How I wish I had a hawk’s far stare
or eyes more agéd than my face.
I do not have a mountain man’s hair
to lend me gravity, solemnity and grace.
I cannot grow a beard, full nor long,
to add wisdom to my plain looks;
my voice, though exotic, cannot hold a song.
I am made for radio, but with a sound for books.
When I tell people I am a poet, they say,
with their eyes, if not with their tongue:
‘you look as common as an everyday day
and your mouth sounds like an everyman’s son.’
Yet I am a poet - before God, before men,
and I’d rather look wrong, but do right with my pen.
poems this mine here else often lists
economical text much inferred
few words fewer articles prepositions conjunctions sometimes needed
rhymes or not
short but slowing fast world trick make think
visual poems stolen cummings
is new question un marked re able
s pa
ce s
runonswhereeveryfit together
i don't know how you know
it's yours now
maybe makes much sense war
98% genocide
rev wright was right
possible not since rexulti
kill bear with ukraine cannon fodder
so iran can't stop merrikkael turning gaza
gehenna turning resort luxury hotels casinos
offshore oil rigs election want blame drumpf
but have zero credibility ever after praising president credit cards and truancy warden
go ahead watch strait hormuz raise inflation
like when merrika blew nordstream blame other monster
If television is chewing gum for the eyes,
as this architect would have us think,
can you walk and chew gum at the same time
or would it put your TV on the blink?
But what if radio is bubble gum for the ears,
as is my personal perception,
would you be forever blowing big ones
or would it interfere with the reception?
I woke this morning
to the thick breath of heat,
a humid Sunday rising slow as regret.
The tulip tree leaves hung there,
backlit like stained glass in a forgotten chapel,
and beneath the sagging feeder,
a ragged pile of feathers—gray, white, brown—
strewn across the grass,
as though something holy had been torn apart
in the night.
Fox, coyote, hawk—
it hardly matters.
Something lived, and something else lived longer.
I stood there,
thinking how easy it is to mistake hunger for cruelty,
but the air was already moving on,
taking the story with it.
From the television in the sitting room,
the voice of a tired reporter cracks
over the flash flooding on the Guadalupe,
bodies pulled from the brown water,
while the ban on transgenders from the military takes hold,
quiet as a closing door.
-----------------------------
Note: Another poem reflecting James Wright's style
I loaned the poetry book
but haven’t got it back.
Thinking of it makes me smile
Though it is no longer mine.
The birds were each unique.
How similar are birds and people:
bipedal.
Perhaps you could say
the thought, the other way?
Start with a girl
and see the bird in her?
I know a woman who is a parrot.
When she laughs, her wings shake.
A man I once met, is a pelican,
large and white, floating on the lake.
Perhaps he'd like to fly.
This is a serious question,
I don't want to cause a stink,
but how can you really tell
when you're out of invisible ink?
Scientists ask great questions.
They don't do it for a lark.
We know about the speed of light
so, what's the speed of dark?
The car mechanic called me
while I was eating some clam chowder.
He said I can't fix your brakes,
so I made your horn louder.
The paranormal world is fascinating,
it really is so grand.
All those who believe in psychokinesis:
go ahead and raise my hand.
I remember when the candle shop burned down.
The firemen arrived without delay.
Everyone in the crowd stood around
and started singing Happy Birthday.
I like to watch new movies.
They often start the latest trends.
But if Barbie is so popular,
why do you have to buy her friends?
I have failed at many things.
Often times I've cried.
If at first you don't succeed,
destroy all evidence that you tried.
Life is one great big adventure.
It's all about what we do.
So, if at first you don't succeed,
then skydiving's not for you.
A fierce eagle in mid-flight
Was overcome with fearful fright.
He could not believe his eyes,
“What’s this doing in my skies?
First, there was Ben Franklin’s kite.
Now, I deal with Wilbur Wright.”
Doing Wright
Tom Wright AKA
Miracle Man
3/10/2024
In life I’ve done things,
just because of my want.
Several times perhaps,
because of someone’s taunt.
I’ve done many things,
because one would ask.
Later wondering why,
I was chosen for their task.
I’ve quietly done things,
just to ease someone’s need.
While remembering the *scripture,
and planting God’s seed.
On occasion I do things,
because I’m being told.
Without ever thinking,
that I’m being controlled.
But the times I’ve done things,
and left feeling the worst.
Were those few times,
when left feeling coerced.
Once I did something,
through prayerful urging.
Then felt God’s spirit,
as my sin He was purging.
If God gives me a job,
and I refuse without trying.
By uttering the words “I can’t”,
His power I’m denying.
*Matthew 25:40 KJV:
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
Birds behind
A blue sky mirror,
Speak in metaphor;
The surfer riding waves
Feels liquid muscle.
You were a hologram maker,
Lacquering layers -
nature, humanity, God;
Composing a resonance
In other minds;
Thought cascades.
Always Wright
Miracle Man
1/21/2024
At times God fills my heart with a shout,
and the things I think I can do for Him, I do.
On occasion the Devil tries to create some doubt,
and if I believe I can’t I’m usually right too.
Jimmy Doyle Wright
Born: 7/29/1948 Died: 4/4/2016
By Tom Wright
Jim was a loving husband, father, and brother,
who will be remembered by most for his wit.
Jimmy’s life began like a breeze
whispering through thirsty grass,
and terminated like a wagon wheel
that was two years dry of grease.
Warring with death, he became,
battled hardened as a Bois d’arc tree.
The bloodier his prognosis became,
the more abundant were his sharks.
Not once did his witticism submit to pain,
nor did he lose faith as he battled.
But when time runs out clock hands stop,
all things, too soon, come to an end.
2nd Timothy 4:7
Jim has plowed his field,
and now his harness hangs in the barn.
Tom
James Wright 'A BLESSING'
THE LORD
KEEP YOU
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James Wright football poem 'Autumn begins'
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Joseph Wright of Derby
favoured by scientist was he
loving the effect of light
candle-lit paintings a typical sight
John Michael Wright
portraitist of great delight
His faces ever a good likenesd
his aim great accuracy I guess
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