Missing | A Poem on Husband Passing by Joan Pond

Missin poem on Husband Passing

Missing

……….by Joan Pond

I wanted to write a poem
with such music and guitars, strumming.
I tried at the teeth of the sound
to draw up legions of noise.
I tried at the breakwater
to catch the star off each ship,
and at the closing of my hands
I looked for their homes;
I looked for their silences.
I found just one.

I look for uncomplicated hymns, now,
but love has none.

TO THE ABORTION | Joan Pond

to the abortion
Pam and I sat in front, clutching cups of coffee.
Steam fogged the glass
as I followed Bryant’s Pass
and we crossed the double kerthump of track,
headed toward Bridgeport.
We stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts
and saw the dude in the cowboy hat and string tie.
The restaurant, with its lights and white walls
was sterile as a Hopper.
And the man in the hat sat facing the street,
balancing his face in his hands,
staring into the night.
I turned at the light and followed the signs.
Two blocks to Stillman Medical.
One Block to Stillman.
Take a right at Stillman.
Strange, for a clinic to advertise
as an amusement park.
It was though we were driving
to South of the Border.

Joan Pond Poetry

joan pond

joan pond

Facebook   Twitter   Amazon  Goodreads

Artvilla Poet since 2004, Joan Pond has always offered mystery.Some,but not all, is answered by County Times:

Life has been a joyous journey for Joan Pond of New Milford, a freewheeling, adventure-embracing Odyssey that has taken her from her childhood home in Milford to London, where she wined and dined with actor neighbors Ava Gardner and Charles Grey, to a job as a chauffeur for Reginald H. Jones, the button-down, pencil-sharp CEO of General Electric in the 1970s—a job that served as an entree to more demanding jobs and more education.…….Read the review in  Countytimes

 

Support Our Poets

click image to buy

buy poetry books

 

Christmas for the birds poem by Joan Pond

Cerulean Light
by Joan Pond

On Greenwich Avenue,
Fred festooned a fir with lights.
“Jesus,” he said. “It just ain”t right.
I bought this string at CVS
and it”s already broke.
This Christmas stuff”s for the birds.
Man, it”s a joke.
I got no wife and my whole life”s changed.”
But when I shook his hand,
the blue lights lit.
“Holy shit!” he said. “It”s a miracle.”
And we stood,
bathed in cerulean light.

***

Originally published at Artvilla.com December 7 2004

Poem Nantucket Fish Out Of Water Poem by Joan Pond

A Fish Out of Water

So far from ocean,

here.

No pounding waves or crashing surf.

As Nantucket weighs,

heavy and deep.

In my sleep

I hear bell-buoys.

It”s only a dehumidifier

droning,

as the engine of a ship.

Yet,

I turn and list

avoiding shoals and reefs.

Tossing in my sleep,

I”m a fish on dry land

with a sered eye

of rainbow.

Ship-wrecked.

I dream

of

home.

***

Grains of Sand Poem by Joan Pond

Grains Of Sand
by Joan Pond

The sound of thunder,
and I”ll stand,
transfixed,
recalling a day with no boats on a lake,
only bull-heads darted toward the underpinnings of a dock
and concentric rings of water infinitely expanding.
I shouldn”t have taken him for granted
but savoured each moment,
holding them as grains of sand
not letting them slip to shore.
That moment,
would never be repeated;
only recalled when rings of water
infinitely expand
on the surface
of a lake.

***

The Good Old Days Poem by Joan Pond

shallow_thoughts

The Good Old Days Expired
by Joan Pond

The good old days expired
when I sat on the bed
and he said he didn”t love me
as much as I loved him.
Irrecoverable
obsolete,
I was past perfect;
incomplete without him
Once upon a time
I”d found my prince
but he turned me into something
less.
Weighed
and found wanting
I packed beggardly boxes
and left,
not wanting to lose more
than I could
afford.

***
shallow_thoughts
Buy at Amazon

Not Sitting Shiva A Poem by Joan Pond

NOT SITTING SHIVA

AJ was whiter than I remembered, and his lips were taut.
I reached over to fix a lock of his hair,
then stopped.
Egad! I’d almost touched a corpse.
I sat beside him, smelling Bubby’s brisket and potato kugel,
thinking of her applesauce and lemon cake.
Then, suddenly,
I started to shake inside.
I should be ashamed,
only thinking of myself.
But AJ always liked food, the gathering of family, and close friends.
This was a time to make amends,
to bury the hatchet, along with the dead.
And as Bubby came from the kitchen with a platter of chicken liver and bow ties,
I swear
I thought I saw AJ smile.