M.C. Newberry on WEEKLY WALKABOUTSVERSE, E.G., 207 of 230: REGARDING DRUG ABUSE
30 minutes ago
All of life is poetry
a half-baked layered poem
my window is the picture frame
that calls my eye to roam
frozen silent evergreens
with dark serenity
they're preaching self-reliance
but hide mendacity
November leaves dead yellow-brown
swirl littered on the road
their song tells of an aging dream
that failed to unfold
a needled pine stares blackly down
unwilling to release
Monday 25th January 2021 5:21 am
Many years ago I met a lovely girl.
She was fun to talk with about most anything
We walked through woods
and climbed some hills together,
She made lunch for picnics that we shared.
We walked on beaches, felt the crunch
of wet sand underfoot,
listened to seagulls and ocean waves,
and felt the caress of sea breezes.
We gathered shells with no place to keep them.
We were caught i...
Monday 30th March 2020 1:19 pm
I tried to write a sonnet. I was quite proud of it, but it didn't win.
Engaged since birth against one deadly foe,
A mortal combat all must surely yield,
No clemency or kindness can we know,
No soul alive will leave this battlefield.
The lines of combat proudly crease my face,
My hair turns slowly, unabashed, to gray.
I must accept with honour and good grace,
Wednesday 25th March 2020 9:01 pm
How can I tell you that I love you?
I've said the words so many times; it's old hat to you.
I could quote Browning's poem of how she loved.
I'd say it's mine and mean every metaphor,
but you'd know she wrote it and you'd quote it.
I can write love poems just for you,
and every word I write is true,
though I'm not adept with metaphors
and don't use fancy words.
I can bring valentine...
Tuesday 24th March 2020 1:17 pm
While the world
goes about their day
talking about trival things,
laughing their troubles away,
I am struck with
that I try to contain.
Everyone close to me
to my suffering.
Why should they care?
They have their own
drama to deal with.
There is nothing
anyone can do anyway.
Meanwhile, my body
betrays me more
each passing day.
I want t...
Friday 11th October 2019 5:25 am
I wrote this poem for my wife's birthday.
Salutations for Sally
The years don’t pass slowly anymore,
But there’s still time for an eternity
In your eyes, in your arms, your love.
Each moment a step to infinity,
But time doesn’t march, it ascends,
And we rise on the years,
Sadder, yes, but wiser and
More loving, more understanding.
And you lift everything around you...
Monday 10th December 2018 11:51 am
Minds mould cannot always bend to the will - Look!
A blur of surreal reality:
it’s vivid, a memory, a means
but travel through years
and maybe it’s a dream,
or the worst fear:
(for the youth with infantile stretch marks to hear)
For the youths with flat ironed flesh and barely dogmarked ears,
what we all fear
is to forget.
Tell the boy with the newly ...
Thursday 7th June 2018 3:52 pm
a week ago
a professor asked me
what i wanted to do with my life,
the quesiton caught me wrong-footed;
two decades ago
learning to walk,
a decade ago
learning my body,
5 years ago
3 years ago,
accepting my body
a month ago,
accepting who i am
thrust into the unknown,
an oblivion that teases me;
infinite doors t...
Tuesday 6th March 2018 11:13 pm
Autumn changes me
I grow stiff as a tree
The falling memories
Are piling all around me
And my color changes
Emptying into grey
I feel broken and cold
As the November rain
Turns into December Snow
Wednesday 3rd January 2018 2:23 pm
I remember him now and then
When I’m feeling brave enough to recall my childhood
He was a welcome break from the ceaseless banality of the suburbs
I’d see him every Saturday morning on my way to work
Damp panatela clamped between his gums
Stained string vest and pyjama bottoms
Smirking like he’d just told a racist joke that no one had heard
‘Morning sport’ h...
Monday 22nd June 2015 5:31 pm
did I ever say I was “good people”?
some days I miss the hasty shouting
the crack of fist on salted cheekbones
better that than the nauseous choice
of considered upholstery or designer phones
never weather appropriate, rather, accident
ripped and bleeding, waiting for some other
and days my head will fill with men of war
always in shock yet mostly in awe
Sunday 22nd December 2013 5:02 pm
as the dew dropped tulip two-steps over my tongue
so a pubic slaughter of moonbeams and drag queens
leaves so little space in-between the longing
hung, low slung, below the eaves of this curious abode
where pregnant questions await the gaunt relief
of a crucified thief who has chosen his flavour
so sure the house has fallen on the queen of the east
love thy nei...
Thursday 27th December 2012 7:12 pm
When you reach the forgotten age
like 45, between 40 & 50
you realise that you need someone
by your side to remind you
that it isn't who you're with
but what you feel in your heart
they say life begins at 40
they also say that it's the mid life crisis
for sure you're no longer young
and for sure have not attained seniority either
Sunday 8th January 2012 8:41 am