Posts Tagged ‘poems’

A Single Bookend

Posted: February 20, 2015 in Poems
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A Single Bookend
From the book, Stained White Shirt. E-mail nortonnearly@hotmail.com for information on purchasing a copy of this book.

The thinker falls off the rock to his knees
cursed for seeking solutions
to problems others cannot see

Thinking alone seldom solves anything
but the thinker cannot stop
he thinks
and thinks
and thinks
and thinks

Rodin’s naked man
with chin in hand
ponders all things heaven and hell

A single statuesque reproduction of that man
rests on my shelf
gotten from father’s shelf
after his last thought
now my statue
now my curse

One thinker assures nothing
but that the books will fall

Rodin originally named his man, The Poet
thinker and poet
synonyms
as are poet and sufferer

The Thinker was cast in bronze
as are all who seek the rhyme

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Fences

Posted: February 22, 2014 in Poems
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Fences

I’m tired of my neighbor
six-foot-four of know it all obnoxiousness

it’s hard to be sensitive when you are six-foot-four
but could he try a little harder
please

he yells at the grandkids
he yells at the wife
he yells just so everyone can hear him

living near someone
doesn’t mean you are like them
I am beginning to understand
fences
parallel fences

the Sherriff came by
that neighbor is gonna lose his house
to foreclosure
I feel real bad and will miss him when he’s gone
but for now, this neighbor needs a fence
soundproof if they make one

he screams at everybody
knows it all
or so he thinks

he’s not a bad guy
really
he means well
but he pushes everyone around him
deep down into his well

maybe foreclosure stress
is behind
his nastiness
what then
was his previous excuse

habits form
we drown in them
and become them

maybe in his new place
he’ll calm down, relax
stop yelling
know less
lose a few inches

I’ll never know
he’s one of those neighbors who once gone,
you never see them again

with new neighbors
maybe I won’t want a fence
maybe they will

when neighbors
pull out of their driveways
they go in different directions

Landing Gear Down

Posted: February 1, 2014 in Poems
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Landing Gear Down

the flight attendant
burned a passenger with hot coffee
and the large woman behind me
sneezed disease onto the back of my head
and the fragile man across the aisle
snore-drooled a puddle onto his serving tray
and the cranky baby
howled in a language unrecognized by the adults
and the starchy suit
shrugged off the troubling headlines
and the rasta wanna-be
dreamed of fields of ganja
and the fat lady sang her song
and the plane crashed
and everyone died
and I woke up
on a flight to somewhere else
to the screaming sound of a burned passenger

Demons

Posted: January 11, 2014 in Poems
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Demons

there’s tons of insanity
in after hours bars
drinking, smoking
getting and givin scars

over in that building Mam
I crashed my car
she’s worrying about injuries
you’re thinking about the next bar

waking up with dark spots
all over last night
not knowing if you tripped and fell
or got into another fight

what the hell’s her name
roll over and peak
you barbecued the sausage
and didn’t really speak

hallucinating at the Jersey shore
in the middle of March
a fall off the jetty
sure takes out the starch

it became a tap dance
along the sharp side of the blade
life is nothing more
than what the hell you made

you can only march on
you can’t undo the done
you must scrape up the remainder
and tally another sum

you can’t ever forget
who you used to be
conviction can fall into trouble
so you must be prepared to flee

your life was saved
by two pair of blue eyes
but the demon still tempts
as surely as it lies

there’s tons of insanity
in after hours bars
drinking and smoking
getting and givin scars

Growing Up

Posted: August 24, 2013 in Poems
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Growing Up

I once saw a kitty being eaten
by maggots.
Everyone involved was
alive.
I was nine
and I have never forgiven myself
for not grabbing a big rock
and crushing the kittens skull.
But at the time
I didn’t want the blood
on my hands.
I called out sick to school
took the easy way
home
to shame.
I was nine
and didn’t know what
to do.

I once saw a baby bunny
chewed up in the fan of a dryer.
I got the little thing out
alive.
I was fifty
and I knew I was right
to grab a coal shovel
and crush the rabbits skull.
And I still have
the bunny’s blood
on my hands.
I showed up for work
completed the tough
job
of pain.
I was fifty
and I did know what
to do.