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Best Poems Written by John Fox

Below are the all-time best John Fox poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Caffeine Addict

This very morning when I awoke, I thought someone had played a joke. I checked the pot, it was bone dry. I checked the pantry and started to cry - no coffee!

So, I got dressed for work...real slow. I had no drive, no pep, no go. I drove to work, barely awake - I wanted to stop but I was already late - no coffee!

I parked the car and walked inside, but when I heard the news I almost died. The vendor took the machine away, and it damned sure won't be back today - no coffee!

The boss said that we should not worry, he'd send for caffeine in a hurry. But when it arrived, in thermos bright, it seemed to lack the usual bite of coffee.

No Columbian or Kona blend, nor even French roast dwelt within. It was a mix, exotic flavors, that only yuppie scum could savor - not coffee!

A mocha-chino-berry stink that no one in that crowd would drink. That morning dragged incessantly, and no one acted pleasantly - no coffee!

When lunch time came we fled the scene of the luke-warm, slurpy, berry thing. We marched down to the restaurant and told the waitress, "All we want is coffee"!

By end of day no one was tired. The caffeine high had everyone wired. I've learned my lesson, oh so well, that without coffee life is hell. And I'm an addict, monster, fiend, and slave unto the coffee bean - yeah, coffee.

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A Aworld Away

By its very nature it is romantic and inspired. It sends out a message to snuggle ever closer. Thinkers are blessed by the lack of distraction, and dreamers are, now and then, prolific with its abundance.
     Its arrival is a security blanket for poets-an inspiration for their moods. We are those that let it do our running from the humdrum of the ordinary. No other force in nature is so powerful, so all-encompassing, so awe inspiring, and so kind. Unwanted forces can only penetrate the veil fleetingly, then disappear from sight and sound.
     The appearance is unstoppable and, for us dreamers and poets, most welcome. Dreams are real if only for the moment. Difference disappears, as does sameness. A million tiny get-a-ways are yours for the seeking; minute worlds populated by one or two.
     I cherish these moments of arrival for it covers the real world and seems to balance nature. When its task is done it departs slowly, cautiously. It is gone, but it lets you know it will return and diminish your problems once again.
     Hurry back, fog...hurry back.

19 Nov 1990

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Which Way To Go

We feed each other.
We need each other.
I am not ambitious, but I do have habits to fulfill.
She has only one habit - me, but she is ambitious, and conscientious,
and dedicated to family.

If I am honest I will admit that my "want" is much more than my need.
Her want is equal to her need, and her needs are her life - 
I am one of those needs.

I was a creature headed for the roads - no anchor.
She says she saved me from some great mis-spent life,
and perhaps she is right.
All my short adult life had been survival (at different levels),
not enjoyment - contentment is a brief act, seldom repeated.

We all exist, day-to-day, living in patterns.
She knows I could exist in other worlds,
at lower levels of humanity (if not morality).
She can exist only in her world.
I have grown fat and comfortable in her world.
I have too many possessions - or they have me.
Most of it I could do without, because I know what I can do with only basic needs.

Sometimes I still long for the roads--
for the loneliness--
for the soft carpets of grass and sod--
for the silence of a forest clearing--
for the clear, cold nights--
for my independence.
Lights in the distance - far distance...
but, I love her.

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Sitting Alone

Sitting alone in the dark and waiting.
Will she understand when I tell her...when I try to explain?
Probably she will, for she knows my weaknesses and my foibles.
Than won't make it any easier to admit it, though, 
as I have been forced to do so many times in the past.
I hear her in the driveway now.
She'll open the door in the dark and know
that something is wrong...again.
She enters and tentatively says, "Honey, what's wrong?
Why are you sitting in the dark like this?"
Knowing that the sooner I admit my failings the better,
I steel myself for the moment of truth and say,
"Do you know where in the hell I put the fuses?"

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On Days Like This

On days like this I want to play; I want to have some fun.
Instead I'm stuck here at this desk, three doorways from the sun.
Gray walls become a fortress tall, ensuring no distraction.
A thousand cubicles so small that I've become a fraction.
There's life beyond the corporate wall, beyond this cold concrete,
and people breathing freer air, and soaking up the heat.
A mountain stream, alive with trout - the snow line still receding.
An eagle calling to it's mate - these things I have been needing.
An empty highway, sundown bound...and moving.

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Weather Watch

Sky's all funky...dark and cloudy,
thunderstormin' weather brewin'.
Deep insidey, house all warmy - 
Coffee 'n cakes are what I'm doin'.

Don't be runnin' 'round outsidey,
Windy, rainy, get all wetty.
Hair all tangly, shoes all soaky,
face paint runnin', not so pretty.

Stay insidey from the weather,
in your beddy, comfy cozy.
Snuggle tightly, all carressy,
warm and happy 'round your toesies.

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Here's Your Hero

You wanted me to be a hero and go off and fight the war.
You wanted me to be a hero, but you didn't know what for.
So I became a hero and now I'm rolling through the door,
'cause this hero's got no arms or legs no more.

You wanted me to be a hero and do what heroes do.
You wanted me to stand up for the old Red, White and Blue.
Well now I'll do no standing, and my mind is wasted, too,
and with the drugs I'm taking I can't think of you.

You planned on all the money that I'd get from Uncle Sam.
That we'd get a set of wheels to let folks know that I'm the man.
Well I got some wheels and I'm motorized, almost like I planned,
but I steer my wheelchair with my chin 'cause I haven't any hands.

Though I smell of medication, and I'm living in a chair,
and I'm crippled in my body, and way beyond repair,
I'm trying to be a decent man, though I don't believe you care,
and you're half the reason of why I'm even there.

I know that I sound bitter, and I feel I've got that right,
'cause the truth is not that simple, and there is no guiding light.
So just let chance deal out the hand that takes me in the night,
and I'll no longer put up any fight.

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No Threat, No Sweat

As I gaze in the distance,
and center the sights,
I try to get a sharp visual...
damn these rainy nights.
Wit, now there's movement,
just a hair off to the right.
Then I squeeze my trigger
and my muzzle flashes bright.
That's one less threat to worry me
on this lonely, rainy night.

Details | John Fox Poem

Bridges

Where once I was, I long to be again.
     Where I felt so free,
     and I liked being me,
     and knew how it felt to have a friend.

Where I am now I'd like to change.
     Here, I feel so scared,
     and often quite impaired,
     and would like my life to rearrange.

In my early life I never worried so.
     But while my life evolved,
     my problems were not solved
     by always doing just what I wanted to.

Now I spend the countless hours of every day
     Like clouds that float,
     or an unmanned boat,
     willfully going with the stream, first this, and then that way.

So, when my life ends, I'll not be concerned.
     I will depart this useless tomb
     to enter yet another room,
     and smother fires of bridges not yet burned.