Friday Nite Poetry: Road Trippin

Sorry I was not around last week. I took a trip to Buffalo and then to Jamestown. Really, if you are ever in New York States “smallest big city,” as it is described by another visitor I met, you have to check out Mojo’s. Nice little bar with a great atmosphere, and they make their Jack and Cokes just right. I have a bunch of new poetry for  you this week, all of it written while on the road.

Penciled In

Happy is not a place
or frame of mind
it is not an emotion
or really a thing

It is a time
coming around
your clock
or calendar
every so often

It is the long summer
relaxed beneath the sun
laughing with friends
and dancing with lovers

It is a few minutes
around the dining room table
quietly letting the moments pass
in the creativity of a child

It cannot be scheduled
just hoped for
and when it comes
don’t watch the clock
just let it happen
or it was never there

 

Repurposed Cage

Ride the ion storm
chain your hopes
to the wild electron flow

Grasp and gasp your way
toward Ganymede
dreaming of life in Jupiter’s glow

Chain the gravity well
make its strength
you loving and eager slave

Tumble and pierce the void
laugh in its face
laugh your way to an empty grave

Shatter the ego
fragile sense of self
into millions of colorful shards

Shatter some more
throw every one into the mix
make all yourselves something
the universe never discards

 

Gift and Curse of the Vagabond Heart

I brave the foreign waters
but only so much
keeping all at arm’s length
keeping all beyond touch

It is not the unknown
that urges me to caution
but the familiar
camouflaged in new settings
driving me to exhaustion

I would have it no other way though
no hiding in a panic room for me
there is far too much to experience
and far too much to see

 

Prologue on the Bar Floor

The beer stain on the floor
stares up at me
daring me to ask it
its story

Was it born in celebration
girlfriends out on the town
crying
laughing
cavorting
in honor of their friend’s impending nuptials
until the wild tempo
caught the errant brew crashing below

Maybe it was created in rage
a drink
then  second
third
fourth
and fifth
until the culprit was primed for conflict
dropping the bear to undeserving linoleum

Or perhaps it was less momentous
the barman weary after closing time
glass
after glass
carefully stacked on a tray
but never careful enough
after a long evening’s work

Something like that
or something quite different
every spot
every stain
every crack in the wall
a story to be contemplated
and created

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