“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Thursday, October 17, 2019
A sense of place
There was this song I have never heard
but its rhythms told my body that we've danced before.
In the yellow sunrise, the old farmhouse glows
like a candle in the road and looks as though I've lived there before.
The side door, if I remember, is unlocked.
The old woman that peddles vegetables every day in her blue bin on a bicycle,
I've never seen her before, but I bought some more Romas anyway.
Tulips in the garden are breaking their silence, like the mockingbird
the chorus, the words, I've heard anteriorly in this same spot before.
I thought by now I'd be pining for the giant hewn tree,
the shade it once made-but the roses are blooming,
and I'm left feeling stumped.
The grass is greener.
The new postman, who sometimes rings twice
because he forgets where he is at,
delivered a package for me down the street.
A neighbor I had never met brought it over to me,
like long lost friends, it was good to see both of them.
At home, I have house-guests
I rarely see.
Teenagers, some call them.
Outside, I feel out of place.
Inside, I feel too big in my own space.
Today, I picked up a peculiar novel
idea, and went with it.
Image By Yinan Chen (www.goodfreephotos.com (gallery, image)) [Public Domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Ruminating in repast
The family dines
on a round brown oak
slab
together
each night they live
together
a universe
is spread across
the Milky way
Facing each other
they nourish
each other
beneath the chandelier sun
aglow over the bounty
they need not kill to survive
anymore
they talk-the teens
they say
around the round brown oak slab
Thank you
for all
you do
dessert is served
The family got full
together
knowing home
intimately
the round world
fit into their dining room.
Image By Morgan Woodwork Organization, 1921 [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Mid-April 2016
I hear but cannot see
coming from behind me
I go on reading
like this
Anyway,
I hear
(in a deep voice)
"Cuz 'nigger' is a weird word-'
"Yeah-yeah-yeah, I mean..." squeaks
another
And I look up to see
a preppy young black teen
accompanied by two of his friends
(a fast-talking Filipino
and a shy brunette, buried in her phone.)
The black youth is pushing a Diamondback,
(not the snake, the bicycle)
wears square-rimmed glasses, his hair is tightly trimmed.
Seagulls bitch and moan in the back-ground tarmac
bickering over scraps
(maybe sushi)
in the adjacent high school parking lot atop the hill
over-looking the ocean
(a
ffluent
beach town.)
He looks over
to the sea,
sighs and says,
"To me, it just means 'slave'"
They have moved on.
Image credit USMC [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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