blithering bookstore :
always bullfinch
fanatical melange of meditation
victorian tippytoe
downwind flatus
grievous prospect for luridness
pyrophobia ; remodeled
hallelujah !
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • August 3–9, 2026)
Listen...
The night seems paused,
Like the hunter downwind its happless prey;
A silence crouched in a quiet.
It lend to itself a stealth that in these shadows lay,
We may be better off to follow its lead.
Let us duck beyond the reed,
Let the gentle brook bicker over us,
And lend our tongues to monastic solitudes,
And vows of silence,
And speak not till nature finds herself
A newer cause,
Or the dawn vanquishes the need.
And the cock crows,
Midst the hollow stems and lovage weed.
Ah, the life of a cut-purse—
Ere such audition e'er dreamt the need rehearse.
"Life accompanies error,"
And we are full of its merry bliss
How ere it come to this?
A frog atop its lily
Staring at us, so silly.
By so late an hour,
Clowns before rogues—
"And all wet."
The clever night has made us its jest
Let us retreat from fen to den:
A warm hearth and dry clothes,
And conceal our conciet,
For ere the wind of rumor blows
And give nock to doors and wake windows,
Inviting eyes to spy our predicament,
And see where our path lent tself
To such wasteful end
1. A Chihuahua, a Pekinese, and a wolf, all circle a tree, sniff, and pee.
But only the wolf circles back and covers its tracks.
2. Even today, there may be more than one species of man.
That might explain why some “develop” real estate
And others are happy to trek across untamed land.
3. What does a tree say about you? (Never mind what we say about them.)
4. If a child was bent on destruction, and later as youth and man, he bullied the rabbit, razed the hill, and broke the creek, then we have us a psychological problem.
5. A fox in a man is not the same thing that a fox around his neck.
6. There are things one can do about gophers and pesky deer.
There are things one can do about men in black suits and shiny shoes
That read your land on a map.
7. There is little that nature can do against raping men except whisper
“Help” downwind.
Downwind of the
Halal Cart
my stomach
starts to growl
Foreign smells
have filled the air
my appetite
to prowl
Those places
I have yet to go
but memory
knows so well
Another life
another time
where Heaven
— sleeps with Hell
(The Corner Of 34th & Market Streets: July, 2025)
Downwind
of my perception
Upwind
before the fall
Immune
in my protection
From dullards
at the mall
The past
remains in focus
The future
but a myth
My words
fall out of judgment
Each phrasing
to enrich
To read
with understanding
To hear
beyond the din
To feel
beyond the senses
To love
beyond the rim
Released
without containment
On wings
not leased or loaned
Into
the inner sanctums
With time
— Goliath’s stone
(The New Room: June, 2025)
My poem is a metaphor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We went swimming in total passion beneath the moonlight. The reflections of love drowned by the eye of God. Your attempts to dry me left me breathless, my reputation saved on the bridge before us.
I walk wondering why I deserved all this, tasting teardrops in the early morning rain. The storm it fills the lake beneath the bridge, leaving me downwind to its fresh scent.
Ladies of the evening tease the lake, their toes dangling from the bridge. The eye of God turns away. "Look at me gal, all I can do is tell you I'm sorry." "Look at me boy my lips are burning with fire, so is the bridge."
Can you get home by yourself from here?
I will try, I will try, I will never give up,
God will guide me from here.
The flames burn brighter,
I can see the lake clearly now.
The pickup
ready to roll
stalls at the green light
shaking, smoking.
I am the driver
downwind.
Beep beep…behind me,
beep beep…behind them.
The fog clears -
I see the middle child
like a foghorn;
I speak out loud
to no one
but me, “It wasn’t me.”
I did not beep beep
out a morse code
curse. My reward -
the calm of the storm.
Fumes fill the pickup,
and other such vehicles,
like a garbage truck. They
turn left and right.
The middle child
upended, relaxes,
its message pronounced,
loud and clear,
to the wrong
rear.
A blue watercolor washes in brilliant white
sky in the sunshine while you lose sight;
melting into the sea soothing ride downwind
rumbling spindrift of the waves by the wind.
Mama and her six-kitten stand on the pier,
on a fishing net, watching their biggest fear.
They're being left behind, abandon, alone nobody near.
Their family leaving on a luxury liner
navigating out; believed there was no love finer.
Unconditional embracing love, cease to be.
Farewell pleading meows drawn-out towards the sea.
when expelling demons and sin ~ do exorcists stand up or downwind
To run from today
or hide from tomorrow,
the ultimate hunter,
time waiting downwind
Each day is a stalking,
your tracks to betray you,
escape out of season
—the wolf closing in
(Sacandaga Lake, New York: January, 2022)
Sleeping inside my fury,
the predators keep away
Passing downwind of my ire,
seeking lesser prey
My strength is wrapped around me,
no more armor do I need
The fangs of lions, bears, and wolves,
break upon my sleeve
My campfire roars in anger,
the birds have stilled their wings
The tracks of blood I left today,
tomorrow’s path to bring
As ruler of this forest,
my range the great divide
To those who hear me coming
—upon whose fear I thrive
(Dreamsleep: January, 2022)
Whatever happened to common sense
when did we all become so dense
ya can’t fall off an un-sat fence
dreaming of why and where and whence
trying to figure out farthings and pence
trapped in a world of hereafter and hence
can’t really recall but it’s been that way since
we o’erthrew the king to favor the prince
expecting pure satin – wound up with cheap chintz
our armor now rusted, bloodless, with dents
thrown out of our houses we now live in tents
downwind from the castle’s hungerless scents
venom the substance of our effluence
fueled by delay of our just recompense
and for our actions offer no penitence
our fields long gone fallow wait in suspense
for the word of a dead king “let planting commence”
a king raised to power at our expense
John G. Lawless
©12/13/2021
(A COLLABORATION BY NATASHA L SCRAGG AND ROBERT JAMES LIGUORI)
The luscious, long, green grass
Sways and sweeps and flows.
How far, how fast will this wind travel?
No one really knows!
This same wind could stir up
Whirls and waves in all seas.
This powerful force makes nature dance.
Our senses this does please.
Though it can be disruptive
On a minor or major scale,
It can uproot trees, tear roofs off houses,
It can delay or prevent sails...
It still has its boundaries.
This can be assuring to all, to me and you.
We can't see the wind
But its effects are in plain view.
Sometimes the wind teases us,
Playing with our hair,
Or has us swatting at thistles and leaves
Flying through the air.
The wind can be kind,
Tell to us our coffee's hot.
Or to move our rude cigar,
From its blowing spot.
Wind can be a gentle reminder,
To put on our kid's jacket
Or to lower our voice,
During a downwind racket.
It is always there soft or strong
And never with a hue, that is...
We can't see the wind
But its effects are in plain view.
The luscious, long, green grass
Sways and sweeps and flows.
How far, how fast this wind will travel,
No one really knows!
This same wind could stir up
Whirls and waves in all seas.
This powerful force makes nature dance.
Our senses this does please.
Though it can be disruptive
On a minor or major scale,
It can uproot trees, tear roofs off houses,
It can delay or prevent sails...
It still has its boundaries.
This can be assuring to all, to me and you.
We can't see the wind,
But it's effects are in plain view.
Sometimes this wind teases us,
Playing with our hair,
Or has us swatting at thistles and leaves,
Flying through the air.
The wind can also be so kind,
To tell us our coffee's hot.
Or to move our rude cigar,
From it's blowing spot.
Wind can be a gentle reminder,
To put on our kid's jacket,
Or to lower our voice,
During a downwind racket.
It is always there soft or strong,
And never with a hue, that is...
We can't see the wind,
But it's effects are in plain view.
19-September-2021
her eyes have seen
a thousand roads
each downwind of the other
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