Refractions: Autumn's

Refractions:
wet, slick, sliding
among autumn’s
vision in night,
soundlessly.

It's Alive!

On May 7, 2005, I created a new form of poetry, the Modicum. The form consists of five lines. The first containing three syllables; the second, third, and fourth lines all contain four; and the last line ends much like it began, with three syllables. The title is formed by two words, the first word of the poem, and another significant word in the poem, but not the second word. And it must express a complete thought.

Here are but a few examples, the first ones I wrote earlier this year:



endless touch


endless night
touch me again
caress my face
softer she does
in my dreams

~~~~~~~~~~~~


empty kiss


empty bed
hold my body
refresh my mind
so morning sun
can kiss me

~~~~~~~~~~~~


Warm Friends


Warm coffee
cup, cool black desk
notebooks, journals,
pens, my silent
office friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


fleeting shadows


fleeting mist
saturate me
replenishing
my dry shadow’s
man-like form

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In This Lifetime

In this lifetime I’ve seen men at their weakest moments,
so low cracks on dirty, wet porches tower over them,

and again,

on the summit of their most triumphant accomplishment.

And now, looking back,
I can see that the greatest
difference in the two men

were their thoughts.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more on this train of thought
visit my nonfiction page and read Truth.


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Refreshed Memory

A version of the following poem was on an e-zine that used to exist
called Phases. Although, I wrote the original and its counter-parts
with my father in mind, I offer it now, in dedication to that day,
four years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duration plays

deceit on intellect

Time, in pockets, packets like photons

weakens pain

supresses

it

But

allotment

can not diminish it

Affection dwells

in wells, soaking

our souls wet

with tears

Enchantment drips

from fall leaves

and gathers

on the grass

to be danced in

to refresh memories dry with pain

The Sunflower Patch

The following poem was published in Kalliascope: Poetry for Kids by the Poets of the Moontown Cafe', edited and printed by Janie Hubbell, even though I did not intend this for such an audience. Interpretation is a wonderful thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


stand in rain
water gathers in leaf
tips forward to pour

dissatisfaction

f
a
l
l
s

exhilaration is left
to run over my face
as drops intoxicate

my skin

and I stand
silently
in warm rain

disturbed eyes

Someone painted the sky pink, and stares at me through disturbed eyes.

Illusion

In this lightlessness
where the night swallows the sun
and sparrows sing a secret song
that dingy, piss-yellow bulb on the hill
seems much a starfish, floating in watery, black sand.

W.

His heart is rotten meat

I taste another conspiracy

All those people
crowded like cattle
like less than human

The police and national guard
just drive by while these people
beg, die. A group has one nurse
to 15,000, some have none.

"Over and over they ask: When
are the buses coming? When?"

But they do not come

"Please, help us!"

"They are weak. They are tired."

A black man helps an old white lady
sit down, to rest her exhausted body
and looks into the camera. His eyes
say: See, I am kind. Be kind to us

Pleading people cry into a glass lens
to a hollow man, a non human man

He speaks now as I cry. But
I don’t want to see his face

He has shamed me yet but again