poetry - jack sender - all of my life
watching poems, impressed, concerned
overcome with, battle along my way,
you go easy, you know you should.
roads are slippery when
it's me in the way.
you wave briskly for me to see you.
it could have been, distraction,
took away concentrationfor a second.
objective in sight.
slow down to be extra careful.
no matter how long it takes i'll wait.
i first saw him many years ago,
for years i've seen him ... on TV.
thin, sturdy, blonde, neat-combed hair.
of apparent Scandinavian descent, i'd say.
he's with a football team, that's why i see him.
once in a while during a game they show him on the sidelines;
always looking attentive ... concerned.
probably a head coach of the NFL team watch.
i know this guy's name for nothing.
i saw him on Monday night Football this week.
for thirty years or more i've seen him occasionally.
so i know him better than he knows me, naturally.
for sure we both get along where we belong ... on the sidelines.
and work it out
hey Debra; Jack and Meridith
from way far away after Sausalito
and Rome, now Oberlin, Ohio
spark a hoppin' hello
back to times with Henry, Joanne and the rest of us.
cause you led us hoppin' true
you did and we stayed in step
you're still in our brain
December got here. so did the snow,
knee deep white, more than i've seen for years.
today is Wednesday, last night snow came down
heavily. today it's 41 degrees, we have no snow tires,
can we get out and back in .
oh yes, she did, all went well.
she made it out and back.
now two weeks later.
it is no snow, warmer
another day is Thursday , sunny.
blue sky with gentle, now wind, wispy clouds.
snow storms are gone,
the temperature is over freezing.
looking out to stillness.
(check the time) 1:44, close the door,
now, this is what a poem is for ...
to give you rhyme, most every time, not always ...
and good sense? hmm, you decide.
and poetry has meter, ... like a parking meter only you never put quarters in.
it won't expire and you won't get a ticket.
and scheme ... what a dream.
today's theme acceptance and encouragement ...
please accept my poem, i encourage you to write your own.
i was asked to write you a poem for today.
what is the poem about? HAH. my poems are so short i 'd divulge too much if i mention it.
here's my poem:
a crowd of poets is a sad thing, there's no denying;
we'll spend time holding hands when we''re not crying.
i'm not lying.
the life of a poet is
difficult, complicated.
making notes sorting words, stacking
cards; we're poets in isolation,
doing it alone ...
the sound of one dog barking
oh, here to the corner ... no parking.
there is hunger in the United States and Covid 19
... this poem distracted you for a moment ...
like rainbow colors, in fluffy clouds
slid the window open after three
dreamed clouds again until five-thirty
when, from long beyond
i heard the whistle say - i am train
calling low in light rain,
sweet voice, milk and thunder
clawing on wings of steel,
lonely is the night, strong, sure
swinging through, blasting,
rolling heavy on quick-wheel feet
powering around, long through, then out of town,
murmur lonely; cutting night stillness, like blades on ice
iron maiden go, into first morning light
familiar friend, shaking windows with your power,
i smiled, low in bed, covered my head
slept another hour.
this is the third time i've published this poem;
i like it and i'm working on it.
sleeping, thinking, rolling dream.
half and half, back again,
not too early, not too late.
i want to hear the tapping rain drops.
nearly see forgotten faces of friends i knew.
longing to see my friends again.
yeah, a cup of coffee and thirty minutes
can do wonders for friendships.
