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 Jan 2018 spysgrandson
r
Sing-ing
 Jan 2018 spysgrandson
r
Poetry
to me
is taking
my pain
and making
it sing.
 Jan 2018 spysgrandson
L B
She may walk through crowds
unseen
An advantage of her age
poking through products  
at her own distracted speed
Feeling fruit or sniffing soap
Reading labels
fine print through two pair of glasses
turning slightly
hoping no one sees...
how gone it's getting....

She may lean on cart at check-out
just shy of your usual...
Old
who ask for double bags
Nope, she will not slow the line that way
Remembering work
assesses pain
shifting weight to other leg
to spare an aching knee

Not one for counting desperate change
Not arguing every item on receipt
Not fumbling coupons
nor writing checks

...will not slow the line...

reluctant to let go of youth
Remembering exhaustion's day
she will not slow the line that way--
Fiddles with smart phone
(Yes, she knows how!)
to pass the time
She fumbles through her purse--
God only knows
what “old folks” look for
Probably glasses, tissues, gum,
or
"Where the hell's my keys!"

Stopping by a news rack
on the way out
Is she waiting for a cab?
Who cares!
Outta way, she stops to read
The New York Times, WaPo, Journal
Thee chapters of a novel
Outside their pay-walls
The mind beneath the woolen cap
is at it
grazing once again, for free
Where she often likes to feed--
her curiosity
No one sees her watching
from the inside out
and the corner of her eye

But what to do about that cat litter?
or ½ and ½
on highest shelves?
she simply cannot reach....

Always some tall good-lookin' guy around
to flatter
his size
looking for dog kibble, “big game snacks” or beer

She plays
the old lady card so well
...and somehow
gets what she needs
Always shop during dinner hour.
Shop DURING the snow storm, just as it's beginning.  :)
For Ilion: Sleep, Return to It*

young man of Manhattan
sleep, return to it,
we must stop meeting on the corner of 125th & Broadway at 3am

young father - thy life thy future thy child -
depend on it

as do I -
depend upon thy poetry*

for you are the lion of youth,
I, the graybeard of past paths,
no need of sleep in my dwindling days,
but time bids you welcome,

- thy life thy future thy child -
all ask me, let him come to us
refreshed


7/7/17 4:49am
Manhattan
always a poem in reserve for you
 Jan 2018 spysgrandson
Born
5
                   a
               e      r
           y             s

since I joined hello
a larva with a torn soul
Clinging to Whatever's left of life

since I started scratching for light
Peeking at the  deeming tunnel
but still hoping

since I started dinning with poets
eating haiku in the morning
drinking sonnet in the afternoon
feeling the aching agony of the broken in the evening
falling in love with the dreamers at night

Since my heart was pounded
wrecked and left with unspeakable pain

Since Born was birthed
a crawling character that was literally dying
but still screaming for hope, love and dream

Since Ismael Ibrahim aka Born
stopped existing
and started living
I appreciate every single one of you for making this journey possible. In good, bad and worst I poured out my heart to you guys and you showed me nothing but love. Thank you
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