Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer - 2010 April PAD Challenge Results!
MaryAnn's poem, "White Rock Fairy" is number 24 in the list of 50 poems chosen from the 1000 poems submitted for the April 2010 Poem-A-Day Challenge!
Many thanks to Robert Lee Brewer for sponsoring the PAD Challenge!
11 July 2010
King of Syracuse
under the eye of the sun he
became King of Syracuse, this
Prince among common men
bordered by water, but
untrammeled, so, by those old
strictures that held other sons
in check
the potter's son, then, a leader
of men and not to be trifled with,
see his steel, glinting at noon-day?
see how it pierces the heart?
crown him, with green and gold.
became King of Syracuse, this
Prince among common men
bordered by water, but
untrammeled, so, by those old
strictures that held other sons
in check
the potter's son, then, a leader
of men and not to be trifled with,
see his steel, glinting at noon-day?
see how it pierces the heart?
crown him, with green and gold.
Grand Opening
see them assembled, suited in
blue, grey, straining at their
neckties, shifting in their heels,
waiting for the flash that will
freeze them for all time. And
here we are, at this Grand
Opening (near Grand Street) of
cool aisles of comestibles
I simply cannot live without.
Ranging among the tomatoes, lounging
by the lettuce--oh, weighing the
heft of eggplants in her hands
oh, the loveliness of canned
peaches in heavy syrup, the
fruit cocktail, too, jumbled in a crystal cup,
marbled meats wrapped by
the butcher, humming along to
the muzak....will you still
need me......
blue, grey, straining at their
neckties, shifting in their heels,
waiting for the flash that will
freeze them for all time. And
here we are, at this Grand
Opening (near Grand Street) of
cool aisles of comestibles
I simply cannot live without.
Ranging among the tomatoes, lounging
by the lettuce--oh, weighing the
heft of eggplants in her hands
oh, the loveliness of canned
peaches in heavy syrup, the
fruit cocktail, too, jumbled in a crystal cup,
marbled meats wrapped by
the butcher, humming along to
the muzak....will you still
need me......
Counting out the Coffee Spoons
counting out the coffee spoons in
the sleep-stupid morning, counting out
the cries in the night, counting the
strands in the cobweb, counting
out the six grey hairs on her head discovered
just this morning and herself so
terrible at mathematics--however
will it all add up, this
assemblage of ends and oddments,
how to enter it, messy-black on
the fine-lined pages of a ledger?
blotting my copybook, the
perpetual cloud mists and
blesses me again and I
respond mea culpa, mea culpa,
mea maxima culpa
and, to that end, amen!
the sleep-stupid morning, counting out
the cries in the night, counting the
strands in the cobweb, counting
out the six grey hairs on her head discovered
just this morning and herself so
terrible at mathematics--however
will it all add up, this
assemblage of ends and oddments,
how to enter it, messy-black on
the fine-lined pages of a ledger?
blotting my copybook, the
perpetual cloud mists and
blesses me again and I
respond mea culpa, mea culpa,
mea maxima culpa
and, to that end, amen!
Porch in Summer
motor turns over then a
trickling noise--coolant through
the coils? ah, the sweet
relief of air-conditioned
rooms that brought us in from
summer porches where we would
rock, nod at a passer-by,
reflect on the rough borders
of marigolds overgrown so
slightly, the stir in the
air a relief, the night
welcomed for the cool dark
the glass refreshed with (yet
another) splash, the closeness
of the kitchen, this tenth
ring of hell she so happily
endures, knowing that later will
come, and the fireflies, too
with their bright punctuation, placing
an end to her wordless sentence
trickling noise--coolant through
the coils? ah, the sweet
relief of air-conditioned
rooms that brought us in from
summer porches where we would
rock, nod at a passer-by,
reflect on the rough borders
of marigolds overgrown so
slightly, the stir in the
air a relief, the night
welcomed for the cool dark
the glass refreshed with (yet
another) splash, the closeness
of the kitchen, this tenth
ring of hell she so happily
endures, knowing that later will
come, and the fireflies, too
with their bright punctuation, placing
an end to her wordless sentence
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