Long Felt hat Poems

Everyone has his four o’clock there is no doubt about that
Everyone has his four o’ clock even if he wears a cowboy’s hat
Everyone has his four o’ clock even if he roams around in a...

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"I follow the Moskva
and down to Gorky Park-
listening to the winds of change" - Scorpions

All the heads of state and their spouses (or significant others) have arrived and been seated for this, my last show...

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The coin has two sides on it, and if you have time you must examine all the details on it, the unique strokes around the circumference will lead you towards the spell bound heavens, the...

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You came into her house through the kitchen. 
The big door in from the front porch
Hadn't been used for years;
Furniture stood hard against it.
A knock at the front door meant a stranger.

Aunt Celesta makes a...

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There’s a man I’d like you all to meet whose Aussie through and through,
From his felt hat to his R.M. boots, he ridgy didge, true blue.
He was born in Roma, Queensland, back in nineteen thirty-three
And...

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The horse is galloping down the road with a story that is untold; the horse is galloping down the road with a saddle on its back and a book tucked underneath with a message that...

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You remember me from my past books
I remember you from your scouring looks 
No sales were made; I landed a job that’s not obscure
selling newspapers on the corner is my entrepreneur  

Sales begin turning...

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Phantom of the Opera

   I stand and watch  from my box five
And listen to the most beautiful Nightingale
I could stay awake till  wee hours of dawn gale
Listening to her melodic voice...

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I read Darryl Ashton’s poem Called Pinocchio Rex and this brought back 
memories of a childhood incident

When I grew up we had a smallholding – the house was called ‘Longacre’ as we 
had over an...

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			Naked death


…the barred and sealed cattle wagons
							disgorge
at the Konzentrazionslager
						            the faux pas relief
    from urine mud faeces sweat and tears
unkempt armpits...

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He was a silver tongued devil from New Orleans
Carried a new deck of cards in a locked brief case
He came up to Texas in a pair of pressed jeans
With a stiff demeanor they called a...

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A Strange heat is walking up the street with a heavy load upon its head and a yardstick to measure the dead, it’s walking in a straight line, staring at the glaciers melting from the...

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Sebastian said Dim Whitty,
So as to make this funny
I asked the coach and said
"Honey...Who's on First?"

Coach said eYes!
And I got that part. Write.

Costello asked for the bat
Said he loved the game so
Coach gave him That.

Confused...

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Nightmare, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s Cauchemar

(Translation of Paul Verlaine’s quintilla : « Cauchemar ». As usual, I have tried to stick to the original’s stanzaic format and rhyme scheme. T. Wignesan)

In my unfurling dream I...

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Between 96th and 104th Street on Broadway
A mid age man holds high his bible as he shouts and struts.

From year to year he holds his route
When day is lit or turns to night
His chants I...

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City across the water, night by violet aurora
Los Angeles, we're further south than I thought (than we should be)
I take a strewn-bark trail to get a better view
Hand me the camera, Polaroids in quick succession...

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I can close my eyes, and see
Her gentle, weathered face, 
Hair pulled back into a wispy bun
Grey around the temples, crinkles around the eyes
A bibbed apron, fastened with two safety pins 
To the top of...

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How to describe him,
the he that was so much a part of me
but for such a short while
brawn.

The span of his shoulders 
as they stretched across his un-ironed flannel plaid.
The wedge shaped fan of his...

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I scry through time with a crystal sphere
Asking of it my future, both far and near
Yet, the images I see were dismally unclear
(It should go without saying that I am not a seer)

I saw a...

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Down to his last silver dollar,
Had been for many a year,
Caleb felt rich as long as
He had that last dollar near.

He’d made a million, believe it. 
And through his fingers, went it all
He was terrified...

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When the snow is deep and wet enough to pack
I look out my living room window to watch kids build a snowman
Wouldn't you know    that old felt hat is gone from the...

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I sometimes sit
At the train station
And watch the people

Go by. They sweep past
Hurriedly, filling the quiet
Of my thoughts

With bustling energy.
Then a little one’s head
Will turn, inquisitive

Eyes questing to know more about
This curious lady in
Her red...

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