Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Glenn Currier Nov 13
If I were to describe my day
narrate my movements
write a poem about the bluebird on the fence,
call out my dead brother’s name,
decide to cook supper tonight,
or speak my feelings of jealousy,
who would listen?

And if before finishing my narrative
I decide it is not worth
anyone pausing to spend
the time or energy
to read or listen,
then how far would I get in my effort
to even write a word,
speak a phrase,
think deeper than a layer of dust,
or feel anything beyond the weight of shame
prompting my doubts?

But if I think
someone MIGHT read or listen,
then  it might be worth the effort.

If I think there is definitely
an audience of One
who cares to stop and really pay attention
then yes
I'll write it.
I'll speak it.
Glenn Currier Oct 24
We take time
to read from our wisdom books.
We ask questions,
pausing to think
before we speak.
We tell stories from our journeys.
We laugh,
tears on the brink of our eyes.
We speak from the tulip bulbs
of the gratitude
about to spring from our *******.
We sigh
upon the fruit
of this interlude together.
Glenn Currier Oct 24
You did not sing to me
in the cool of the evening
nor plant a lyric in my slumber at noon.

I did not breathe in the your joy
as I freely swung in the blue sky
peered upward in the pail of the balloon.
  
You were gone when my stomach tensed
scanning the spread sheet
my stocks trending downward.

Hammering on my patio project
sweat spilled from my brow.
You, absent from my now.

I blamed you for leaving me,
for my edgy mood and emptiness.
But it was I who slammed the door to the sweet  vapors
of your spirit as I absorbed myself
in the foggy persuasions of my evasions.
Glenn Currier Sep 23
If we are obedient
we will be broken.

When I submit to my calling
as a human being,
if I am true to the ambition
of the puffy spear-shaped cloud,
to the voice of the smooth rock
formed as a heart,
I will stop
stay still
let their messages
sink through the borders of my brain
saturate the surging energy
within.

I will allow myself to be pierced
by her fears of being evicted  
I’ll feel the angst about her futility
before the indifferent landlords.

I will ignore my own heartache
about Uncle Jan’s fanatical raging
and instead
ask him about his son’s cancer
hug him when he breaks down sobbing.

Obedience
to the highest measures of my humanity
has its costs…

and rewards.
Glenn Currier Sep 12
Hallelujah from the heart of Leonard Cohen
just took Leonard and his old scratchy voice
into my heart. What a gift my music app
just slung into my afternoon
to wake me from my late afternoon fatigue.

I do not take these tech gifts for granted
remembering when I would have to get the LP album
from off the crammed shelf and play it on a turntable.

Here in a moment of peace
I look up and see the trees
and the neighbor’s garden
beyond my windows.

And I thank God for this lovely peaceful moment
thank my old piano teacher
and the conductor of the Houston Youth Symphony
where I sang before my voice changed
and my parents who carpooled me from our suburb
to the old auditorium downtown
where my young mind and soul were nourished
by adults who cared for our young minds and voices.

Who knew that the gifts of these people
would spring up in my mind eight decades later
and mental images of Leopold Stokowski who directed us
at a grand concert in the Houston Music Hall.
He loved children but delivered high pitched hell
to the symphony players at rehearsals.
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading my reminiscences, lovely thoughts and feelings on a cooling evening in Dallas, Texas USA.
Glenn Currier Sep 12
Before I woke this morning
this title was peeking through the cobwebs,
eventually waking me before dawn.

Now with Bernstein’s Grofe Grand Canyon Sunrise
is playing before first light, violins barely audible,
mules waking up with their weird wail
ready to hit the high trail.
Those magnificent odd beasts.

My old body still  dull,
my left hip protesting the early wake,
my brain puzzling with this title
me saddling the mules
for their trudge down the curvey canyon walls,
young adventurers on their old swaying backs.

Here I am looking out over the trees beyond the back yard
into the gray dawn.
I write with the thought of visiting my old friends
on the poetry website,
they probably wondering where I’ve been for the last several months
with  nary a word posted there.

Last night, the Beatles’ White Album played,
those young shaggy heads
awake with popping images
tunes and words tumbling from John and Paul,
they  too, like me, oblivious of where the trail would  lead.

Put me back together.
That’s what the Great Spirit is trying to do
between my synapses
while they still stir up there in the attic
among the dusty old books and broken furniture
and the all but forgotten dreams there
among the silverfish.

Recently Moses was trying to teach me and the new generation
in Deuteronomy
before they crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land.,
his old body still holding on in the mountains
where he would finally be laid to rest.
I  never thought I would get anything from that old book
but Moses had one more old mind to reach.
I am grateful his words were preserved
for me before I too make it up
beyond the top of the mountain
finally put together.
Glenn Currier Jul 10
Dew collects on each tiny blossom
reflecting on
every pedal and sparkling
anger, blue, white and new
morning light multiplied
sapphire makes broken dreams worth it
I haven't tried an acrostic in ages, so here's breaking the ice on a sleepy morning..... I woke up way too early this morning so I read a poem in a collection of one  of our poets on HePo and it inspired me to get out of bed and write him a message here. And then this poem arrived. Thanks Thomas Case!
Next page