Defining Moments
The Beach
In wispy waves
like a child's giggling whisper
the music reaches my ears
the pounding surf
the screeching gulls
the indecisive wind
it calms me
slows me down
I dance with the melody
my toes curl around the sand
my eye catches a glimmering shell
my soul is restored
Shoes
Even though I'm too unsure
to approach you directly
my heart cries out to you.
You, the man riding past me
on your rickety bicycle
in the middle of winter
with no shoes on.
I want you to have shoes.
I want to buy you the shiniest
most comfortable shoes I can find.
How can you come to have no shoes?
What brought you to this place in your life?
Why do I hesitate to interrupt your low mutterings
and offer a willing ear?
I let you pass by
without saying a word
and now you haunt my dreams.
I feel the icy coldness of your feet
and think it must match
what appeared to be the coldness of my heart.
Potential
by Sarah Tucker
Cool and clever,
What else would I be?
Receptive eyes--Green
like the trees
however, inside
raging, a mesh of wind shaking
yellow brown orange red
swirling thoughts racing for a grounding
finding nothing but a lengthy memory
Desiring only quietude solitude
One unachievable in this free America
a retreat to the forest is long overdue.
Fingers crossed hands stuffed in pockets
I am older longing for something better
in a preserve of holiness left
(the government has sectioned off just enough)
accepting that truth, fingers come un-stuffed from lint
feeling wind instead
curly, copper hair blown
finger tips gently wiping the wisps off a forehead
full of sinus allergies and a dehydration headache.
The wind still talking through dying leaves
Heel Toe Heel Toe
Mindfulness enveloping
(Everything at once--
too many ideas at a time get lost)
so at this moment there is nothing
except the metal sound of cars rushing close by
proving the pointlessness of my attempt at escaping.
Disbelief a preserve has received me with open
Love-of-Mother's-Arms unconditionally
the smoker I am, polluting the air every puff
(but I won't throw the butt on the ground
like an irresponsible child learning laziness at every turn)
and I turn with gathered solace,
tired from the effort it takes to relieve stress nowadays
muttering "not enough nature in my backyard"
heel toe heel toe
cool and clever, what else would I be?
Metal keys jingling, leaves crinkling,
Climb into my green gas-consuming machine
the drive I have ahead of me
Potential waiting waiting
waiting
CBSNBCABCCNNMSNBCFOX
by Kenneth Pobo
A slow learner, I took
half a century to set
my set by the shed
before taking an ax
to split its head
open, used to think how
could I live without reruns,
a gardening show, especially
while I munched popcorn
with the news--oil
and chem. companies,
Bushwars. A snazzy anchor
prop, a human face
to deliver lies--for years
I shouted back, till,
finally, I executed
the TV, sang as it died,
looking blank as always,
whether on or off, electric
splinters sinking under
wet grass.
Massachusetts
by Kenneth Pobo
"I will remember Massachusetts"
--The Bee Gees, 1967
They sang about the lights
going out in Massachusetts.
On November 18, 2003,
the lights turned on there--
I can marry Stan
by Provincetown's lighthouse. Wow,
America's dark cave
lets in a little light--oh,
pink roses I see, faintly,
from its entrance.
God and the Great Green Salamander
by P.D. Casteel
I can't prove that there is a God
Why should I go through the strain?
The Giant Green Salamander
tends to be more on my brain.
When I was an eight-year-old boy,
Gramps told me in all candor:
there awaits beyond the grave a
Giant Green Salamander.
He said the great amphibian
will forever masticate
the dead in its malicious jaws.
Can I prove this beast awaits?
Proof isn't needed to escape.
Belief in its existence
is the key that will set you free.
I think this small penitence.
Yes, I believe in this giant
that awaits in the abyss.
I consider Pascal's wager,
And realize it applies to this.
Libellula Depressa (Dragonfly)
by Chris Patterson
It cannot be sustained,
this Dragonfly feeling.
Living for only 24 hours,
you'd like to imagine it
would feel like this,
elated, bobbing and floating
like a happy birthday mylar balloon.
If you try to grasp this kin
of Odonata, it becomes
crushed and wilted, you
cannot ensnare this
rapid dragonfly flight.
Instead you lift your head, and
let it go, watching it
fly into infinity, whispering
like a prayer...thank you
for those dragonfly kisses,
someday, please,
send me some more.