Short Small Hours Poems

Pubs and clubs he scours
In the wee small hours
To use his seductive powers
On the maidens he devours
Then in the early hours
The maidens he deflowers  
Are left like wilting flowers
He then returns to gothic towers
Where he then showers...

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Sins of others may give pain with which I'm fraught

But don't cause me unceasing distress that lingers within

It's those things that I did but should not have, or didn't but ought

That nag me in the wee small hours and stay under my skin...

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Ginger ‘s hair now grey,  bragging
     Impishly, how she  had worn a mini
     Never  short of partners  when
     Going out until small hours dancing
     Enjoying  the infamy of being a rebel  the
     Rosy cheeked lady recalled yesteryear...

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Ashen day turns into blackened night. One
limb of a lonely tree stripped of its
pre-fall leaves juts out against the
backdrop of an inked sky scraped
with gray.  Dark clouds enfold
the full white moon, who
cannot break loose
from these strange
small hours’
grasp....

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As I watch the clock with writer's block,
Await my Muse, has she forgot?
The wee small hours come tumbling in,
My heads not here so where's it been?

A flurry of thoughts for different parts,
But no first line on where to start,
So forgive me if I sound absurd,
I have no answers! I have no words!
                      /|\...

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" Within there might be a reason to avoid the sanctum of burning chaos; for what I know in the small hours of night, that the impending disdain of shackled dimensions, no longer avail in subsequent darkness, where once in the hour of every dream stands a light in opposition to the veil of its inherent madness. "


A.gonzales...

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Crashing the beaches
of my eyes,
lives are revealed.

In the small hours of drink,
sickness rained shackled lives
on the bathroom floor.

An abused child
tumbles forth
helpless in a runny sea.

A punished woman
spills out,
lavished with scents of heat.

An eager man
swings new arms.

Fixtures of pain askew,
confined companions swim free....

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In the small hours of the night,
the moon was bright and ready.
Something was waiting to be born—
a vision
or more than a vision—
hope wearing sunglasses.

There are travelers
and then there are travelers
who return.
Some stay behind the moon--
no sunglasses.

And me,
I just sit here waiting
for the next episode,
wanting nothing special,
no commercials to mute,
no reruns to ignore....

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Sometimes I weep because sometimes
the people I meet are so utterly beautiful.
Sometimes the tears just flow because sometimes
when I think of her and I am lost for words
and when the silence enwraps me
I can hear music and the singing of birds,
and sometimes in the small hours when I dream
of the moon gliding through her ebon hair
always I'm happy for having been graced
with her beautiful presence in my life....

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Premiered at The Break Horse Inn, Imperial Beach, CA – 12/9/1996

ACT 1

Tubal Cain’s Bedtime Chant
Haircut
Ballad of an Honest Man
Ingratitudes
Loaves and Fishes
Glory of the Word

ACT 2

It Was I
The Consequence of WE 
Rachel’s Kitchen
Bedouin Eyes
Buthaynah Adara
Egyptian Cotton


ACT 3

Baby Blues
Play Date
Herself
Sky Full of Rain
Pretty Little Engine
Forest Lullaby 
Wee Small Hours
When I’m Just a Memory...

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sitting and breathing,
 I am again
 in the wonder

there are fissures
 in my night sky
 I see a skerrick
 of heaven 

flaming stones
 happen through
 etching minutes
 on small hours 

starbursts course
 onto the Milky Way,
 snow in space and
 angel dust in my eye

pieces of humanity
 drift in the iris
 overawed,
 breathing stops 

in the incredible
 astonishment
 of existence
 and the favour
 of life 

I respire
 once more...

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voices laughing in my head
behind my dreaming vision
long past  life and yet not dead
with friendly mock derision
they call to me as I awake
in wee small hours of morning
wry full glances secret smiles
and words that die aborning
absent minded days of week
slip into working hours
and cause a tear to wet a cheek
in memories of ours 
It’s touch and go
and such a flow
of rushing wishing after
A jolt a jerk I’m back to work
in echoes of their laughter...

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There's an upside to an All Inclusive Resort

But there's also a downside to an All Inclusive Resort

Young'uns are able to drink until they go blind

Absolutely bonkers, losing all sense of reality

Running amok into the wee small hours

Staggering up and down the halls yelling

Knocking on doors with no regard

For us old folks or families with children

I guess my age is showing BUT...

What ever happened to respect for others!!!


© Jack Ellison 2014...

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