summer supper time
cream peas and new potatoes
fresh from the garden
Showing posts with label sj welker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sj welker. Show all posts
everly's poem
down stairs is below the ocean
the ceiling is the surface
we swim across the room
and join the mermaid circus
remember a time
i'm trying to remember a time
a time when we could breathe
deeply
slowly
peacefully
was there ever really such a time
i'm trying to remember a time
a time when things moved
readily easily
peacefully
was there ever really such a time
i'm trying to remember a time
a time when people acted
graciously mindfully
peacefully
was there ever really such a time
i'm trying to remember a time
a time before his time
a time i can't remember
was there ever really such a time
silence is a poem that repeats itself
silence is a poem
that repeats itself
alone and still
sitting on a page
waiting patiently
for a reader to come along
and once read
falls silent again
waiting patiently
for a reader to come along
and once read
falls silent again
silence is a poem
that repeats itself...
hubcap
he was a tall slim black kid
late twenties maybe younger
wore round wire rim glasses
made him appear smarter than
his conversation revealed
everybody called him hubcap
he worked at the lumberyard
same as his grandfather
never dated never married
never left town
everybody called him hubcap
he stayed at his grandfather’s place
by the river on marblehead road
a four room farmhouse with a cellar
an outhouse and a barn
everybody called him hubcap
nobody knew how many he had
nobody knew when he started
rumor was his grandfather collected them too
they covered the barn inside and out
hung on all the fence posts along the property line
everybody called him hubcap
fool's rhyme
one poem for you
one poem for me
is that the way
it’s meant to be
are you the sea
am i the sky
are we the poets
passing by
the poets who
choose suicide
before the sea
and sky collide
and when the time
has come at last
will we watch
the moment pass
will we gently
close the door
turn out the lights
and write no more
should our story stay untold
should our guarded hearts be bold
should we chase our destiny
or stay and write more poetry
stalemate
let’s call it a draw
and walk away
from this cliché
let’s spread our wings
stretch our legs
kick the dust off our boots
grab a breath of fresh air
let's do all those things people do
when they don’t know what else to do
everything is changing
let’s change too
dickens of a time
it was the beginning and it was the end
mostly it was the middle it was the past and it was the future
mostly it was the present
it was yesterday and it was tomorrow
mostly it was today
it was before and it was after
mostly it was between
it was then and it was when
mostly it was now
it was what and it was if
mostly it was this
destiny poem
as you scroll
through the fog
(should i say smog)
of internet poetry
let the winds of destiny
(sounds poetic, doesn't it?)
guide you
the wings of destiny
perhaps
not the hands of destiny
(the hands belong to fate, right?)
manifest destiny
destiny taking a turn
controlling your destiny
discovering this poem
minnesota sunset poem
do you remember
the sunset we watched
sitting on our balcony
in minnesota
when you read this poem
remember that sunset
easter poem
easter time in juarez
and bob dylan's on the radio
singing a song about it
tomorrow we return to work
easter time and tom thumb's blues
ringing in our ears
blue jays
we're like blue jays
you and i
unlike those other birds
who mate and fly
we stay together
till we die
we're like blue jays
you and i
modern marriage
man and wife
against the world
raising children
raising grandchildren
in and out of love
are you still awake
going to a funeral
everafter
comfortable silence
 |
| March 31, 1956 |
when my father and i
fished roy hazard’s pond
in the early evenings
of early summer
we would sit
beside each other
silently casting our lines
into the reflection
of the sunset
on the water
even in the car
on the way home
we let the sunset
do our talking
i knew everything i needed to know
in that comfortable silence
when my father and i
fished roy hazard’s pond
in the early evenings
of early summer
mister starkey
mister starkey
rock and roll was born
inside your heart
neverending rhythms
giving you another name
opening another door
sitting on top of the world
trapped within your destiny
always smiling
rocking with your mates
rolling with the beat
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