The road suddenly divided
I needed the river
Her two arms replete
with hyacinth of
empathy
Emptily
I kept looking at, now
at one direction
then at the other but
the envelope didn't part
I needed the river so much
Her foamy murmur
into my elongated ears
to interpret what
the cherry was
With the third
eye at the roses
tinging dry thorns
pricking my brain cells
I select the leftward turn
___________________
26 October 2022
Categories:
leftward, river, rose,
Form: Free verse
Leftward went his stride, counter to the sun he strode.
They said he was magicked hence by the fairies
or was a mechanical manikin
witched up from a pot of spells.
Old widdershins had a stove pipe hat
and his clothes were plucked from a crow
he was a longshanks, and wicker-boned,
when he circled a church counterclockwise
old wives muttered about the ‘devils work’
but he was just crook-legged and addled.
Queen Mab midwife of the odd and less ordinary
made him from willow cane and burnt straw
and when he circled the wrong way all day
it was only to stabilize the penny-farthings
that roamed around country churches back when.
The land, despite dire warnings,
did not lose itself in a maze of sorrows,
for all was an enchanted misdirection
a hocus-pocus roundabout detour,
a contrary conjecture
that right was always right despite,
and left was just a gauche and a gangly wish.
Categories:
leftward, poetry,
Form: Free verse
"Would you like barbeque chicken,
or country steak with gravy?"
"Uh, huh."
"You want both?"
"Uh huh."
Her tablemate drools, bottom lip
hanging. He stares at his menu,
waiting for someone to take his order.
An aide rolls a wheel chair to the table
for four. "Stay there!"
Her harsh tone seems inappropriate
for the tiny lady with frizzy curls.
"Mom, what would you like for dessert,
butterscotch pudding or chocolate cake?"
"Uh huh."
"You want both?"
"Uh huh."
Leftward movement draws my eye.
Frizzy curls is on the move.
She's booking out of the dining hall,
fast as her feet can peddle.
The trays arrive. I unwrap cutlery,
pour milk, place Mom's bib around her neck.
Her table-mate digs in, unassisted.
Mother stares at her plate, picks up
her fork, pokes at her food.
The fourth place at the table
remains empty.
Categories:
leftward, age, food, life, mother
Form: Free verse
he remembers it less dimly just now,
the dirt road, a yellowish, brownish blur,
stretching from left to right, and right to left,
just what are and just where are left and right?
when he turns around, the whole idea
of direction staggers and whirls around,
the road melts down, contracts, then reappears
somewhere near , straight in front of his brows,
expanding and exploding on its sides,
elongating leftward and then rightward,
tapering downward, lengthening upward,
rushing forward, fading away backward,
with his eyes closed, he sees it more clearly,
no left or right, up or down, just one haze,
borderless, boundless and yet so finite,
the union..of stillness and of motion !
Categories:
leftward, imagination, introspection, life,
Form: Free verse
One shadow. Two shadows.. Three shadows...
And two remain when the third one fades,
Until the light is directly behind me.
And then there's just one.
As I move further away, a second and third one
Is cast from the light just ahead,
And one of the three disappears
As the other joins the one behind me,
Like an off-centered aura;
And when I walk from whence I came
There is my shadow and its aura in front of me,
Mimicking my every movement, until they join as one.
Then two others appear as I near a light,
The two at my side are strong,
As the one in front flickers away,
So goes the one at my left side;
And the one behind, alone, slowly walks ahead of me.
Almost simultaneously disappearing,
Until the shadow with an aura appears
And move around from back to left to front;
And so goes the cycle as I move from light to light,
Until I see only one shadow,
Which slowly fades as I turn to go left,
Then a lighter one angles long and leftward,
Disappearing quickly as the two reappear
At an angle behind me, to my left, then a bit ahead
Until I turn left again and rest beside the column,
And there I rest just me and my shadows.
Categories:
leftward, art, black african american,
Form: Narrative