is never the right answer
when she asks,
how much have you had to drink.
Didn't the marriage counselor
say "always be honest,
never be afraid to show your true feelings"
I want my money back.
My pencil lead broke
and my pen was dry
so I tuned the radio
to a Nashville Station
but this late at night
the only sounds that came were voices
advertising household cleaners
It was that or Late Saturday night preaching,
a repeat from last Sunday;
so I listened to a man
get grease stains from laminate flooring
and burned oil from a porcelain stove top
while I searched for a sharpener
to trim my pencil to a writable level
The stand of timber
on my great-grandfather’s farm
died an unaristocratic death --
In the Spring of 1987
the old man left;
quietly and alone, he released
back the breath given to him
at his birth.
His body, rested without a headstone.
Three volleys stilled the air
in hushed reverence broken by
the sound of taps playing in a
When the salutes were rendered
and the flags lowered
black smoke rose to the heavens
as the land was harvested for the precious
rock that lived beneath.
What is it about beer
That makes my poetry
Bearable, even good;
Something about how
The words flow across
The page, or move;
They sure seem to be
Blurred lines shaped
Forming words that
Move hte srpite
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I was born in the Bluegrass state
and I love to hear the fiddle
strings hum. Banjo pickers
get all the fame
and you can hear the clogger's heels
tapping through the holler
But when I'm down on the river front
and in the mood to play
I crave the pull of the slide trombone
and the sad moan of a saxophone
gets me in the mood
So quit sending me all these bluegrass toons
Scruggs and Flatt, and all that
Cuz, baby Jazz is where it's at.
"Pardon me, boy, but isn't that
the Chattanooga Choo-choo"
People watched as we sang
on the banks of the Tennessee River.
We danced on the sidewalk with the setting sun
to the rhythm of clapping hands
and a far away sax, moaning through crowded alleys.
The city breaths at night
and pulses with the sounds
of street musicians, playing
for a few bucks and some coins.
The foot bridge is busy
on a warm Spring night
joggers dodge tourists
and the locals ignore them both;
children lick ice cream
and mom searches for the next wine bar,
while college students huddle under the bridge
and lovers, young and old
are moved by the mood of the city lights.