POETIC SATURDAY - ISSUE 2 - JANUARY 11, 2025
Free Verse:
In Moments like These
as we lie on our deathbed
and pray to God pleading with him
to forgive us our sins
as our girlfriend/boyfriend
husband/wife/significant other
says, “we need to talk. this isn’t
working out”
as the sheriff stands at the door
of our home to evict us
as our boss summons us to his office
and tells us to close the door and sit down
then says, “I have bad news…”
as someone demands that we hurry up!
no matter where we are
who we are
what language we speak
the color of our skin
our political persuasion
our religious viewpoint
our sexual identity, romantic orientation, or social status
it is in moments like these that we prove
we are more alike than different as we
each make the exact same request:
“please, give me just a little more time.”
Pretty Stacks
Magazines, everywhere I look.
My living room is filled with magazines.
There are so many that they are kept in stacks.
I do not buy individual issues—they are purchased
per annum and have been for years.
There is Time; Entertainment Weekly; Psychology Today;
Sports Illustrated; Better Homes and Gardens;
Popular Mechanics; Wired; and Essence.
There is Rolling Stone; Art in America; Motor Trend;
Variety; Vogue; Architectural Digest; GQ; Glamour;
Travel and Leisure; Car and Driver; Rider; and Autoweek.
There is Wine Spectacular; Family Circle;
Elle Décor; Digital Photo Pro; Elysian; and W.
There are others as well.
Earlier this week, I caught the mailman
giving me the finger when he thought
I was not looking.
It made me wonder what his reaction would be
if he knew the truth—that I never read any of these magazines; that OCD grows tranquil amidst a sea of pretty stacks.
Sonnets:
Eyes That Sleep
She’s up all night and never will say why.
She listens to her music and zones out.
It moves her and she laughs but then she’ll cry,
And I can only guess what it’s about.
I think that she’s afraid to close her eyes.
That nightmares from her past may haunt her dreams.
So, fighting sleep is now her way of life,
At least to me that is the way it seems.
She’s intellectual: sharp as a tack.
She’s funny with a wit that’s truly bright.
She moves ahead and there’s no looking back.
She’s just this way as long as day has light.
Strange visions in the darkness can appear,
And eyes that sleep may open back in fear.
Quintessential Toast
I have a soft spot for you, little heel;
One side of bread, one side a turtle’s shell.
I can’t imagine how that makes you feel.
I’m hoping that you take rejection well.
It’s tougher when you’re unlike all the rest,
When you’re ignored and smaller than they are.
Like them, you rose and passed each stringent test,
But live your life with one defining scar.
And they don’t know you’re quintessential toast;
That when it comes to texture, you stand tall.
You’re confident and have no need to boast,
So they don’t get that you protect them all.
Diversity is good and with that said,
You heel, you are my fav’rite piece of bread.
Haiku:
The Noble Expedition
snail travels inches
man travels the globe—find the
wonder in all things
Trying to Survive
a drop of water
gravity pulling from spout
like me, hanging on
Soprano to the Bass
leaves stretching for sun
roots diving deep for water
life is harmony