Long Garret Poems

I crossed into Vienna, VIA courthouse road still trying to figure want it was all about
Then I see where courthouse road ends  right at church street den
The road continue from court house road and...

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“The songs are casual and careless in a satisfying way, like the used condom your latest lover left lying on your bedroom floor, a souvenir you’re not yet ready to dispose of.” Candy Cotton, Modern...

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Dear budding poet,

Regarding modern poetry this is a result of poets such as you redesigning forms of poetry written through the ages by different nationalities, famous and just ordinary people like you and me.

When composing...

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Everyone voted Mrs. Garret’s tree as the best Christmas display in the village. Which was surprising in a way, as she was not really a local. 

Richard Garret, her husband, was not a man to...

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Coinneach Odhar
The future in his sight
In the eye of his rounded stone
His visions became right
 
Predictions he made
On Seaforth lands
At Brahan Castle
In this shire of grand
 
One day ships will sail round the back of...

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Malodorous tavern’s garret, the codger it accommodates, No more,
Fuzzled in brew, his fuzzy lady, her life she lives to abhor.

Randy colleen gape at her with aghast,
Talk around that she has “the dead hands of the...

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Armadilly came galloping into Troll Lake, bent on seeking a new life, to unwind.
He’d rode out of the Badlands, leaving only a trail of blowing dust and leaves, behind.
His steady stead Jalopy had been pounding...

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A Hint at What Is Beautiful : 
Lovely is the 'bless your heart' 
Wrapped with appreciation, 
Offered to peace inclined individuals 
Who make a special effort 
To nurture shrapnel singed casualties 
In the midst of...

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So shocking was that news from France,
we stared at TVs in a trance;
no way to understand.
Those young and old without a chance
were taken down in wide expanse.
Such horror had been planned.

Who could have then foreseen...

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Manhattan Soliloquy

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

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...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)
   

As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic,...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)


As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)


As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a...

Read More

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)


As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a...

Read More

Always Prepared

Ready 
Freddy

The Untamed

Feral
Ferril

What’s in Frankie’s Pockets?

Frankie’s
hankies

Patriotic Guy

Yankee
Frankie

Of the highest Quality

Fraser’s
razors

Small Eater

Grazer
Frazer

The Warlock

Pagan
Fagin

The Brilliant One

Star Glow
Fargo

Something’s About to Happen to Him

Herald
Gerald

Poet

The bard
Gerard

The Mimic

Parrot
Garret

Who Needs Pudding and Pie

Georgie 
Porgie

Good Grief!

Lordy,
Gordy!

Best Things in his Garden

Gerrett’s
carrots

The Stoic

Steely
Greeley

What People...

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Decisions sometime results in failure;
we start analyzing our behavior.
Many times it is really painful.
Regret comes as natural emotion
can't decide what next, completely broken.

With failure we reflect, ponder defects,
know flaws, look for the ways to solve...

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IT STARTED WITH A BLANK CANVAS

Come lay your paint on me, it pleaded
I’m here in this garret, naked and cold
So what could I as a sensitive artist, do
Except comply, dabbing shades of blue
Reaching for indigo,...

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He was weary of prostitutes.
The young ones were vacuous,
their bodies unleavened bread.
The mature models scored
by the violence of disappointment.
Both the naive and the bitter
were dull molds.
He had dissected women, both old and girlish.

On moonless nights...

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