Long Brooklyn Poems

Translation of Eric Mottram’s Courbet: Elegy 8 by T. Wignesan

Blanches oeuvres ouvertes
résident dans les jours
la surface du banc de travail est noire
les géraniums-lierres
les fougères et les adragans
accumulent leurs oeuvres et jours:
La toile noire de Courbet
un...

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Inferiority complex as a kid, adolescent and emerging adult

Yours truly (an amazingly,
gracefully, and markedly modest
passively aging baby boomer -
formerly introverted long haired
pencil necked geek),
prattling wordsmith doth behold
nostalgic memories regarding father
(Boyce Brandon Harris)
long ago lapsed decades

during...

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I have been trying to pen this verse for the past two weeks but
Someone was standing in my way and my mind went astray
Can’t you see that it is a brand new day?
Winter has subsided...

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A boy and board in Brooklyn
bedeviled by the breath of baroque battles
bemused with a belligerent brain beauty
and befriended by battlefield bravado, 
the chessmen championed his ego
wickedly warring to a visionary's voodoo,
those soldiers of black and...

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Gotcha! Once respectable haute cuisine thief Sue She...,
a septuagenarian renown for his trademark prank
to steal himself into a neighboring house,
and prepare an elaborate meal
unsuspectedly nabbed gorging
(ala man versus food
Adam Montgomery Richman fame
Brooklyn, New York boy)
at...

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In New Haven, Lisa misses the sad, dark, city aesthetics of her hometown. Its crime podcast vibe, actinic crime-lighting and sirens in the distance, that lull her to sleep like lullabies. She has a disturbingly...

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Trifolium pollinated courtesy bombus

Before landscapers mow swaths
across undulating waves of clover
(the father/daughter team
usually cut grass every Tuesday)
bumblebees alight from one to another flower.

Meanwhile, I lie splayed
mid morning June 28th, 2022
with stomach upon natural carpeting
quietly basking...

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Lisa and I had a party to hit-up. I can’t stay inside all the time, not on a Friday night anyway and a rooftop is the perfect place to mull over big questions and get...

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(a university-life vignette)

It’s Saturday morning at about 9am. I’m in the chemistry lab, a sterile looking room with 12 workstations that are like multi level kitchen islands with sinks and various lab gear. It’s the...

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A (starry eyed) burst of creativity...

at approximately
a painfully early o'clock in the morning
give or take an o'clock
found yours truly (me) amassing
line after line of a poem
crazily coalescing courtesy
an extraordinary unfamiliar phenomena
while living social within alien...

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No Roof For Reindeer

The celebrated sailing frog
from Montgomery County
went a courtin, or so the tale iz toad
to a grand ole mansion built around 1910,
and e'en 'pon
being razed ~2012 ah 
no foo fighting crash test dummy
(sea...

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American Pies and Porkies

I’m not American though I spent a year in California the land of beaches Hollywood 
‘flower power’ ‘Big Sur’ with dopey dreams and have walked ‘bear’-foot in Yosemite
thus I followed the elections...

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All In The Name Of "Progress"

The wrecking ball long since
demolished boyhood house zen
located at 324 Level Road,
a once nonagricultural,
pastoral, rural residence,
which soulful yen
I called home while
veritably sequestered, quarantined, positioned...
sprawled atop spaciously shingled roof
countless years (B)efore...

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NAUGHTY NEON NIGHTS

Apron strings gave way to springs unstrung
her hubby made her cry       	
when he said baby, bye-bye
and so she had to think of what to do now ...

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11. They came to devour and sin.
I was briefed by a cornucopia of beings:
From Torchwood, ARGUS, SHIELD and their kin;
The Talamasca, The Shop and MiB Greens;
A BPRD agent who was burning in Hell;
The Syndicate, Consortium,...

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Shattered dreams of New Canaan

no longer land of the free home of the brave,
original rightful occupants hoodwinked, petrified,
where diseases xeroxed
ambushed, crushed, extinguished,
squashed, trashed, wampashed,
the entire kit and kaboodle zapped
violent unwelcome intruders
celebrated acquisition or outright
annexation of...

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Solitary rituals of mourning the write way, right?

Papa... bless his (your) heart and soul,
impossible mission your second born
sole male heir cingularly communicates,
viz his avocational crafted poem, since
written words, mine metier
write most pained words

with great difficulty,...

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To Trina Jacobs
285 Warren Street
Brooklyn, New York
11201, USA

My Dearest Trina
The time we spent together in London is my greatest treasure. I was so looking forward to us being reunited in NewYork. I fear that my...

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Politesse pleases me...
thank you very much
for letting me clutch
your attention courtesy
sharing following thoughts
thru reading my poem analogous 
to invisible electronic, 
fantastic, kinetic... touch.

Manners work like a charm
equivalent to abracadabra to disarm
truculent nasty shortish brutes
who thrive...

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Poetry of the COVID era (read to the end)

Thai pineapple rice. Wonton and Yaki Soba
Tortufo ice cream. Scallopini veal, halva and also soda
Tamago, octopus and yellowtail. Ribs, pasta fagioli.
Meat lover’s pie, sword fish, big shrimps...

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Feel In The Blanks
By Curtis Johnson

After watching the weather reports, Mr. Cee, who lived in California, called his sister in Brooklyn.  He misdialed and reached young Mr. Dee in Pennsylvania. Their conversation quickly turned...

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Yours truly (an amazingly,
gracefully, and markedly modest
passively aging baby boomer -
formerly introverted long haired
pencil necked geek),
prattling wordsmith doth behold
nostalgic memories regarding father
(Boyce Brandon Harris)
long ago lapsed decades

during papa's prime time
many years past when complacence
existed about...

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While listening to Schumann’s “Arabesque” 
and “Fantasiestüche” for the Mozart B flat Sonata,
I feel the warmth and love that’s powerful within;
a moment of instrospection, a source of intervention.

I live in a wonderful country, beautiful and...

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A Girl and a boy both go to music school.
The boy and girl get an audition for a Record Label. 
The both go to the audition and both of them get the chance to go...

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Telling "White Lies"

My mother got born November
thirteenth, nineteen hundred thirty five
within poverty stricken household
of Canarsie, Brooklyn, the youngest
(most mollycoddled) of four siblings,
experienced grinding poverty, no
matter maternal grandfather (Moishe
Kuritsky), a tailor he lacked drive
(and felt neutral...

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