Poetry Blog by d.knape

We enter into

that final phase

expressed in sleep

and slow malaise

we shrink in size

our mind declines

we deteriorate

in many ways

no more the rage

of primal youth

we slowly learn

the somber truth

that like a tree

now without fruit

life was too brief

death in our roots.

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If you are hard of hearing

you may call our

Hearing-Impaired line

@ 1-800-What?

when you hear the beep

press one for service

oh that's right

you can't hear can you?

well never mind

the hearing line obviously

still needs some work

we have a committee set up

to make recommendations 

we should hear back from them soon

public input and feed...

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Rising early

I hear the paper boy outside

throwing the newspaper

I have to give him credit

everyday he comes on time

rain or shine

and he always hurls the paper

square in the center of the driveway

which in itself is quite a feat

I always hear the chug of his truck

the one-note plop of the chunked paper

as it hits the pavement

how adroitly he slings it

s...

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Ice in a glass

clinks

against the side

blocks of ice

floating like

ice bergs

in North seas

the chips are ships

gone down to

storms inside

the glass of ice

they melt away

like thoughts

once thought

but lost

no rafts to save

as memory sinks

dissolving into

a watery grave

of what used

to be.

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birds

under the feeder

cold feathers

cold feet

some get fat

some get nothing

kinda like life itself

cold reality.

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To become rich

easy as pie

go to the laundromat

and apply

your skill at finding

coins that dropped

from coin returns

likely as not

You'd be surprised

what people leave

two dollar bills

would you believe

and in the washer

you might find

a buck or two

were left behind

In hurried ways

some folks forget

the coins they used

and the...

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The smell of old books

will soon get one hooked

One cannot wait

to open and look

The journey of a lifetime

is then undertook

Away in lost nooks

the adventure of books.

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They crumble and

then caravans fall

along a wall

of dirt debris

and many come

to be enthralled

at sight of all

there is to see

as caravans fall

men are appalled

at such a sight

as scenes like these

can something stall

so more won't fall

into the arms

of the waiting Sea.

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Just a working stiff

work minimum wage

the midnight shift

what little it pays

work when I can

poor working man

the work repeats

but then again...

The bills come in

the rent is due

it costs to live

resources few

work's all I know

no time for friends

work 'till I die

then ...stiff again.

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is that your eyesight goes

which means you don't see all the things

deteriorating around you

you don't see the dirt and dust

the things that need fixing

the cobwebs

Another good thing is

you don't hear too good either

which means you don't pick up on

all the ugly things being said on TV 

and you can also use the excuse

I didn't hear you

to get out of w...

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in the old days

people paid cash

for things they needed

either that or they

dealt with a store

that would carry their tab

on the books

but payin' cash

was regular routine

there weren't no credit or debit cards

and all banks were local

you either had the cash

or you didn't

if you didn't

you saved until you did

dollars and cents

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Waves of poems

are in my bones

It seems I can't leave

them alone

Poems pull and tug

till out they come

the mystery is

why I am prone

No turning back

control I lack

where there is one

there are much more

Poems ebb and surge

till they emerge

like waves crash on

the waiting shore.

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Plastic Jesus on the dashboard

St. Christopher pinned to the visor

a rosary around the rear view

all the insurance he needs

just in case

he hits a fire hydrant or a house

or another speeding car

when the flashing lights come on

one last gulp before he's pulled over

patted down and tested

he walked the line

but fell off before the end

drunk tank bl...

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He cannot remember

his own name or

those of his children

has no idea where he is

he has become disconnected

from the past

knows only the moment

his spouse is the one who suffers

he just wanders around

not realizing who he is

not knowing or understanding

where he is

all the pressure is on her

the feeding

the bathing

the watching after

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A pig can root

so can a tree

root beer is neat

root for your team

a root canal

is not so keen

roots make no noise

compared to beans.

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In the early morning

great flocks of geese

fly overhead

honking in exuberance

exhilarated with the morning

the beauty of the lake

the snap of cool air

they announce their presence

with joyful noise

like trumpeters warming up

an orchestra in the sky

singing so jubilantly

as if they had just discovered life

found happiness

in the sunrise

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Fish and visitors

smell after three days

make them go away

to heaven we pray

dear God make them leave

we beg you persuade

fish and visitors smell

make the smell go away.

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My life not lived

in cars or planes

or cruise ships

all my rainbows

found

in treasured words

with any luck

I'll find my

pot of gold

a finished poem

the end of every

rainbow's arc.

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Need we have margins

straight as they be

lines of our limits

defined boundaries

Restricted spacing

that seeks to impede

squeezed between margins

with less opportunity

Let us instead be

boundless and free

with limitless freedom

where men can succeed

Margins confine us

to conformity

freedom becomes us

our margin of victory.

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Take an old poem

that was stored up in the attic

set it up on a desk and go to work

strip off the old worn out cliches

fill in the holes of missing words

then sand it down

to the bare essentials

put on a good primer

to give it an even base

then finally paint it

with a bright shiny enamel

of imagery and meter

don't leave any bumps

let it sit

let it dry

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I told my wife

I'm going down to the mail box

if I'm not back in 30 minutes

it's because I have fallen

and can't get up

she replied

make sure you fall on the lawn

and not into the street

you know how the HOA is

they have that No Litter policy.

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