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Alan Reed Poem
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?
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2012
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Alan Reed Poem
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
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Alan Reed Poem
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
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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Alan Reed Poem
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
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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Alan Reed Poem
Sweet scent salvia
Singing for the Humming Birds
Pierce the densest smog
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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Alan Reed Poem
Willow dance with me
Heavenly aviary
But let the birds stay
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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Alan Reed Poem
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
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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Alan Reed Poem
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
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2011
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Alan Reed Poem
Autumn red orange
Tree leaves of unmatched colors
In rustic canoes
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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Alan Reed Poem
Eagle nests lie high
Conceal young from other prey
Mercy should they fall
Copyright © Alan Reed | Year Posted 2010
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