Something’s happening, let’s call it sunrise, for now,
and summer vacation in Geneva, in umm.. 10 hours.
My heart-beat is spiking, like a flag or kite flying.
I’m leaving an empty room - making one last pass with a broom.
I’m stuffing my bag, with the last few things, for escape on aluminum wings.
My dreams, woven in bright, butterfly tapestries, are rolled and folded -
packed between urgent fantasies and harsh, time-sensitive practicalities.
I know you’re there, a quarter-world away, good news, pegasus awaits,
to streak gulf-stream high, over choppy oceans wide with mechanical fire,
its ice-cycle crystal contrail points, like cherub cupid's arrow, toward you.
Forget pixels, tech instruments, remote lifeline connections,
and prayer-like whispers over thin, criss-crossed wires.
I’m making my move, coming compass-needle true,
to press up close, reintroduce, extemporize and seduce.
.
.
music for this:
Someday by Sugar Ray
sunburn by almost monday
This Charming Man by The Smiths
Heaven by Los Lonely Boys
Divorce robbed him of surprise,
left him disused,
parts of his brain tingled less,
he grew blasé, he had to improvise,
extemporize parts
that were less prone to rust and mold.
It seemed he was a bare broom,
one that could no longer sweep away
a rising sense of purposeless.
Then it was that a new surprise found him,
he began to make yesteryear trinkets
knickknacks held together
with a duct-taped nostalgia.
Walking sticks and old-school picket fences
were carved from the bones of his memory.
Other doohickeys such as
paperweights for light-headed ideas,
or knickknacks to fill in
those awkward holes in people’s lives.
Success returned, so did a new wife.
She had a lever, a jack,
to hydraulicly lift him up
when he occasionally sagged.
She used superglue on all his loose bits.
It’s wonderful what a new lick of paint can do.
It was a Sunday morning in June, how well I recall
I stood in the pulpit with my morning sermon in print
When all of a sudden I began to extemporize
A moment never to be forgotten--never at all!
I was telling about an event that had angered me
When I accidentally let a shameful curse word slip
The congregation of worshippers fell deathly silent
I wanted to grab my sermon notes and hurriedly flee.
The silence continued for several minutes, I thought,
While I stammered and stuttered and tried to apologize
But it was too late, whatever the damage, it was done
While some composure, a recovery I quickly sought.
Then, suddenly the quick-witted organist played a riff
And I heard a raucous laughter rising up from the pews
I realized the silence had been broken just in time
For my people to know that their young pastor was no stiff!
written May 10, 2021
for "The Audience Falls Silent" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann