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Best Poems Written by Alan Reed

Below are the all-time best Alan Reed poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Alan Reed Poem

The Pink Princess

High noon sun would soon turn

Her petite, ruddy face into one freckle

She rubbed the juice from a fresh lime

Across her brow so the bangs might bleach

The white sand brushed the strand

and aquamarine surf that cut a split on the Caye

reflected mint green off the lens of her Wayfarers

 

Almost lathered in coconut oil

Her cutis emitted the scent of sandalwood

And warm mackeroons

Her smile hinted of a sweet, pitted apricot

Its puckered core with eyes closed

Waiting for that first kiss

That would never come

 

I met her in the morning last week

On the corner of happy and chirpy

The day she tossed her cookies in the street

And swore off cashew wine and meat pie

Her tummy hadn’t been the same since;

The because of a picnic basket brimming

With plain yogurt and sourdough sticky buns

 

“Look at that phosphorescent fish” she exclaimed

Spurting seawater that had backed up

in the snorkel tube into my eyes, her mask

catawampus across her cheeks

“I think you mean fluorescent” retorted I

“it is all the same” she beamed

And smacked her face back into the water

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle

And dove down so she would not notice

Shadows off the palm leaves told me

It was time to head back to the water taxi

With what remained of her chartreuse

Lipstick, she now resembled a fried crustacean

It made me hungry and I longed for croutons

 

She either talked or sang something like

A muzzled version of Del Shannon’s “Down in the Boondocks”

The entire trip

When we docked her now blond locks

Sheared her rostrum and her

White teeth winked at me

Oh my …. Shall I say goodbye?

Details | Alan Reed Poem

June Bugs

It’s dusk in Texas in May 
Keeping the June Bugs at bay 
Citronella works in a way 
Creepy-crawlies more dense in the day 

Reading Kafka but only halfway 
Focus not with it today 
As the candle attracts other array 
Wish they’d get out of the way 

Reflecting on what I have done 
"Metamorphosis" not accession 
Possibly carved out more than a pun 
For others to enjoy modest fun 

Glad not to have invented the gun 
Or to have met Attila the Hun 
Had my short day in the sun 
Did nothing to force me to run 

Still have more than a quarter 
And weary of being a boarder 
Must get out from the eye of my warder 
Honestly don’t wish to court her 

My first stint here close to the border 
And my stay getting shorter and shorter 
Too many creatures for sorter 
There I will find a "Castle" of High Order

Details | Alan Reed Poem

The Wag

A symphony escort named Brute 
Was charging each man with no suit 
He must have been witty 
To dupe Maestro Smitty 
He also made off with his lute

Details | Alan Reed Poem

Emerald Eyes

Sparkle 
to opals do they lend 
shine 
to emeralds they offend 

exude 
the missive they can send 
glow 
despair they often mend 

burnish 
surpass and do not bend 
heal 
put right before the end

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Sweet Salvia

Sweet scent salvia 
Singing for the Humming Birds 
Pierce the densest smog

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Dancing Willow

Willow dance with me 
Heavenly aviary 
But let the birds stay

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The Night the Moon Fell

The night moon bows to sheer degree 
Passing through an arching tree 
Branches together shape a breach 
Form a portico - it to reach 

A precisely finished border 
Drifted in natural order 
Light bulb sans elongated stem 
An hourglass made to diadem 

I had been waiting for hours 
The night too for its fine flowers 
And for the essence each distends 
Natural stage the arch portends 

Lilac scent and other delights 
Often touch on soft breezy nights 
Their creation so appeasing 
Affect comfortably pleasing 

Never to see I must append 
When next falls’ moon makes its bend 
The trees swell in each later year 
Cede consent to natural veer 

Never there be a midnight call 
The night the moon made this grand fall 
Sit out no matter what they say 
Watch and smell the revered archway

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Rustic Essentials

Autumn red orange 
Tree leaves of unmatched colors 
In rustic canoes

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Trillergy

Faint away Ry Cooder 
as the candle flame danced 
reddish green and the wick crackled 

Cassiopeia together 
through the night screen 
crooned Diana Krall 
and a dying moon 

three white birds 
softly perched at the 
window sill 
hoping to join in 
their warble a suitable fit 

insects of every shape 
and watercolor 
tangoed past 
as if ordered 
by some higher authority 

stinging pain carom off the 
right side of my heart 
and get lost 

fall asleep 
earlier than smoking the wicker

Details | Alan Reed Poem

Luna

Since it was Sunday in late December
the sun perched softly behind a dark
swirl - and the distant dust
turned the last ray from red to pink
well before the dainty fingers
of her small hands could count to six

The tide was ebbing but left lopsided
lines of foam-beige brine surrounding
crooked batons of driftwood settling
for the evening - in wait of the dawn’s
salty brush and the mermaid’s call
that only the mullet could hear

Sandpipers skipped across the scrawls
where some spirited soul had neatly
spelled the name Luna and etched
a lazy heart in the sand
made barely legible by the suckle
of less than a half moon of sweet Gruyere

Holiday lamps from the shops in the village,
baptized by a light steam, lifted green and blue
watermarks off the horizon toward the mangroves
and left markings of indelible ink where crow’s feet
tried to sleep and halfhearted whelk 
nestled as salt in recesses of aged eyes

The scent of the sea was mild
Then again just the thing to suit
The keenness of the cilia that lined
the inside of the only nostril that still behaved.
And though the Mumps had left one ear utterly deaf
I observed the pelican call

This was neither the place nor time to breathe meekly.
A wordless titter throttled my throat
and I asked myself how life might be sounder

Her lily white hand, half covered in sand
touched the truss in my mind.
Smiling out loud my deaf ear could hear
her juddering blood - for she was totally (and wonderfully) blind