Geography Poems

The Geography of Your Absence

For my Mimi, Nana Pat, Nana Sue, Bumpa and Papa.
Whom I Miss Each and Every Day.

Where your laughter once carved bright rivers
Through the canyons of my days, 
Now silence pools in the hollows of my heart,
And your light-so singular-fades
To a thin gold haze, I cannot quite touch.
I wander these rooms that echo
With the hush you

After the Last Word

When I set out to write a love poem,
I imagine you as the crack before thunder
finds its voice, your breath
breaking the laws of gravity between us.

You are no angel—
but something that makes clocks forget
their purpose, your pulse
spelling your name beneath my skin.

The coffee cup you leave steaming near the sink
outlasts your absence by exactly seven

Terrible Geography

The mind has peaks
no Sherpa knows
sudden drops
where thoughts
thin out
like oxygen
at twenty thousand feet.

Avalanche thoughts
bury certainty. 
Your grip tears skin
on ice-sharp edges
of almost-understanding.

Below are the
crevasses deep 
as yesterday's regrets, 
echoing 
familiar voices
lost in white.

Wind cuts through
the space between
base camp comfort
and what
waits above 
the death zone.

Frostbite burns
circle your fingertips
the attempt
to hold 
what altitude
has already 
stolen.

Only the fallen
know

Grief's Geography

I map empty rooms,
marking them with your absence—
an atlas of loss.

MEGALOMANIA AMERICAN DREAM

          sans geography
      The USA is this world
        others, planets...

     Japan is Russia
        Brazil is in China
      

Coffee: The Greatest Of All Time

The little humble bean
that found its way into a cup
made a splash upon the scene
after Kaldi’s goat had stirred it up

it travelled fast and well
from Ethiopia to Yemen
some called it the drink from hell
until Clement became a fan.

the aroma crossed the pond
and Boston had to celebrate
once the New World had succumbed 
it quickly poured out

Elegy to a promised land

In the quiet twilight, we gather here today,  
To honor my dad, remember him, and pray.  
From the promised land, he flew with no regret,  
To the fifties U.S., a different mindset.

In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier,  
Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound

I Think I Love You, Dad

A hero to a little boy,
Smartest man in the world, so full of joy.
Big HOUSE! Big beard. Big Family! Big belly!!
“I love you son.” “I love you too, Dad”.

A whole different place,
Confusion wins the race.
One night, a big fright. Discovery leads to recovery
“I love you, I promise.” “I love you too, Dad”

A fresh new family,
A

Geography Of Poetry

Hailed countries, old and new
Old civilization, myth or true
North to South, poetry of bards
East to West like flash of cards

Names on maps are words in gaps
Eloquence or simplicity in poetry snaps

Your poetry speaks of geography
Origins of people, languages and philosophy

Your words and thoughts so grand in many forms
Rocks of inspiration in a volcano dorms

Bogomil Cove

Hidden yet rugged
At the bottom of the world 
Cool water flowing
High above Hell’s barren gates
High above ringed deception

Important Thing About Our Planet

If Earth were actually
flat as they claim,
would never meet
in opposites...
Never USA and Russia,
would approach the extremes...

Geography

Doing is Happening
There are imaginary lines to mark locations in a map
Horizontal parallel layti are latitude lines.
Vertical khari lambi are longitude lines.
Four directions to go
The time is now.
Note.Maps can only guide readers.
Lesson.The marker of imagination is an important ingredient.

Geography of a Pandemic

This is a tanka, because Canada is "tanking":

I
There are 3 countries that are really "North America" -
Canada, Us, and Mexico (Most forget Mexico is North!)

II
"Stainless Steel" Lady Mcgreavy updated me on the news from Canada -
"The American Pandemic has passed the permeable borders"

III
Mexico was always bad with policing, law and order bull
After George Floyd, Canada

A Smart Kid I Once Knew - Not Funny Comedy, Stayed Alive In Poetry

I have always been curious about people from Kurdistan
I wonder why they are called kurds
I wonder when the kurds would become keese
Just like curd becomes cheese
I wonder if birds are called “birds” because they come from “Birdistan”…..
Okay, that kurd-bird joke one time never went down well
One audience I entertained transitioned from swelling to swearing
The agitated

Ode To the Cotswold Hills

The Cotswolds are a bunch of hills in rural England's heart
They're green and rolling, full of sheep that frolic, bleat and fart.
People come from far and wide to hike the Cotswold Way,
And from Bath to Chipping Campden lovely views enhance their stay.
The villages and towns each have a unique English charm,
And when the sun shines

• Short Geography Poems
• Famous Geography Poems
• Best Geography Poems
• Read Geography Poems
• Long Geography Poems
• Geography Quotes