Free Verse Poems

Aching absence of love

The dawn is here,
                   Lighting up the sky
           And the birds are chirping 
       But my heart's in deep slumber.
 

I Never Even Heard of a Serger

my sister sews
Has a Cadillac of a sewing machine
it cost as much as her first house

it has gadgets, dials, electronic commands
intimidates me

She plunks me in front of a serger
I never even heard of a serger before now
I am going to have to look up how to spell it

On a regular sewing machine, you do not

spirit message

red cardinal hops onto tiny branch of lilac tree
it’s near dusk
at first, I thought he was a shadow creature
my eye caught a glimpse of his dark movements
his feathers are scarlet
he hops a bit, then flies off
a spirit message?
Mayhaps

boom

dogs and I sit on their porch
sniffing lilacs in the country air
relaxed, unhurried, unworried

BOOM!
fireworks or a gun?
everything changes

story of a box

pristine sharp cornered brown box garnishes excitement
we rip him open with anticipation
new merchandise has been delivered!

this box is repurposed for sorting, carrying, hauling, storing
left out in the rain, the box looks sad and sorrowful
we could fold him flat and put him into our dumpster

Or we could burn him up
He has lost his usefulness
difficult to remember

honey bee house

Would you be willing to have a honey bee house?
My cousin said yes to this.
bees could choose a plethora of flowers in her yard
Acres of flowers
she has only seen one honey bee near them
But many yellow and black bumblebees
Are the bumblebees bullies? Thugs?
The honeybees stay close to their bee house
It is curious
I will transmogrify into

the doll stare

There are forty-eight dolls in this guest room
I see them staring at me
Many wear porcelain bonnets
They are statues with accusing faces
I wonder if they came from Salem
I feel they have come for me

regular people

It is 3:48 a.m.
regular people are sleeping.
Proof that I am irregular
Just one more nail in my coffin
I stare at the clock
3:49, 3:50, 3:51, 3:52, 3:53
Maybe this will lull me to sleep
3:56, 3:57, 3:58, 3:59, 4:00
My whistling and wheezing have returned
4:03, 4:04, 4:05, 4:06, 4:07,
Twenty minutes of idiocy
Regular people are sleeping

Fall from love to death

It started with a smile
A true love a dirty deep love
Panda dunks and bands flying 
Clubs and soft skin
Past in the can can you remember

He was so sweet so loving
You wouldnt see it coming
The slow poison 
Shes living live laughs jokes with his boys and then

He snapped

The bruise ripened like the fake fruit that sat

The Vatican Library

It was the last Sunday of the month,
when Providence opened its secret door,
and my longing was granted.

I walked through marble corridors
into the heart of the Vatican Library,
where time breathes softly between the pages.

I asked for only one treasure:
the Vatican Virgil,
that ancient manuscript of immortal verse.
And when it was placed in my hands,
the air shifted—
the walls

Aisle Constitution

Free formed American letters
Aisled constitution 
Assent
Report
Confer
Signature of alphabet.

Legislation 
Derivative of signatures
Posthaste
Carriage
Distribution of wages
Post War Conference

Numerical Assignments concur
Exchange of freedom 
Mandated registration for return


Postmaster
Post mastered
Door frame
Hearth

Circulation of the times
Of America 
Objective as Coordinate

Heartbeat of time

It wasn't the broken fence that shows me how fragile things can be
It wasn't the wilted flower that shows me how easily things die
It is the seed, the bud, the bloom, the baby in the stroller ...
the beginning of life and the beginning of a day
It is the fresh start, the clean slate, the sunrise

For Life Demands It

I have read a lot of books
Not sure what I remember of them
Written a lot of poetry
Yet cannot recite any of it

I have lived a lot of days
Faint memories entwined
In fluffed and softened lies
I cannot unentangle them

I have loved and been loved
Shared the pain and joy of both
Inhaled the breath of generations
Destined to remember me

I

It's Night

It’s night

The moon shines coldly
An otherworldly light lives in my room
The quiet night noise of the city is music
Beautiful, unique atmosphere. This is also London

I wonder where the wind goes

I wonder where the wind goes
To be alone
To listen
To the whispers
Of idle leaves
Eavesdrop on the 
Ripples of the pond
Succumb to the silence
Of nature’s hum
Huddle in the shade
With un-tumbling tumbleweeds
Vagabonds sharing a story
In a dusty train yard

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