Stopping in an alley on a summer day
rainbow trash exhaling its hot fetid breath
a scamper of invisible residents
searching for the remains of elegant dining
the Nordic hum of struggling A/C units
as an evening sun seems to avoid entry
music drifts from an open window
slowly fades in the humidity
peeking over my shoulder
I slide behind the dumpster…
The raindrops fall into the paper cup of tea
The teabag shrinks as if it could be my remark
Unlatch the green door to the childlike mystery
It’s possible again to enter that old park
The busts and statues of the gods and greats
And shaded benches in the niches of the trees
There in the memory another alley waits
I haven’t walked on it to see where to it leads
Oh no! Those wobbly slabs I’ve walked before
The seagulls cry, the wind blows up the sand
Then comes the sound of the muted piano chords
I’ve no idea why I hear this again.
Alley-Oop
WHO
TOLD
YOU
THAT
YOU
WERE
NAKED!!!
"She Did,"
Adam Said...
"What?"
-Gray Squirrel
06-03-2025
Her broken rules
Couldn't feel the same
Tastes of choices
I gave no way
Broke back when it ended
She learned over him
I defended
Another's warm weather
Her level, hurt
Nothing to train it
A societies blemish
Miss prepared
No loves an affair
Gradually
Losing
Being worthed
Inventions
Untapped muscles
Repressed records
One day
Forgotten
Another's stain
Unbothered
In the old graveled alley, overgrown with weeds,
at footfall, locusts sprang and leaped,
triggering a riot.
But soon their swelling motion
subsided like fried popcorn on a skillet.
Hungry rats watched the dumpster fire awaiting a hot meal
a goliath frog
ancestor of devil frog
scary in alleys
ebony like a puma, velvet pretty
she prowls and growls and moans in her sleep
like a little black dress, fashionably chic and insightful
there is purring now, her dreams might have shifted
the toms in the alley remain in hiding, fearful
she can be such a tease, and sometimes a torment
her scratches are serious; she is not afraid to bite
the howling and growling is back
alley cat of Allentown
alley cats screeching
summer breezes waft the sounds
~ as if castrated
I like the sound these funny shoes
make slapping on the wood,
I’m no league-bowler, that’s for sure,
but most folks say I’m good.
My buds and I meet here sometimes
to bowl a couple frames,
which mostly means beer and nachos,
a break to keep us sane.
The kids are off at the arcade,
and yes, they still have one,
playing games that I have to say
were old when I was young.
Bob is probably the best of us,
rolled a 280 once,
while Edgar truly stinks at it,
but plays just for the fun.
The balls always give me trouble,
holes too big or too small,
some seem like they’re drilled for children,
fingers don’t fit at all!
When we star we’re still competent,
bring in the strikes and spaces,
but the beer brings some gutter-balls,
at least they’re done with flair.
Thank God our wives can drive us home,
they’re up in the case,
gossiping about this and that
in their usual way.
May not be the crazy night life
they promote on TC,
but there’s good reason we have so
many bowling alleys.
I snap into the sky and see,
The sparkling cityscape.
I zap awake.
Stumbling once again.
Stumped once again.
Adjusting to the alley that was once a speck of scenery.
The lights aren’t sparkling.
The lights are flickering again.
What I thought was harmony and music-
Is just scrapping and dripping and howling.
This is an alley.
Of the city.
Until I snap into the sky again.
Until then, I hum the song from my dreams.
I first heard about Teacup Spigot Alley from my cousin Sally.
She had been there many times to sip tea and dilly dally.
Two pink macaws were slurping down sugar lemon tea.
One gave me a peck, the other completely ignored me.
Are those faeries? I asked my cousin Sally, who knows all.
She laughed at my ignorance, but her tale was told tall.
Wingless faeries? She said Who ever heard of such a thing?
We slurped down peach schnapps tea, it had a wonderful zing!
garbage smells
hungry rats
alley woes
laughter though
family
of people
homeless yes
having fun
unified
Life met me in the alley, shattered and torn,
As if violated by cruel invaders’ scorn.
But I gathered her broken fragments, piece by piece,
And adorned her with flowers, seeking love and peace.
Now she dances beside me, a vibrant display,
In meadows and valleys, on mountains that sway.
She has fallen in love, her heart intertwined with mine,
Yet, a constant fear lingers in a sad shrine.
I tremble at the thought of losing her,
She wraps her arms around me, whispers in my ear,
“Embrace the pleasures of now, let worries subside,
For in this present moment, true joy does reside.”
Her words echo softly, a gentle reminder to cherish,
Each moment I’m given, each memory I nourish.
I hold her closer, the fear begins to fade,
As I dance through her serenade.
With each step in this dance, I am reborn,
In the rhythm of now, new paths are sworn.
For surrendering to the present’s gentle sway,
Unlocks the power to seize life’s precious day.
…
Moon croon's gray mumbles
Fevered cats flash and tumble
Blessed sleep crumbles
________
NOTES:
Rhyming haiku is like blending cultures. The origin of the form carries a particular religious or spiritual component which most American poems I've read seem ignorant of.
Asking Google® to "hold-forth" on the subject retrieves the following:
"Haiku is not just an art form, but a spiritual discipline, like yoga or Zen Buddhist meditation. In its highest realization, haiku is a poem of extraordinary aesthetic and spiritual beauty that captures a profound and balanced moment of insight, resolution and order."
Dear reader: I hope I've ruined it for you.
Yours truly;
Lingua Looms
Related Poems