Boy gets up at six
Needs no alarm of complaint
To shake
The brief night of sleep
From his hay-cropped hair
Brushes his teeth
Smokes a two dollar holler of cigarette for breakfast
A pack a day is like tax day for him
Paid by ten in the morning
Then the day is free and clear
Holds down his car as it bucks to life
Lurches away
Stops at Starbucks
Spends another hour’s dough
On two large black coffees
Picks up three buddies at the far edge
Of the Walmart parking lot
Drives two hours to arrive
At a dismal road to tame with asphalt
The boys dissolve and stick to the road
Buns of thick shoulders
Rise and fall in the oven of sun
Shoveling boils of oil and coal
Throwing
Their boots to stomp the steam
His car limps back to his driveway corral
At 9:45 in the summer evening
Devours another hour
Of Coors and McDonalds at his kitchen table
Prays very hard to God
Maybe it could rain tomorrow?
His girlfriend stands behind him
Rests her head on his shoulder
A dim light buzzing from the ceiling.
Categories:
pavers, career, character, conflict, courage,
Form: Free verse
The Master taught the ancients,
the brilliant art of making fire;
Losing the art in imprudence,
they also forgot the Master.
Beliefs, doctrines, rites, rituals,
Have, no doubt, elements holy;
Deeper than these peripherals,
- Is true Spirituality…
Signs, symbols, worships, and scriptures,
Have been indicators of - Truth;
Indicators are path-pavers,
Can path-pavers be: 'The Path?'
Lotus, swan, Vedas, garlands, and
Holy beads are simple symbols;
'Brahma' dwells in the farthest of far land,
Within inmost heart's citadels.
Every flower, every plant, tree,
Each bird, any animal be;
Every insect, every fly, bee,
Are all spirituality.
Spirit has no forms, shapes, structures,
And tangible anatomy;
It's in and around all creatures,
In symphony-like harmony.
It's that lets me alter, detach,
That tells me respect, tolerate;
Tells always blessings to dispatch,
And with God to cooperate...
It prompts me to face and accept,
To truly my duties perform;
To love, let go, wholly respect,
To always discern and transform...
May 18, 2021
Religion or Spirituality Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Categories:
pavers, animal, bird, humanity, nature,
Form: Rhyme
Are your words predictable,
are the feelings staid
Is the truth rehashed,
the same pavers laid
Is your verse now tired,
its veneer worn thin
Whose mask barely hiding
—the emptiness within
(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)
Categories:
pavers, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
SUMMER HEAT
Heat, humid summer heat
The air is thick enough to bite
Rivers run down your back and face
The air is still
You can cut it with a knife
Tarmac and pavers too hot to walk on
Shimmer in the sun
The birds are quiet and the trees are still
The sun plays hide and seek with thick cumulous clouds
Black and white against a blue sky
Mosquitoes rise and buzz annoying whoever comes their way
The calm before the storm
The wind picks up and the trees begin to move
Large drops of rain spatter on the roof
Getting loader as the heavens open
Lightning strikes nearby and thunder rolls
coming closer until its right above
The sky goes dark as the force of the storm hits
Lights come on and its as though its night
The storm moves over and everything goes quiet
The steam rises off the ground
The sun comes out again
The mosquitoes begin their annoying buzz
Its back to normal
Its hot and humid
Its summer in the tropics
Categories:
pavers, appreciation, environment,
Form: Free verse
The soft gentle breeze caresses my skin, tiny ripples washing over me, as cool invisible fingers tickle each tiny hair. I shiver. The path beneath my feet is hard, the narrow veins between the stone uneven but smooth. Leaning down, my fingers explore each stone admiring the artisan's hand. Even cuts and natural imperfections line the face of the pavers from which imaginary flowers and birds and faces, that only I can see, spring to life. Each piece carefully selected for size and shape, puzzled together with perfect precision. The coolness of the stone feels blue like frozen water, or perhaps green like smooth moss. The air colder now I move on, hollow vibrations tingling my hand with each tap of my cane.
09/01/15
Categories:
pavers, senses,
Form: Free verse
Pavers of life worn down with ware
Solid blocks built upon, set with care
October years spent mending the cracks
that Septembers years most surely lacked
Crossing the yellow lines
with a quivering spine
as November draws nearer
December years decline
Autumns harvest of memory troves
feels winters cold remembrance slow
Golden nostalgia, like falling leaves,
too briskly escapes in winters breeze
© Debra Squyres
Categories:
pavers, age, nostalgia, seasons, time,
Form: Couplet
Ah gotsta tell y’all ‘bout ma own two feet,
Fo transportation dey can’t be beat.
I’m right proud a them clod hoppers, see,
Cause they always trekin’ on ahead a me.
Don’t reckon dey ain’t no place dey ain’t never been,
And if’n dey was I fo sho cainst remember when..
An I remember onced when dese ole clodhoppers,
Churned like lightning from some bad coppers.
Now dey don’t always get me out of a lurch,
Sundays dey carry me on down to church.
An when the old widow next door needs favors,
Why dese ole feet a mine hit them pavers.
Lord dey was your transportation I read in the bible,
So in my book dese feets got no rival.
Member that lady what washed yours an dried em with her hair?
I like to think I’d a maybe helped her if I’d a been dere…
Anyway, thank you Lord for my favorite transportation,
Saves me a heap a money at the gaslene station!
Categories:
pavers, devotionme, me,
Form: Couplet
Dancing shadows along the path
They play a game of hide and seek
Playful while the sunshine peeks
between each branch of beech and ash
the boughs and leaves of autumn's grasp
Dancing across the top of golden leaves
Flirting little sprites, between the pavers, peek
Gleeful breezes sweeping them along
Wily, jumping silhouettes, as if their ploy to tease
They mimic trees, above the street
Fickle dancers, 'till day is done, then off they go to sleep!
Categories:
pavers, nature
Form: Free verse
sometimes life dope slaps me
There's a bench in lieu of a headstone
Over a kid that went early
There's about five of them in that row
The one under the bench was with me
a couple of days after my mom died
He labored for me on a couple of jobs
This one was waiting to be finished
We'd gone for coffee and kept going
Ended up on the beach down cape
lots of rocks not much sand
I waded around talking to mom
Kicked up a half brick
An old paver.
Picked it up to throw it
It had three letters on it
Don......... It's inlaid in the pavers around our pool
Some day I'll spark one up on that bench
Sip a cold one and see what comes along
Categories:
pavers, life, mystery,
Form: Bio