is a devilishly difficult thing to do. But many people do understand it “when you see it”. In that way, it is quite like trying to define beauty. When you see it, you know it, in the many forms it can present. Clearly, such …
For Relief No matter how much I desire it, I can watch the sunrise but once each day. Yet, it is the start of a craving whenever we are separated. You see, I have learned to value the nourishment found in my taste for you. While the future is dreamable, its content …
I Believe It Is Today The cherubims and seraphims say today will be my spirit day. I will not dispute, as I want to believe. I will go along with the grind. I will continue to vend. I can loose a thousand stuck lids before I tire. I will continue to …
Go for It Time It continually caught my notice and, over time, my astoundment. Morning light. Coming as praise. A massive victory. Marvelously revealing things I did not know I even wanted to know. Reminding I got through the night to make it through another day. This is a freedom …
Derision You know what it is like because you have been here before. Someone has done harsh on your mellow. It feels as if the old order of things is in disarray. Unadorned before your very eyes. Your sanctuaries have been invaded for the purpose of hurt and your air needs new …
What is Poetry to You? Defining outstanding poetry is a devilishly difficult thing to do. But many people do understand it “when you see it”. In that way, it is quite like trying to define beauty. When you see it, you know it, in the many forms it can present. Clearly, such things are …
Tomorrow I came upon a man whose eyes did sorely peer. Believing each time he blinked, he defeated the sun, if ever so briefly. It was he who believed he could see the low sweet chariot come. And let all the years compress into final thoughts of one. He understood …
On My Knee It is only for a moment I can keep you on my knee. You didn’t want to be here in the first place. You would much rather run around as fast as your bowlegs can carry you. You would much rather run with flailing steps and flying arms over to the bright, …
For Beginnings When a long supply of city blocks lies in front of you, notice how each door you pass tells a different story. Funny how the same thing happens with tinny sounds on thin country roads, set back on country lanes. Such is memory — clotted with remembering and the scrumptiousness …
The First Time I Saw Frederick Douglass Locking eyes, for just a moment. It was the first time I saw Frederick Douglass. I mean, really saw Frederick Douglass. No longer detached but attached at the spine through the brain. Carried away in the sweep of that moment telling me all I wanted to …