December 15, 2009

Poem: “Grunts and Groans”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Grunts and groans

Sighs and moans

Stiff-legged walk—

Cold water to face

Toothbrush in a race

Don’t forget to cough

And yank the hot & cold

Beyond the window wide

The birds gather with pride

All the answer have I none

Stick a fork in me I’m done

Maybe you’re good & fleet

But I am dead under foot

There goes the wifely shuffle

The days begin with usual hustle

Don’t say there’s no pain

Like Chinese torture

Out in the rain

One more drop to the brain.

December 11, 2009

Poem: “Please…”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Note publication of my poem on Monhegan Commons for Dec. 9, 2009: click on poetry tab, poem entitled, “Island Pond Has Frozen”.

http://www.monhegan.com

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Please…

Don’t raise the shade

My eyes are asleep

In their caverns

Silent in darkness

With no images

But my mind

Awakening in fear

Of a full day

Of scorching lamps

High in the sky

Or over my left shoulder

Bringing to light

A reality much debated

Where no one agrees

And everyone cheats

To make it right again.

December 9, 2009

Poem: “Twas No Excuse”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Twas no excuse

You weren’t the center

Nor the margin even now.

The rains came

And washed the snow,

Evidence of winter,

Into premature spring

And doubters quaked

Like Colorado aspens,

While time slipped

Gearless through fog,

And no mind left

An impression of life.

I winked at the conceit

Of ignoring as lesson—

Is that a cold front?

Don we now

Our parkas yet,

Again?

December 3, 2009

Poem: “Ice and Fog”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Ice and fog

And thaw

Drip the landscape.

Mystery, it must be,

With detectives

Prowling in hip boots,

Their flashlights darting

Into crevices—

For what lost soul

Or now…body:

Decomposing into hideous grin,

A front tooth with diamond.

Clearly not a crime of property,

Observes a cocksure eye.

Note well, the indefinable fading:

Bloodless white tissue of frost.

November 30, 2009

Poem: “Snow, Sleet, Ice”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Snow, sleet, ice

Thawed, frozen again

Into sheets bubbled

With air from last week—

Dusted lightly

With snow confection

Upon which the booted foot

Flies without resistance

To moon surface heights

While the padded coat

Wheels horizontal

The hooded head

Cranes forward

In the instant flash

Between sky and ground

The concussion follows

With the shock of pain.

November 28, 2009

Poem: “Convention Dictates”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Convention dictates

He began…

And then lost his way.

Reprehensible, his buddy said,

Have you no respect?

Given the sacrifices

You’re an ungrateful

Despicable aspersion—

All good words.

The blinking customer said,

So don’t push me.

Reporting you as you are

Will bring repercussions

That may scar eardrums.

You don’t listen, do you?

The damage is already done.

 

November 24, 2009

Poem: “A Piece of Sky”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

A piece of sky

Cut by a diamond

Dropped on a plate

Blessed by a goddess

Whose kisses press

My nodding head

Till awake & fresh

The meal is eaten

In calm realms

Far above the play

Knocking at the world

An embrace of arms

Collisions unknown

While ignorance avoids

The scripted future

My celestial meal

Saves me from harm.

 

November 21, 2009

Poem: “Who’s In Charge Here?”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Who’s in charge here?

What’s with bedlam

And broken bones—

Look,

Do I have to—?

No,

I didn’t think so

Okay let’s pick up

And make the adults happy—

After all,

They’re feeding us—

And please stand still—

We’re all in crises here

Don’t make matters—

Hey, put that down—

Help,

We’ve got a problem here.

November 19, 2009

Poem: “Against This Sleet”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

Against this sleet

Have you no hope?

Why the cower?

Why the limp?

Cripple in retreat

Even now as bombs burst—

Is this Earth

Not a green white Hell?

And you a subject,

A victim of random

Horrors dripping

Into frame after frame—

Your fear is justified—

You are a target

And your hiding place

Is only a flimsy hut

Against today’s attack.

November 16, 2009

Poem: “Put It This Way”, fr. notebooks, Jim Stallings

Put it this way

He didn’t have a clue

Foppish lad in open air

Celestial blue sky

Chromatic angel harps

Quicksilver fingering

And joy was possibility

Even high probability

Attesting to honors earned

The frozen earth held firm

And was remained in hand

Like bank assets seized—

Fear had flown

Into insubstantiality

He lived in Roman order

His cohorts awaited command

While he dreamed of spring.