A Play of words, poetry in motion
To Notice Poem Download I was created to notice the cat, catching butterflies. If I were God I would be lonely and I would need someone to notice how the cat catches butterflies and brings them into the house and how they are to her as big a prize as any mole or mouse. ***
Chasing the Dream by Marilyn McIntyre time floating downstream in an ancient bottle plugged with different futures I dash excitedly up and down the bank like a well trained Lassie barking excitedly and then wade in to stop time the eddy pried it away running on rapidly burbling with life and plunging round the bend … Read more…
Susan Mandel (1) Blinded by the light in your eyes I cannot see the truth. The darkness in your stare tells me that dreams fade by the light of day. Who do I see when I open my eyes? Does it really even matter? (2) When you run to catch up with yourself do you … Read more…
We’ll hide in here, in the Wordplay hotel. Nobody will find us here. We’ll sneak around pretending Bukowski. Our streets are not ordinary. We are not ordinary. Life is not ordinary. I for example am a nut on a tree in a forest.
POEMS DONE ON A LATE NIGHT CAR I. CHICKENS I AM The Great White Way of the city: When you ask what is my desire, I answer: “Girls fresh as country wild flowers, With young faces tired of the cows and barns, Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries, Slender supple … Read more…
Grass PILE the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor: What place … Read more…
o Last is best when the rose returns when games are over when the music is heard above the din Ken Peter’s pens: “time’s perfume distilled breathe distilled in an alembic distilled drop being clear clear drop reflecting reflection dropping slowly into the vial into the lives waiting on a scent”
No Whores in Doorways Poem I have no whores no cigarrette butts no subway graffitti no gutsy New York or Chicago poem no Buk no pound of flesh no whores in doorways no nights spent scratching my stubble while streets are lined with derelict lives. no dirty plates just the quiet of solitude the purpose … Read more…
If there were reason then all of the atoms would line up with all of the flowers. If there were a rationale there would still be death and the need for death and the chip in the wall, the one atom out of place, which always causes everything to fall and tumble in a pile … Read more…
The chair creaks the roof doesn’t leak there is a doorway, I can see umbrellas paint and guitars and dreams The chair creaks and the winter wanes, and the trees wait patiently like this poem, wait patiently for the spring breeze to say that we made it through another winter, too warm or too cold, … Read more…