Musings and Other Poems by Doug Tanoury ________________________________________
Lying awake in A hammock, I study the sky, The patterns Of high altitude clouds Wispy and insubstantial, In light brush strokes Across the upper atmosphere.
There is a cardinal singing From somewhere unseen, High in the maple Or deep in the ash And starlings fly from west to east In early evening, just as they fly From east to west each morning.
In these small details Of my day, as I lay weightless, Suspended somewhere between Earth and sky, I somehow feel The absence of you, A space unfilled, A bird not singing, A word unspoken. ________________________________________
This afternoon The day lily's Abundant blooms Of canary and crimson, Leave me mute and unmoved,
And the hammock Hanging weightless Between greenness of grass And blueness of sky Lulls me to silence,
And in the night, In the darkness, under the trees, Where the branches Of the ash meet the maple, I sit quiet,
For the night sky On summer nights Glowing purple in the West, Translucent and backlit, Leaves me wordless. ________________________________________
Image In The Mirror
I look critically at your image Framed in the bathroom mirror As you stand behind me Absorbed in some small detail Of an everyday task That is so mundane It is meaningless to me. Quite unaware that I am watching, Studying your face, How much like your mother You look at this moment, With all your energy and attention Focused on the minuteness of I don't know what.
I think, perhaps before we die, We are punished in the most perverted And onerous way By taking on the spirit and form Of our least favorite parent, And I will say to you now, On this day of past reflection And quiet remembrance, That in so much as I have become my father, In action and inaction, In thought and thoughtlessness, In word and wordlessness, That I, more than anyone, Truly regret it And am deeply sorry. ________________________________________
Spring comes to me now Like either a green hiatus Or an abrupt scene change In the surrealistic landscape of some dream And I am neither fully awake Nor completely aware Of all its meaning and import.
The willows awaken In wisps of pale and subtle growth That forms around their branches like a mist, A nimbus of color, That sways in the breeze on May mornings In ways that reminds me of the soft movement of air In a woman's hair.
I walk through the day, A somnambulist's unconscious journey, Seeing, but not seeing, Hearing, but not hearing, Feeling, but not feeling, Perceiving, but not perceiving.
And when I talk, it is the one sided Soliloquy of a sleeper's dialoged Where each word I whisper Has the visible substance of the vapor Exhaled with each breath Onto the frozen air of a January morning.
I dream of spring, Of soft breezes and mild mornings And of the sycamores That awaken ever so slowly And will not show a hint of foliage Until the first days of June. ________________________________________
About Doug Tanoury
Doug Tanoury is primarily a poet of the Internet with the majority of his work never leaving electronic form. His verse can be read at electronic magazines and journals across the world. Collections of poetry by Doug Tanoury can be found at Athens Avenue This and other ebook collections of poetry by Doug Tanoury can be read and downloaded at: http://home.comcast.net/~dtanoury1/Tanoury.html Doug grew up in Detroit, Michigan and still lives in the area. Doug Tanoury credits his 7th grade poetry anthology from Sister Debra's English class, Reflections On A Gift Of Watermelon Pickle And Other Modern Verse, (Stephen Dunning, Edward Lueders and Hugh Smith, (c) 1966 by Scott Foresman & Company) as exerting the greatest influence on his work. He still keeps a copy of it at his writing desk.