Short Croix Poems

sunset in St. Croix
sky washed pink violet hues
miles apart - same dream
~*~...

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Obsolescent parasites; gathering as dae's whirlwind swirling about: kyklos...
His child's decaying flesh: Insecticide's, repelling incubus bloodlines ? Fa chancre
Paris green tremulous their queue; lassa fever scarab's, 'croix de guerre schizein phren....

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LOVE
               HOPE
               SAVE
  LORD-LOVE-LIVE-SOUL
  HOPE-HEAL-TRUE-KING
               HOLY
               LOVE
               SOUL
               TRUE
               KING
               LORD
               KING
               HOPE
               LOVE...

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Mused the eagle soaring through the air

   "Well! What is that I see way down there?"

      'Twas a hare and rattlesnake

         "I think the hare I'd best take!"

            His flight skill earned him the croix de guerre!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved...

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Our loud and proud spanking new sixth grade student named Tony Maloy,
Had bragged about being from the island of exotic St. Croix.
He brazenly came late into McD’s classroom, screaming, “AHOY!”
Our teacher rolled his blue eyes, and under his breath whispered, “oh,joy.”
We became instant friends as I knew he was going to be a really fun boy.
Because quite frankly, unflappable Mr. Duckbill is rather hard to annoy....

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Martine
Timid, reliable, emotional, observant
Wife of Nathan Church
Lover of time management games, cooking competitions and giggle smoke
Who feels anxious, determined, inspired
Who needs attention, La Croix seltzer water, and yoga tights
Who gives thanks to God
Who fears natural disasters, highways and falling off the wagon....again
Who would like to see all disease extinct
A resident of Orlando
Lincifort-Church...

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We took the Marseilles road,
a cambered sun streaking the bay
with gold threads.

We drink lemon tea 
while lovers and others
search for cheap wine.

We are alone at last, free 
to explore our magnetic boundaries;
hands stalking hands
on a checkered tablecloth.

That night we translate
the prayers of our flesh,
surfing tidal crests.

Dawn arrives with gulls
and guilt.
I catch the bus to Perpignan,

head for a border
we have already crossed....

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We took the Marseilles road,
a cambered sun streaked the bay.

Lemon tea while others
search for cheap wine.

We are alone
exploring magnetic boundaries,
hands stalking a checkered tablecloth,
predict ourselves as a nocturn 
far from other eyes.

Night, secret unfolding’s, 
while we translate
the prayers of our flesh,
the tidal crests of our needs.

Dawn arrives with gulls
and guilt.
I catch the bus to Perpignan,

head for a border
that we know
we’ve already crossed....

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