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Stanley Yarberry Poem
everything came from the back door
a peace offering sandwich
something to be lost on the clothes line
and when the door slamed close
chickens scramed with their necks crained back
in their traditional drinking mode
the sound of the back door latch
was forever in thier collective memories
handed down in their genes
the door shut as they drank their last
their soft fluffy feathers turned to down
thoughts left on trianged ground
like the hard edges of earth was the cure
mixed with ash from cooking fires
their poop was like sin and cancer combined
scraped from the feet of snotty nosed boys
corpes stacked like the forgiveness of all
on weathered picnic tables feathered
as if a calibration for nutrition
was calculated in pounds of chicken heads
feathers, bodies and poop
Copyright © Stanley Yarberry | Year Posted 2018
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Stanley Yarberry Poem
love can bind memories
sorrow blends with wind
water drips into a stream
thin as a skim of skin
as ghost is to remembering
like members of a greater sin
they should be only simmering
in a broth of the bitter end.
so it is to shooting up
falling into the glimmering
joy comes to who we were
when we were higher withering
living with the next of kin.
Copyright © Stanley Yarberry | Year Posted 2018
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Stanley Yarberry Poem
St. Lawrence river in the spring
when a lake makes the ocean its' dream
shallow ice and sand bend the wind
the twigs begin to twitch and spin
sandwiched like a water gin
buds burn through the fragile skin
never is there amendment
sloughed grained signals silently sent
as vast white feathers float to shore.
Copyright © Stanley Yarberry | Year Posted 2021
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Stanley Yarberry Poem
the challenge of keeping a cat
is managing the vocabulary
so we dance standing still
sparring sparrow and canary
trading shallow gutless will
for what we both would rather
she finds the pain to give
her claws drawn and gathered
her sword is buried
with wildest creed
while I on bended knee
loser geese set her free
now I know but misery
spotless debris her grin
night sow back the shadow
we know who is the friend
and who plays the banjo
if she were a valiant being
she would rear and paw the air
like a plastic monkey on a string
she would leave us in despire
now she sleeps on her throne
while i lick my ozzing chewing
at last i can enjoy my bone
while she dreams of crazy ruining
Copyright © Stanley Yarberry | Year Posted 2018
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Stanley Yarberry Poem
when we think to make believe
following a recent passing
love thrills beyond remark
as it fills the everlasting
hope ends without its washing
weathered gray replace the green
like starlight disembarking
as lips pray into the dream
tears quench weary wishing
time crawls through hollow fires
like a baby made of kindling
linking the last of a memory
to hair and fingers twisting
Copyright © Stanley Yarberry | Year Posted 2018
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Stanley Yarberry Poem
in the distance
with little assistance
there was the silencing of an owl
that woke a consistent worry
in the thinking of a cow
that something persistent was going down
the night soothing hooting
a head spinning around
there was a fox in the hen
house
there was a sound
underground
there was a magnet on the loose
the moon was turning brown
and sheltered from this whisp
was the sniffing of a hound.
Preserverance has subsistence
like candy makes one frown
and our injections are reflections
of a course of damning mounds.
Copyright © Stanley Yarberry | Year Posted 2021
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