. . . more from . . .
Tiger Lilies
Frogs, Deer, and Lovers
Frogs enjoy respecting
The boundaries of lovers
In the Ohio Moon light.
Deer try their best
Not to get caught in the headlights
Lovers returning from the woods
Zen Leaf
A leaf turns
Every
Where.
Nothing I Can Find
I even looked
Under the tablecloth.
There is no tablecloth
So I went out and bought another one.
When I came home I said,
“Where is a good place to put this?
Where I will not lose it.” -
And there is was,
The first tablecloth that I had lost.
Phantasmagoria
Stalin
Trying to impersonate
Charlie Chaplin
Impersonating Hitler.
And Lincoln over in the corner
Trying to impersonate Ulysses S. Grant.
Stalin has plenty to do,
Moving quickly,
While Lincoln need only
Watch,
Act commandingly,
Tipsy
From the booze and cigars.
He coughs.
Wisdom
The wisdom
Of the redwood forest
Beating like a human heart.
Morning dew
Hesitant to be wet.
Galaxies ride the
Grandiose sky
Assured that not too much
Will be revealed.
Poets do their part,
Get in their cars
And go home.
Speakers
The audio speakers blare
Like a manic talker.
The kids are having a field day
Chasing each other around the house.
My wife is away at her networking group.
And me,
I’m making love
To my motorcycle
With wrenches.
Dad
Your cough was a splinter
Of wood one gets from planing
A two by four.
Your cough sounded your death
Early in the morning
Years before you died.
The devil picked up a hot pitchfork
And gave me your cough as a
Birthday gift, as a friend.
Every time I cough, Dad,
I think of you.
Yesterday, honestly,
A friend called to say:
I coughed, and thought of your Dad.
In Memory of Mina Loy3
A cough and cough medicine
We are all being too reasonable.
What ever happened to
Umbrellas made out of water
Plastic toys that sweat and cry
And hold political views
And are made out of wood and steel.
The cut grass from your lawn mower
Flying to New Guinea to build a hut.
Light
The streetlight is my moon.
And the headlights are my moons.
I drive around all night,
Feeding from the light of my moons.
I am always hungry and always full.
Delicate
There was
A delicate shrub,
Too,
Next to the house.
tiny flowers,
pink and yellow.
The Sidewalks
The sidewalks themselves.
Concrete paths through the park,
The sidewalks are there for passers by,
Those who wish to dismiss
The beauty of nature in their busy day.
Plants
A large hardy shrub.
Tiny
Delicate
Yellow flowers.
Can you write a poem better than this?
Driving Home Past the Laundry
Two young people
Walking
Into
The light
Of the Laundry.
He slapped her
Across the face.
No One
No one speculates
As I slip my arm into the shoulder
Of this dinner jacket
I am bored with nights on the town,
The oak tree smiles at me
In the moonlight
As I close the car door,
And hide behind
The dark glass
The Blossoming Garden
My blossoming garden
Has its tragedy.
One plant, an iceberg rose
Won’t grow,
Perhaps
It will not live.
Each night I go
In
From the garden
The Iceberg rose
Is with me.
Funeral
Nothing gets the attention
Of a family more so than
the death of the Mother.
Mom, laid out in the parlor,
Starkly white.
Jeb can hardly stay angry at
Willis during the moments
Of Mom’s funeral.
There will be plenty of time
For fist fights
And drunken
Brawls
Early tomorrow morning.
Plateau
The moment of Death
The shock makes the earth
Flat,
Death resides in
The earth’s temporary
And Uniform plateau.
Robert Kennedy was assassinated
And Dr. King before him,
And John Kennedy before him.
We can still dream,
Even in the face of death
We can still dream.
Reading4
The Full Emptiness
Between your fingers
Is indeed your fingers
Light Snow
Light snow
Fills the sky.
Disappears
Touching the earth.
The Bird
The bird
Lifted its wings
Said good bye
to the tree branch
Coal Miners
Coal miners
Wearing their famous
Coal mining faces.
Haul themselves
Out of the mines
Over to the drinking halls.
Hanging
Hanging from the tree
His neck quite broken.
His neck at an odd angle
To the rest of his body
Blade
The common safety razor,
So safe,
Nothing can possibly happen,
Especially a decent shave.
The Stripper
The stripper starts her walk to the bank.
Looking both ways before
Stepping off the curb.
Stepping gingerly into the pedestrian crosswalk.
She puts one foot in front of the other.
That’s the way to walk across a street.
Tuesday
On Friday night,
I met a woman
Named Tuesday.
Tall, lanky, and attractive.
I felt good,
Standing at the bar,
Buying a drink for her.
I knew my place.
I thanked her
For the conversation
And walked away.
Small Boy
A small boy,
In a thick blue sweater
Going through the garbage
In the early morning mist.
School Time
Looking over at the object
With the incredibly long spotted neck –
In this case her husband –
The Mother Giraffe, tries
Her best to
Get a decent breakfast
Down the kids
And get them
Off to school.
Teddy
Opening his mouth,
Opening his tongue,
Teddy struggles with putting his
Coat on, and finally
Walking out the door,
Teddy turns to the large
Picture of his mother.
Anger
The anger
Tenaciously
Hangs on,
Like a tick
Deep under the skin.
Nobody Knows
Somebody knows
Why the turn of the leaf
Goes unnoticed.
Living in plain view,
Close to my shoulder,
His job is to
Perpetuate the myth that
Nobody knows
Why the turn of the leaf
Goes unnoticed.
1Hermes (pronounced /ˈhɜrmiːz/; Greek Ἑρμῆς) is the Messenger of the gods in Greek mythology as well as a guide to the Underworld for lost souls. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hermes October 1, 2009 )
2 Poet, Painter, Musician of the 1940’s and 50’s who disappeared
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weldon_Kees - October 1, 2009 )
3 A poet (1882 – 1966 ) with a very original style.
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mina_Loy - October 1, 2009 )
4 After Reading Ryokan The Essential Zen, pg 7 – date unknown
Copyright 1998-2009 by Marc Isaac Potter
Frogs enjoy respecting
The boundaries of lovers
In the Ohio Moon light.
Deer try their best
Not to get caught in the headlights
Lovers returning from the woods
Zen Leaf
A leaf turns
Every
Where.
Nothing I Can Find
I even looked
Under the tablecloth.
There is no tablecloth
So I went out and bought another one.
When I came home I said,
“Where is a good place to put this?
Where I will not lose it.” -
And there is was,
The first tablecloth that I had lost.
Phantasmagoria
Stalin
Trying to impersonate
Charlie Chaplin
Impersonating Hitler.
And Lincoln over in the corner
Trying to impersonate Ulysses S. Grant.
Stalin has plenty to do,
Moving quickly,
While Lincoln need only
Watch,
Act commandingly,
Tipsy
From the booze and cigars.
He coughs.
Wisdom
The wisdom
Of the redwood forest
Beating like a human heart.
Morning dew
Hesitant to be wet.
Galaxies ride the
Grandiose sky
Assured that not too much
Will be revealed.
Poets do their part,
Get in their cars
And go home.
Speakers
The audio speakers blare
Like a manic talker.
The kids are having a field day
Chasing each other around the house.
My wife is away at her networking group.
And me,
I’m making love
To my motorcycle
With wrenches.
Dad
Your cough was a splinter
Of wood one gets from planing
A two by four.
Your cough sounded your death
Early in the morning
Years before you died.
The devil picked up a hot pitchfork
And gave me your cough as a
Birthday gift, as a friend.
Every time I cough, Dad,
I think of you.
Yesterday, honestly,
A friend called to say:
I coughed, and thought of your Dad.
In Memory of Mina Loy3
A cough and cough medicine
We are all being too reasonable.
What ever happened to
Umbrellas made out of water
Plastic toys that sweat and cry
And hold political views
And are made out of wood and steel.
The cut grass from your lawn mower
Flying to New Guinea to build a hut.
Light
The streetlight is my moon.
And the headlights are my moons.
I drive around all night,
Feeding from the light of my moons.
I am always hungry and always full.
Delicate
There was
A delicate shrub,
Too,
Next to the house.
tiny flowers,
pink and yellow.
The Sidewalks
The sidewalks themselves.
Concrete paths through the park,
The sidewalks are there for passers by,
Those who wish to dismiss
The beauty of nature in their busy day.
Plants
A large hardy shrub.
Tiny
Delicate
Yellow flowers.
Can you write a poem better than this?
Driving Home Past the Laundry
Two young people
Walking
Into
The light
Of the Laundry.
He slapped her
Across the face.
No One
No one speculates
As I slip my arm into the shoulder
Of this dinner jacket
I am bored with nights on the town,
The oak tree smiles at me
In the moonlight
As I close the car door,
And hide behind
The dark glass
The Blossoming Garden
My blossoming garden
Has its tragedy.
One plant, an iceberg rose
Won’t grow,
Perhaps
It will not live.
Each night I go
In
From the garden
The Iceberg rose
Is with me.
Funeral
Nothing gets the attention
Of a family more so than
the death of the Mother.
Mom, laid out in the parlor,
Starkly white.
Jeb can hardly stay angry at
Willis during the moments
Of Mom’s funeral.
There will be plenty of time
For fist fights
And drunken
Brawls
Early tomorrow morning.
Plateau
The moment of Death
The shock makes the earth
Flat,
Death resides in
The earth’s temporary
And Uniform plateau.
Robert Kennedy was assassinated
And Dr. King before him,
And John Kennedy before him.
We can still dream,
Even in the face of death
We can still dream.
Reading4
The Full Emptiness
Between your fingers
Is indeed your fingers
Light Snow
Light snow
Fills the sky.
Disappears
Touching the earth.
The Bird
The bird
Lifted its wings
Said good bye
to the tree branch
Coal Miners
Coal miners
Wearing their famous
Coal mining faces.
Haul themselves
Out of the mines
Over to the drinking halls.
Hanging
Hanging from the tree
His neck quite broken.
His neck at an odd angle
To the rest of his body
Blade
The common safety razor,
So safe,
Nothing can possibly happen,
Especially a decent shave.
The Stripper
The stripper starts her walk to the bank.
Looking both ways before
Stepping off the curb.
Stepping gingerly into the pedestrian crosswalk.
She puts one foot in front of the other.
That’s the way to walk across a street.
Tuesday
On Friday night,
I met a woman
Named Tuesday.
Tall, lanky, and attractive.
I felt good,
Standing at the bar,
Buying a drink for her.
I knew my place.
I thanked her
For the conversation
And walked away.
Small Boy
A small boy,
In a thick blue sweater
Going through the garbage
In the early morning mist.
School Time
Looking over at the object
With the incredibly long spotted neck –
In this case her husband –
The Mother Giraffe, tries
Her best to
Get a decent breakfast
Down the kids
And get them
Off to school.
Teddy
Opening his mouth,
Opening his tongue,
Teddy struggles with putting his
Coat on, and finally
Walking out the door,
Teddy turns to the large
Picture of his mother.
Anger
The anger
Tenaciously
Hangs on,
Like a tick
Deep under the skin.
Nobody Knows
Somebody knows
Why the turn of the leaf
Goes unnoticed.
Living in plain view,
Close to my shoulder,
His job is to
Perpetuate the myth that
Nobody knows
Why the turn of the leaf
Goes unnoticed.
1
2 Poet, Painter, Musician of the 1940’s and 50’s who disappeared
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weldon_Kees - October 1, 2009 )
3 A poet (1882 – 1966 ) with a very original style.
( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mina_Loy - October 1, 2009 )
4 After Reading Ryokan The Essential Zen, pg 7 – date unknown
Copyright 1998-2009 by Marc Isaac Potter