Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Framed by the white plastic
of the kitchen window,
a portrait of feathered friends
bathing together
in the waters of life.
Blue, red, robin, and wren
sharing a statuesque perch,
each drinking from
the shell-shaped reservoir
filled by the gift
of a recent hard-spring rain.
“Red or yellow, black or white,
they are precious in His sight…”
ripples of Sunday memories
disturbed the surface
of my stillness.
A Black gunner,
A Puerto Rican NR2 commander,
A Caucasian driver, and
a young Sergeant
of Vietnamese heritage…
a photo framed by newsprint.
Roosting together in their heroism
atop an armored vehicle -
birds of a different feather,
flocking together,
where storms of lead reign
and reservoirs fill with blood.
Sacred moments of reflection -
my silence rippled
by the melody of the cell phone.
A Cherokee friend,
calling to sing
the birthday song.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
The house on Elder Street is old,
menopausal in fact,
with no signs of children at play.
A lovingly maintained lawn
rolls gently from front porch
to the vine-covered mailbox
standing guard alongside
the blacktop pavement.
No fences hinder a visitor,
four-legged or two.
Built of strong stuff,
possessing a concrete foundation,
its exterior is real brick - not veneer.
Belonging once to a king,
this castle’s only turret
is a mighty stone chimney
capable of warming hearth and hearts.
Inside, a man could serenade his wife
while she let down her hair
without the neighbors hearing.
Then why the carefully stenciled
‘Reduced for Quick Sale’ sign
plunged deeply into the earth
near the verdigris number marker?
Why not instead,
‘Costs More – Appreciated with Age’?
Weathered house or leathered man –
fewer days of existence
makes one more desirable,
they say.
Sometimes outward blemishes
become more a factor in determining worth
than warmth, character,
and undeniable inner-charm,
but true value can be recognized
in the beauty of a deal, not curb appeal.
101 Elder Road would be a good investment.
The spirit within comes free.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Solitary footsteps
crushing autumn leaves
against the forest floor
resemble night sounds,
tossing and turning,
rustling linens upon which
risks of confessions are weighed.
Dare those truths be spoken?
Would silence provide
more peaceful slumber
than admitting thoughts
of selfish needs,
specifics required
to quench desire,
and declarations of intent
laced with uncertainty?
Does your heart crave
continued stillness?
Will you be startled
when the offer is made,
the love professed?
Will you flee - like doe facing fox,
or surrender having longed
for words waiting stalled
upon these trembling lips
dry with fear of rejection?
Even odds my words,
placed face-up on the table
will win your hand or be raked aside
with autumn’s spent grandeur
to die rotting on cold ground.
Dare I gamble
on a fifty-fifty chance?
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
In paranormal grief,
ectoplasm drifts down Peters Street
then winds deeper into the Quarter
searching for his haunt –
a corner table at Galatoire’s
where ghost writers meet,
but table and spirits
are no longer around.
Painted white chairs
from under the wisteria
at the Court of Two Sisters
drift out to see
cause for the mournful silence
of Preservation Hall.
And at Rue Toulouse,
room number nine
of Maison de Ville
waits weeping for her lover’s return.
No more seeds will be planted
in the dark furrows of Elysian Fields.
Only one colored lantern at 632
remains to light the way
for the kindness of strangers
he somehow knew
we’d all come to depend upon…
today.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Pungent fresh pine scented breezes
Slither between boughs of cedar
Leaving frigid kisses to ride
Fragrant laurel chilled by winter
Slivers of January light
Bounce off the rich damp forest floor
Brittle stems of wild azalea
Wait pregnant one trimester more
Armies of crisp brown leaves parade
Over crystallized chartreuse moss
Where tendrils of life hold on fast
So the highland suffers no loss
Icicle slopes of emery
Weeping frozen stalactite tears
Remember the summer soul mates
Still passionate despite their years
Somewhere lost in cold reverie
She waits for the lovers’ return
A mountain cloaked in loneliness
Decomposes when left to yearn
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Principles that govern
a man’s thoughts and actions
are often purchased
with unspent desire.
Scruples,
logical ethics and morals,
are high-priced considering
the value of pleasure.
A loyal and steadfast
husband to a frigid wife
mortgages his heart,
and the affection of angels
is his only
accumulated interest.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Your curiosity pulled
the poisoned dirk of loneliness
from the deepest chamber
of my quaking heart.
With steady hand
pressed to the open wound,
the healing process began
as wonder turned to love.
After washing away
festering insecurities
then wrapping me
in the gauze of your embrace,
you breathed into me
new desire to subsist.
Your devotion became
an unguent balm.
Kissing my heart
made it well.
Now I wear an untoughened scar
capable of growing stronger
through days and nights
of togetherness or gaping again
should the straight-bladed
dagger of solitude
be repositioned.
I tremble,
hold my breath,
in frightened anticipation,
loathing the thoughts
of lovelessness
cutting through me
again.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Take a walk with me
into the forest at twilight
Drape your arm around
my withering shoulders
and guide us down the path
to meet our gray tomorrows
Warm my cool thin lips
with kisses from our youth
and let me gaze into
the blue hot embers that
made my body burn
throughout our yesteryears
Protect me from
the frightening things
I somehow don’t recall
Guard the night steadfastly
so I might sleep in peace
with my cheek upon your chest
now dusted with winter frost
Pray my evening prayers
and laugh with me in the morning
So when the daylight begins to die
we can walk hand in hand
through the moonlight
to embrace our eternal night
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
Ursa Major commands an army of stars
on their circumpolar midnight watch.
Steadfast soldiers of the navy-blue universe
wait shimmering, shivering
in cold solar winds behind shadows
of an icy-white summer moon.
As keepers of dreams
and protectors of both Pleiades
and earth-bound sisters,
they bullishly occupy their assigned bunkers
throughout Via Lactea.
Companies of constellations
stand at parade rest
while one Sergeant at Arms,
snaps orders to His celestial battalion.
With sabers of light in hand,
they man their posts, ready to thwart
any who would disturb my sleepy peace.
Because He watches over me,
I smile up into the heavens tonight
then dream my dreams
in confident repose oblivious
of the dark clouds of matter
along the Milky Way.
He is the Sentinel keeping me
safe through the night.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Kay Caputi Poem
On metallic wings of hope,
violent noise propels man
through clouds of faith,
through the troposphere
and beyond
in accelerated exploration.
With every pound of thrust,
prayers gain altitude,
and the wonder
of universal forces
is magnified.
In time we'll know
if they've seen
the Eye of God.
Copyright © Kay Caputi | Year Posted 2006
|