Under The Hummer Tree

featured in the poetry forum April 13, 2015  :: 0 comments

The Hummer Tree,
Sacred pillar of our school community.
Site of countless hummers.

All-season hummers.
The Hummer Tree bare
And party to blue-lipped, quick, cold-trembling hummers.
New growth, new blowers and blowees.
Hot, sweaty, teenage-fumble hummers,
Welcome cool shade and relative darkness
So as not to showcase the hummer too much,
Or get too hot.

And of course, dry, scratchy leaves falling on my head,
Both heads,
All the heads,
Giving head hidden from the Head
And her Deputy Head hummers.

No matter the season it was always
Cool to be given or to give
A hummer under the Hummer Tree.

©2014

– Simon Pinkerton

editors note:

Hum, um. If you don’t know this tune, ask someone to blow a few bars for you. – mh

Heavy Shoe

featured in the poetry forum April 9, 2015  :: 0 comments

Coming back in the darkness
after the match
through old pit villages
with the light from newsagents
illuminating the pavements
and the lads on the bus
strike up a chorus of
‘footsteps on the dancefloor’
slamming down their boots
on the top deck
and chanting ‘heavy shoe’
The laughter, the beer fumes,
heading for home
and a night in the local.

– Jon Tait

editors note:

Light in the head, but not on the feet. Home is home enough. – mh

THE WHITE MOTHS

featured in the poetry forum March 31, 2015  :: 0 comments

Sleep between the leaves
in the secret dawn
of summer’s fallen shanty town.

They drowse in the clasp
of veined, watery leaflight,
in nature’s frail golden eggs,

In shells and tatters and curls
spun from the coin-washed sky.
In the quiet, cold,

Clinging to the damp walls,
red tinged their houses rattle,
turn over under the rake.

And suddenly they are trembling.
Because it is the season—
smoke swirls across the yard.

They are the meek, the helpless.
Baptized by the rain, they will not inherit.

Too small this town.

– Russell Brickey

editors note:

Too often meek is mauled, raped by the rake of mighty. – mh

Octogenerity

featured in the poetry forum March 29, 2015  :: 0 comments

Never thought I’d live to see
My own Octo-gen-er-ity
The daily complement of pills
Have staunched so many ills

I am the first in my line
To reach this magic time
As I stand to face
The finish of the race

Each day I go anew
To confront life’s brew
Of ache and tired muscle
Amid our diurnal bustle

I take my quotidian stand
A toast to Medicine Grand
For a long and healthy life
Buttressed by my loving wife

– Milt Montague

editors note:

Better living, longevity and love – through chemistry. Viva, Milt! – mh

VICTIM

featured in the poetry forum March 27, 2015  :: 0 comments

An orange jumpsuit
Fiendish rogues
Stung by zeal
White-hot iron
In measured
doses of pain
I hang off a rock
In a storm of stardust
My soul clings
To desert winds
No smokes
For fifty years
I crave a cigarette
Red lights flash
A siren blasts
Fingers bleed
Teeth fall out
My tongue
has disappeared
I gasp for breath
My headless body
no longer belongs to me
I’m a pebble
Kicked down a road

– Milton P. Ehrlich

editors note:

A sorry plight; cravings addressed with a kick in the teeth and roll on the road. – mh

The Tear on the Cheek

featured in the poetry forum March 26, 2015  :: 0 comments

There it goes,
There it overflows,
There it wanders

In a swift feather-like manner
When wind blows
Running thither

As if to be forgotten
To be the dew
Inside a book bitterly written

To moan in silence
To hurt to torn
To be doomed to an everlasting mutiny

– Ilhem Issaoui

editors note:

Write the book sweetly; squeeze that tear from joy, instead. Write sweetly! – mh clay

Tumbling Tides

featured in the poetry forum March 20, 2015  :: 0 comments

The ocean waves,
consistent, slow,
as your dark eyes
slide down a-wash.
They touch me now,
they spin my stars,
I go from child
to woman’s roll
like running tides
becoming fluid.
From warm to hot,
a racing sea.

– Barbara Franzen

editors note:

Erotic riptide roilings; bubbling bumptious boilings. Love going to the beach! – mh

Patriarchy

featured in the poetry forum March 15, 2015  :: 0 comments

I was born to a man
Who knew no limitations
And sacrificed himself
Willingly
To the god within.

Confident what was here
Always would be,
He engraved family names
On anything
Affordable.

As rightful heir
To this immortality,
I blew the ashes
From my hand.

His death
Will include his heaven
And we—
His children—
Will burn
The throne.

– Jerry Moffitt

editors note:

The better legacy is statue toppled for human remainder. – mh

Wall Rhapsody

featured in the poetry forum March 11, 2015  :: 0 comments

These walls our elders built
on hills of root and clay;
the piles mute where
watch towers wait
for consonance in light.

A tune ruminates inside,
uncanny in the cavities.
First the fossil bleed
breathes the stain back
to whitewashed whispers;

the cattleshed rattles,
bolted to the well and
a draught in the rain song
roams the drop down to
silence, waterlocked

a spell, till stone traps
it in holes again and a
low call sucks the ruin,
the crow stalks. A rumour
in the wall calls to war

now measured with its beak,
to fingers dancing darkly
on the ivory, the strain
in piano keys an officer
scales, beating vowels

of desolate air, vocals
crowding loudly to exile
from corners and crescendos
a shadow flares, entomb
the final note fall.

He lies in waxing smoke,
his tunic lead on open sky,
his rifle pointed to the night,
melody « in memorium »,
in minor

and the awful quiet.

– Blaithin

editors note:

A city sings in silence. The sentinel stands guard. – mh

Elusive

featured in the poetry forum March 6, 2015  :: 0 comments

I had it in hand in my bath,
right here, the soap, the truth,
but then it escaped me, no reason.

This happens, I calm myself, be reason-
able. Lie back. When your bath
involves a search for truth,

it’s a slippery soap grope. In truth
everyone now and then takes a bath
in the marketplace tub of reason.

Truly, with reason. Bathing next, grasp this.

– Richard Swanson

editors note:

Taken to the cleaners as the market gets filthy rich – this makes us wise. Selah. – mh