The Fierceness

She had suns for eyes
Eclipsed by twin full moons
Their corona blazing
In spectral colors
Of flashing
Dazzling solar bursts.

Even now I blindly stare 

By damage inflicted
From gazing into her twin solar flares.

Oh, I see

But only in relation
To where she was in that moment.

Her dark hair

Like velvet night

Bracketed

Those blazing orbs
And my life now pivots
Upon the moment
I gazed into the fierceness of her eyes

Centered by twin black holes

Overwhelmingly drawing me into her

Always
Irresistibly
More and more
Deeply
Into her.

In the 'Burbs

I dwell in the suburbs of Heaven
Where everything
Is in abundance
But far more expensive.

Love is the currency

Of Heaven.
But out here
In the ‘burbs
Love as a commodity
Is rare
And exceedingly costly.

Coffee

In heaven
May be had at your whim.
But out here
In the ‘burbs
It must be carefully cultivated
Processed
Roasted and ground
Before enjoyed.

All other examples

Are consistent with these.
But take it from me
No matter what the realtors say
Flee the ‘burbs
And run into
The Heavenly City.

When?

I can sit just a short while
Watching the sunset
Gazing at stars
Conjuring emotion
And hoping the universe respond.

When time has elapsed

I get jittery
Like a finger on a gun.

I want more.

 

Desire

Is the middle name

Of every man.

Nothing further need be said

Beyond this…
If not now, when?

Humbling Endorsement From a Friend

One of the greatest things about my experience with this blog is getting to know some of my readers, and writers of other blogs. Tim O'Keefe, who writes as "Ordinary Guy" contributes some very insightful and heartfelt posts on his site. Do yourself a favor and read Tim at "Justordinarythoughts.blogspot.com." The most humbling tribute I've ever had was posted in the Comment section of his most recent post. I will print it below, because....well because it feels so good to be endorsed from a man like Tim, who is also a teacher of children. Second grade, I think. It takes a man with far more patience than I to do a job as meaningful as his. Here's what Tim wrote about this blog.........

Go to http://thedashboardpoet.blogspot.com/ to read some honest to goodness, brilliant poetry and prose from a modern day wordsmith. You won't regret it.

Thanks, Tim. You bless me.

~ James

That's the Truth

I’ve heard this story before
And I know it very well.
She acts the suffering martyr
And I’m a demon, a flash from hell.

I tell you, I’m done with this.
I’m finished with her act.
I’m done with her drama
And that’s a serious fact.

Every building has its exits
And I’m headed for the door.
I’m going before she sees me
Before she walks across the floor.

She sure looks fine in that red dress

And I’ll bet she smells real good.
But I’m headed for that front door.
I’m leaving here, like I should.

But, damn, I think she saw me
And she’s walking this way now.
What harm could one little drink do?
But, just a quick one, that’s my vow.

I never should have come here.

I knew better, and that’s the truth.

I have my pride

And I can’t hide

No matter how she lied.
But I'll have just one quick beer.
I know better, and that’s the truth.

Polly*

Gotta parrot on my shoulder
Bright in plumage
And lively in personality
Sitting very near my ear.

All day long he chatters
Often repetitiously
Driving me to distraction.

He’s been there for years.

He squawks
The whole night long
Even in my dreams
And subsists on the most meager
Of rations.

I would pay you, sir

If you would relieve me
Of this exotic blessing.

I crave the company

Of my own thoughts.
Even silence would be
A blessing.

 

But, right now

Polly wants a cracker

So I must run to find one.

There must be a cracker somewhere.

Don’t you need a parrot, sir?
One with bright plumage?


* Poetry deals in pictures and metaphor. Not all parrots are parrots, nor all crackers a cracker. 

Old Lace

Old lace in windows
Yellowed with years
Hang stiff and brittle
Where pale, old eyes peer.

Streets lonely, or busy

Sun-baked or wet
Viewed through old lace
Are difficult to forget.

Fingers filigreed

Like the lace she holds
Are twisted and gnarled
Waxy and old.

Eyes dim and tired
Scan the endless parade
A progression of ages
A long motorcade.

Activities don’t change

But the people all do.
Whether male or female
Whether many or few.

Our silent audience watches

Through fragile old lace
With eyes dim and aged
In a time-ravaged face.

Watching, always watching

Still watching us yet.

All the passage of time

Must be hard to forget.

Fumbling With Words

Fumbling 

What might I say
Were you here now?
Would I fumble with words
Hoping to seem distant
Even disinterested?
Would I hope you think me
Managing life well
Having little thought of you
No need of you?

Or would I burst wide
In a profusion of pleas
For one more chance
To prove myself
Even begging you return me
To that lofty place I once held
In your heart?

I hide within words

Using vocabulary as camouflage.
I have become skilled
In the art of communication
Subterfuge.

Nevertheless

My competency
Has the capability to betray
My true emotion.

I miss you the way

Fire misses oxygen, when smothered.
Silently I cry out for you
But I am unwilling to voice my true heart.

What would I say to you
Were you with me in this moment?

Nice weather we are having

Isn’t it?

It's All the Same to Me

She hailed a cab on State Street
And drove off in the rain.
She had a gracious countenance
And I saw her not again.

 

What is this haunting echo

Suggesting we had met before?
Perhaps in other torrents
On a distant rain-drenched shore.

I know I’m prone to fancy

And my mind plays games with me.
But I swear there, for a moment
I saw more than I should see.

Were she and I once lovers?

Did I say, “Farewell, Marie?”
Did I set sail in my vessel?
And was I lost at sea?

Or were she and I both mates once?
Did love die before it began?
Was there heartache in the mixture
When love slipped through our hands?

Did I call her “Lovely Susan”?

Was her pet name “Turtle Dove”?
Did we spend ourselves in laughter?
Was I smitten with her love?

The intrusive sounds of busses
And the cacophony of noise
Shook from my head the magic
That transpires ‘tween girls and boys.

She was a fare for a yellow taxi

Just a woman from the street.
Chances are nothing happened
And we never once did meet.

But there remains a wistful hunger

That makes my head to turn
Sets afire my bosom
And makes my spirit burn.

I may never know the secret
Of subdued memory.
It’s best to leave it lonely
And it’s all the same to me.

His Alphabet

The old sergeant shouted the alphabet.
New Army rules prevented he be plain
But we all understood his meaning
As letters pelted us like rain.

WTF! GDI! USOB's!
The old sergeant screamed.
We all stood at attention
His alphabet more pointed than it seemed.

His alphabet sputtered and spewed
As he did his wild war dance.
His anger flamed and flashed
Like the lethal point of a lance.

WTF! GDI! USOB's!
He exclaimed once more
As he danced around in circles
Like an Indian about to go to war.

The old sergeant targeted everyone.
He shredded all he saw
And I was absolutely certain
Something was stuck up in his craw.

WTF! GDI! USOB's!
He screamed as he grabbed his chest
Then he fell ingloriously to the floor
Pending a Coroner’s Inquest.

Run!

They said that they would help me
But I haven’t seen a time
The counsel that they gave
Was worth a copper dime.

They said they really cared
They wanted to relieve me of my pain
But every single time
They were wind storms with no rain.

They said they had the answers

To every question that I had
But when it came to truth
Their advice was worse than bad.

Let me make this clear

Let me put it to you straight
You better think a second thought
Before it gets too late.

All those “theys” out there
Have another agenda, son.
When they tell you they have your answer
You best turn around and run!

Gone

The snow softly falls
Coating awnings and sidewalks
With a fine powder.
Tires sigh on the boulevard
Much as do I.

There is no energy

This bleak Tuesday.
Hour piles upon hour
Falling like snow
Until all that remains                                 
Is time
Expended
Lost and gone.