Yellow
Caution
Watch out
The leaf
The leaf painted on my bag
The stoplight says, "Proceed with caution."
Metro auto wipes against my glass muck,
fog and rain crush the inside out of me —
There part of her appearing windshield down;
this myself, a glitter in the stoplight —
Now the slick and slip of odd out borders —
this accidental Déjà Vu ploughed steel;
Where the upside of this doll backseat pass —
my brass wheels, they spin only for your world,
And then to the swallows new to this air —
the color of heart still beneath our tires.
There’s a lot of empty space.
In the car.
In the passenger seat.
The next stoplight.
Everything stops.
Except one honking horn.
Then it continues.
There’s a lot of empty space.
Except on the mantle.
The remains.
We all have something left.
Even if it’s dust.
There’s a lot-
I sense movement-
Nothing there except a boiling pot-
Loud boiling pot-
Steam-
Is like nothing.
There is a moon stuck inside the stoplight
A still unblinking gaze controlling blood tides
Circulatory system like New York City in the seventies
The thrashing of my tire fire heart led
To the tribute of an overzealous blood tithe
With the buzzing of the latch relay circuit
Night and day, the cosmic light switch clicks
Itself into place, there is no dusk or dawn
We are burdened to tread in the interchange
We are a gathering of werewolves, in need
Of a blood moon, craving catharsis and hope
There is no time to pencil in a reverie
A daily scene, like a living nightmare
Turning us into cybernetic lycanthropes
foggy morning
at the stoplight
he talks to himself
again
Newlyweds in Michigan City trailng tin cans pause at the stoplight.
Car hauling distraught looking man on a rope races out of sight
You don’t suppose that’s her husband! The new groom said.
Oh yes it is, said the bride. He’s my uncle, his name is Ted.
But it says they have been married thirty years.
My Aunt Agnes is awful, she told him, thus, his tears.
The new groom stared at his bride uncomfortably.
We won’t act like that he said. She smiled and said “we shall see.”
Jarvis was a goner the second he saw her bouncy hair
She recognized this and reeled him right into her lair
Her amber eyes gave him the stoplight green.
Jarvis from that moment was never again seen.
I hope it was worth it said his Arkansas kin.
I rolled my eyes, as this rolled out past their chin.
He never returned, was never again seen.
Beware of a witch who gives you a glance stoplight green.
Here is my life. Hurry up and wait.
Rush. Rush. Rush.
Try not to wreck your car.
Yesterday I nearly had a heart attack.
I was the fifth car off the exit ramp.
My meeting was right around the corner.
I could have walked from here, but we were stuck.
Looking at a GREEN LIGHT four times in a row.
Every time it turned yellow and red I screamed.
In frustration.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Some cars tried to pull around me.
Where did they think they were going?
We were facing a line of cars that did not move.
At the fifth green light we edged forward a few inches.
Bam.
Stopped again.
I could not yet see the men with machines adding oil to the road.
I was frustrated beyond belief.
I have never sat at a stoplight watching It turn green four times in my life.
But I have now.
Sam Adams Drunk Driver Same, Same but Different
Sam Adams was drunk driving
Too fast down an English rural country lane
He ran at a stoplight he did not see
Blew threw a roundabout
Was rubbed out in an accident.
His drinking buddy, the traffic cop flatfoot,
Smoothed over his death ruling it an accident,
And not drunk driving.
We fell in love in a one stoplight town
During a summer right out of a dream
Exploring each other under a full summers moon
Making love until we ran out of steam
You were gorgeous late in the evening
While watching the sun set out west
I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you
My heart beating out of my chest
By the time our summer of love fizzled out
We peacefully went separate ways
I’ll never forget, as long as I live
The warm summers love that we made
D.R.L.
~ Star Gazing ~
A star shone bright in my window one night
I leaped from my bed and I sang it a tune
It grinned at me, then took off like a flash
I sprinted after it madly, a 100-yard dash
It turned left at a stoplight onto a skyway
When I fell -- sure 'twas foul play -- Tho' anyway
By the time I looked up, the bright star was gone
I moaned, my face drawn, "What else can go wrong?"
"Plenty," intoned a voice, a voice from nowhere
That made my flesh crawl, a jolt of a scare
'Til my heart near gave out, when scanning the sky
I saw the face of my true love ~ my star up so high
August 16, 2020
Strand Completely New (#23) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
August 16, 2020
Strand Completely New (#23) Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I am grateful for a dancer's flow, gravity unhinged
for the bubble laugh of infants
for the stoplight on unsustainable war
for an inner voice of cursing
for walls of indifference falling
for sunlight striking like a cobra
for the bloom of tortured genius
for prickly cat and mouse discussions
for reality lost in the now of recreation
for streets not torn by combat
for the gingerbread fragrance of skin
for the quiet prayer from pulpits
for the spinning strobe of living.
Poem composed July 24, 2020.
Nobody cares anymore!
From your telephone to the haunting
camera eyes of Big Box Stores.
Even the Police, record your face,
as you bake before a stoplight.
Google following your every move on
the net,you bet and..l.l
For all eternity,in their vaults kept!
And we?
Sold a bill of goods that say....
Any invasion is of privacy is perfectly
alright!
Unleashing the ultimate beast, that
cell phone in your pocket,
That lets God knows who, record
your everywhere.
5/12/2019
11am PST
Daylight transforms us into physical beings
Family light reminds us from whence we came
Sunlight insinuates we are on earth for a reason
Stoplight reminds us there are important rules to follow
Friend’s light illuminates our need to be honest and kind
Nature’s lights remind us of the grace and goodness of God
Twilight allows us to appreciate beauty, relaxing into her loveliness
Streetlights are wake up calls that it is time to close ourselves in our houses
Starlight reminds us that angels and spirit guides are standing by, ready to help.
Moonlight aids in our nightly journey back to the source, fully in touch with our soul selves.
Hey Dick guess what?
Guess what?
Guess what?
The seven-year old identical boy twins from across the street have stopped my father.
Mom and my twin and I and Pat, the boy twins’ mother have been sitting in the grass, talking.
My dad, who never listens to children, stops and looks interested.
They yell in unison, “Mommy does not have any underpants on!”
Pat jumps up and runs home.
Her face is as red as a stoplight.
Not any more red than my father’s.
An innocent time.
I was twelve, and I have never forgotten this.
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