After reading "16 Whachamacallits" by Thomas, I searched the database for this from 2003. Originally based on Jack Kerouac's "Pops." Some are terribly self-conscious haiku or tanka-esque. Some are more spontaneous.




Briefly

 

 

     Turtle sleeps beneath 

the crystal ice, Tommy walks

     precariously

 

 

     

     I set out 

to touch the moon—

     it looks so near

 

 

        

      Poetry nearly is not— 

separated from nothing 

      by a thought

 

 

 

     Breezy afternoon 

sitting in the lacy shade 

     of a leafing tree—

 

     warm when the sunlight breaks through

cool behind the tender leaves

 

     

 

     Soon I will follow

walking the endless meadow

     across the river

 

 

 

     Me, 

me, me, me

     me

 

 

 

     Hours of cutting

days of warmth—

     wood for the stove

 

 

  

     Sound of mowing

calls the swallows

 

 

 

     I have become

the cow, the calf, the bull

 

 

 

     my goal

is to rid my life of blackjack

     and such 

 

(blackjack is species of oak)

 

 

       

     High on my poem

I haven’t found the flaw—

     yet

 

 

 

     Whip-poor-will’s

insane—

     put a sock in it!

 

 

 

     Frog’s gotta run,

here it comes—

     WEED WACKER!

 

 

 

     Spring leaves

dot the lawn—

     after the hail

 

 

     

     Gamboling calves 

& gambling bucks—

     cattle ranching

 

 

 

     Plumbing repair 

on Friday is dumb

 

 

 

     Then it hits me—

they’re gone

 

 

 

     There is much

not to say

 

 

 

     The rain passed

us by—

     fickle twit

 

 

 

     With good intentions

we hang the hummingbird’s feeder

     from a redbud branch—

 

     kitties watch from below

but the hummers don’t care

 

 

 

     In the bright sunlight

my new sneakers look too white

 

 

 

     The cold front

is welcome—

     but I’m cold!

 

 

     What’s that flash

of blue and yellow in the tree?

     Tommy!

 

 

 

     Another weekend gone!

 

 

 

     Afternoon 

brings a lull

     a stolen moment

 

 

 

     Lush is the sound

of grass this spring—

 

 

 

SIR EDMUND

 

     Thin of face  

noble of demeanor 

 

   

 

     Look at the trees

they’re doing a magic dance!

 

 

 

Instructions for an Artist

 

     Build 

from a collection of hues

     a fabrication—

 

     a myth

which looks like the truth

 

 

 

     quaking aspen beats anything—

shim shim shimmy leaves

     all it wants is mariachi

 

 

 

     Green fly drinks a bead 

of water upon my arm

     then bites me! Ingrate!

 

 

 

     The reality of country life

is a wild swing between

     god-awful and nearly perfect

 

 

 

Pavement

 

     This

is a glide—

     smooth on soles

 

 

 

     A jumble of legs entwined

we are starfish—

     

 

 

     Day ends

reading light off

     head on pillow—

 

     silence roars

 

 

 

Chipmunk

 

     Very dead

gripped in the maw 

     of my mewing cat

 

 

 

     La, it rained 

la, it rained

     la la la it rained

 

 

 

Point of View

 

The soldier says, “I have cold feet.”

The captain says, “Son, we’re all scared.”

The chaplin says, “God be with you.”

The sergeant says, “Get some dry socks.”

 

 

 

First Blush

 

     As she bathes away her ache

a plume wafts gently—

     from the warmth, into the warmth

 

 

 

     Life’s little pleasures

ease the pain

 

 

 

On black cats with yellow-green eyes

 

     Sometimes that is all you see—

 

 

 

On Losing

 

     It hurts

 

(Chicago Cubs, October, 2003)

 

 

 

     An armada of white pelicans 

rests

     on their way south

 

 

 

     Out of tune

my three violins

     sing the comic harmonic

 

(tinnitus)

 

 

 

     Bach’s cantatas prove

humans can be humane

 

 

 

     Every tick of the clock

brings us closer 

     to immortality

 

 

 

     Felipe Alou

Felipe Alou

     Felipe Alou

 

 

 

     We set our clocks back today

returning

     what we borrowed

 

 

 

     A rock is always handy

 

 

 

     God bless 

the librarian 

     who says hush!

 

 

 

     Watching you dance

puts a smile on my face

 

     (Tommy, dancing to Vince Guaraldi)

 

 

 

     I like boots that tie

belts that cinch

     and poems with and without form

 

 

 

 





Poetry by jim The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 226 times
Written on 2019-03-24 at 12:30

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Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
All of these are so pleasing. It is amazing how so little can create so much. My whole self thanks you for sharing.
Smiling is enjoyment.
2019-04-02


Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Oh, Jim, these are glorious! I especially cherish "High on my poem" for its last line, and "fickle twit" for the rain! So many good things here! Applauded! Bookmarked!
2019-03-24