Short Slats Poems

BREATH OF EAGLES

climb where eagles soar
open slats breathe on my shoes
crude wooden railing

7/10/2017
haiku...

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He looked at me.
I saw him through the slats.
His eyes brighter than the moon,
Smile as pink as a rose.
From that moment I knew....

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The empty chair,
Still sits there, 
Though many days have gone,
Since grandpa sat,
Upon its slats,
And smelled the new moon lawn....

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Just how drunk were Sven and Olaf when the tied the slats of the empty cask on their feet and headed down the mountain?

John G. Lawless
©1/16/2023...

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sun hat
on a yellow peg

semaphore light
shape-shifting
on spanish tiles

buttermilk blinds
flap
broken slats

a trapped sky hums
lazy crumb songs

light spreads sticky wings
over marmalade bread...

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sun hat
on a yellow peg

semaphore light
shape-shifting
on spanish tiles

buttermilk blinds
flap
broken slats

a trapped sky hums
lazy crumb songs

light spreads sticky wings
over marmalade bread...

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She is wearing a cowboy hat today
I wonder if she sings Aussie or old west?
I have made up so many stories already
My apartment is directly across
I peek between blind slats.
Am I a stalker?
What is that? A record player!
Now I really love this woman!...

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Covid was caused bats to humans.
Black plague was caused rats to humans.
What is going to happen with cats to humans?

Mats to humans?
Slats to humans?
Pats to humans?

A million dead this time 
Twenty-five million died last time.
Here comes a cat. I’m going to book....

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Etched emotions carved
upon wood stained slats
channels of putrid odors 
behind polyurethaned glass
its stench guised by colorful hues

a dark laminated soul
dangles from a plastered wall
framed within a once proud tree
where emptiness once stood
now hangs my sanity..........

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PORTRAIT OF A LOVELY MORNING

U           U           U
U      U      U
U U U
UUU
)
)
)
Tulips, the color of lemonade.
Sunshine saturates my mind,
drawing up the shade.
Mellow slats,contrast
with large leaves.
A dozen embraces of
a lovely morning.

8/15/2017

...

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ATTIRE

featherboa smog
bright lights sequin dusk dark hills
night's new age dress code


               STEP UP

pots with crimson blooms
soft touch on iron railings
worn steps rise as guide


    	 GIRL ON A SWING

wooden slats child's play
bent forward as long chains squeak
she dries washed long hair



12-07-2017...

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The color black grits its teeth
in cracks under closets and
between slats in vertical vents
and seems to be involved in acts
of malfeasance. I distrust
its stealth, avoid its line of 
demarcation, refuse to hold a pen
sporting the color black,
even when revealing this poem.

I'd rather the ink were my own
blood, than India Black....

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A bench that is made out of wood
May cause pain in your back that’s not good,
For the muscles called lats
Can be hurt by the slats;
Sometimes I would change seats if I could.

But you often don’t have that much choice,
So before you let pain have a voice,
Find a pillow to fit
On your back when you sit;
Then in comfort, you’ll rest and rejoice....

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You turned and walked away
shoulders slumped, eyes downcast,
the morning air was still;
bright sun crept through the slats
of window's crooked shades
like the eye lids of dawn.

Like the eye lids of dawn
I saw your tears falling,
wanting to touch your face
it was too late you had
closed the door on our love.

12:11 a.m.
Feb. 19, 2011

C. Alvez...

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Levels horizontally fixed
angles of light are tightly fit
geometrically spaced slats
fragmenting our perception flat

Narrowed slits squinted view
awkward sight for most in lewd
unaware of drawstring near
lifting veils vision clear.....

Trapped below the shadow of self
angled heights obscuring shelf
empty pantry up above
as lower self continues shove...

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A          ROOM

I went behind those painted walls;
And that I ever saw;
Plaster of Paris wooden slats;
Gypsum board adoptive adolescence;
The period following the onset 
Which a wall develops added ceiling floors;
Now becomes a...............................Room 



after construction



4/22/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Copyright © 2018...

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The shine of emerald green blinds.
Their narrow slats will pinch your eyes.
Be moneywise - this trip’s not kind.
The shine of emerald green blinds.
It’s not for empty-headed minds,
Nor yellow brick tail-biting cries.
The shine of emerald green blinds.
Their narrow slats will pinch your eyes.

5/2/2019
Celebrate May with a Triolet
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich...

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Dust Bowl


Dust sifted through the dry wooden slats of the now empty homes.  No sunrise serenade nor rustle of flowing wheat greeted the parching sunrise.  Footprints long erased, carried on the wind of arid dreams, mistakes that scarred both hearts and soil. 



no sustenance here
greed’s empty bowl of dust
bent sunflowers mourn


John G. Lawless
7/12/2015...

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This desk of mine is solid oak
And it’s forty-two inches wide
The sliding top has many slats
So that up and down, it slides

For certain is a real antique
Of a hundred years; probably more
Old Trader Joe found it for me
Sitting on the “Odd Fellows” floor

This old desk is such a beauty
Took a lot of work to restore
It has a lifetime of memories
I keep them safe inside the drawers...

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do clouds cover the old bridge
that leads to your front door?
or a shroud of past memories
where love once lived before?

leaves lay across wooden slats
a clear reminder of fall season
fluttering around mysteriously
disappearing without reason

dusk comes to autumn's forest
with its mantle of twilight grey
staring at the gulf between us
all I can do
is
walk
away...

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my wax self is melting
into the oak slats 
which never held me up any way

the ones i did not 
attend to never understanding
that this day would come

depleted now i give myself
up gladly wondering what will 
remain

nothing i used wisely 
for i took care of nothing
and no one

which is why 
it does not matter any way
i am a lone wolf 

flesh and bone
without a soul
i give myself up gladly...

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Today I was standing
Alone in the street
Staring at a fence,
Through which I could not see.
And I wondered what was behind
That tall fence across the street
And why it was shut away
Like a secret in a diary
Or a prisoner in a cell.
For a moment I thought I saw
Movement through the slats,
A pair of eyes staring back at me.
But then they were gone,
And I was alone in the street,
Left to wonder
What I could not see....

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In the quiet of the day
I hear a roaring on the winds
It's like the wild horses
Aired notes being pinned
 
An Aerofoil, with slats of wood
Aerodynamics in tune,
Whistling
Below the moon
 
My brothers down under
In vibrato sound
This Bullroarer of the past
On their tribal lands
 
This amazing piece
From many a ground
The Ukraine, Scotland
Native American sounds



      http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/australia.php...

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Beyond the Boardwalk

Narrow slats of wood, ticking time
step by step, gap by gap
follow the rhythm, and the rhyme.

Inside the lines, its safer here
follow the rest, stay on the map
eyes straight ahead, the path is clear.

As if on rails, locked to this course
has free will abandoned me?
maybe it's time to revisit the source.

Beyond the boardwalk, now I will tread
free of betrayal, beguised as friends
along my own path I will travel instead.

Stoic...

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The truth
has to buried
down here somewhere.

I enter cannily
prepared for
a long slow journey.

The light of my candle
flickers as if 
it can fail.

It is through
the basement of my old house
that it opens.

Sub-floors and
catacombs never explored
behind a door of wooden slats I could nearly remember,

as if the truth
were hidden in the realm 
of devils.

I walk in alone
peering at the cells of my brain
amazed at how huge I am....

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