2o15 January 1o, 2o15

 Saturday
Happy New Year readers of my poetry! Sorry it took me a bit to write something new, but it has been a hell of a new year so far. The first poem of 2o15 just for you:

2o15

 

2o15 squats on the windowsill

just like the old man who sat there before him.

Memories, thousands of them

swimming through the barren boughs

of the old trees that are too busy listening

to the gunshots two blocks away

where the drinkers, the sturdy ones

chase all their ghostly memories away

with beer shots and promises to change.

 

There is time, thick, wet barrels full of time

to cast new shadows, younger shadows

to drape the gray halls within the mind.

Sure, a few reruns will find the path back,

will cling to their ghostly selves,

find rebirth no matter the resolution made,

made tonight. And we'll forgive their age

and greet them with open mouth, and dry tongue

and allow them to live at least one more year.

 

One more year of breath we’ll grant them,

those remembrances that fought so hard for life.

rrw o1-o1-15



 

Christmas Time in Oklahoma December 22, 2o14

I've been lazy, yes, I admit it. Haven't posted much poetry lately. Oh, I could come up with some excuse that you might buy, but I'd rather not. Here's something cooked up for Christmas. Sorry, no art work with this one . . . Not yet, at least:

Christmas Time in Oklahoma

 

My sister loves the snow.

 

Disappointed she is
when Christmas rolls around

and all we get in Oklahoma
is black ice roads and a stiff wind
that makes the neighbor’s cat
curl up alongside  the engine block
of my sister’s beat-up old Chevy.

Two cats have passed on this year

due to frigid weather and my sister’s
need to get to work early in the morning

 

But the snow my sister loves

at Christmas time. It has a way
of making even the most dreadful day,
a day filled with cat funerals
and weeping child mourners
seem somehow  cheery.
rrw 12-12-14