Sometimes I wake up to the soft whirring sound
Of the washing machine spinning clothes round and round,
The chirps from the sparrows sitting under the eaves,
The rustling and scraping as the wind blows the leaves,
The murmur of talk as someone speaks to the dogs,
The pit-pat on concrete as the running man jogs,
The noise from the pigeons as they feed from tin cups,
The beat of their wings as disturbed they fly up,
And as the room comes alight with the early-morn glow,
It’s telling me it’s time to get up and go.

From Entertaining Verse Poems
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)

The man who wears a leather belt and uses sensible words
loves her in cobalt violet, in the streaks of a hazy violent sky
after a storm has passed and she lets him
he claims that the egg people are coming, they’ll bring with
them handful of gifts of glory, of the things people hide
in the crevices of sidewalks, in the spaces where identity cards
are devoured by the teeth of the unknown
the television is always on and the static that surrounds them
is the serenading music she listens to before she falls asleep at night
she pretends that love is painting one’s nails while the other
loses their mind
as he laughs at the invisible neighbors outside the window
his bones can smell the coming of the apocalypse
and it’s not in the form of a swarm, or a flood
it comes in the bodies of girls with strawberry blonde
hair and that’s why he’s so drawn to her
and why his mother was swallowed by the earth
she learns that illness comes in permanent mauve
the walls of her room are covered in that hue
the boy she sneaks cigarettes from at the diner
in his car the color is almost a tangible personification
the smoke blows out into the crisp air like a bag of potato chips
the lungs constrict and expand
the thoughts hindered from years of yielding to the yellow sun
with the ****** robe
the child, the woman, the human lives in ****
but the thinker manages to escape years later
and live in the suburbs on an easy paycheck from
foolish strangers that believe that gasoline is a cheap party trick
and a fantastic high
she doesn’t recognize touch anymore besides
the harsh graze of asphalt hitting her knees
people seldom realize that freedom is not in
the way your toes curl but in the way they finally unfurl
how curious you can spot patterns where there are none
to be rescued does not always come in the way of clean arms

She loved him in transparent maroon
the grasp of warm sand kissing you gently

Sometimes I like to sit in the shade
On a park bench, watch the ducks on parade,
In a long line, smoothly swimming somewhere,
Causing hardly a ripple as they move here and there,
And gliding so gracefully, supercilious swans,
Plucking at grass from newly mown lawns,
See the flowers in bloom in yellows and reds,
Artfully arranged in bright flower beds,
The bees buzzing busily as they do their day’s work,
Hear the pigeon wings flap and the little birds chirp,
With trees in the background, every size, every shape,
Their reflections outlined in the shimmering lake,
The leaves multi-coloured in orange, brown and green,
Creating a sublimely harmonious scene,
All this, and the sun’s rays caressing the ground,
Tell me it’s heaven on earth that I’ve found.

From Entertaining Verse Poems
©Blair Gowrie (Roderick Macdonald)
http://www.macdonrod.com/EntertainingVersePoems.htm

is a familiar phrase
we like to flaunt
    especially
when we would like to utter a complaint
    about contemporary grievances
    god and the world & cetera

in doing so
we keep good company
from Socrates to Livius
    to Shakespeare, Goethe, Emerson,
    Whitman, Fitzgerald, Hurston, Vonnegut,
     Morrison, Angelou, Nabokov, etc.

I guess this is because
the times like these
are always those
in which we live

come vibe with me
between the sheets
lost hands searching for the sweet
spot--moving to a melody of hot sighs and
heavy breaths
pull me in closer
tight to your chest

&

trace your fingertips
through the valley
of my thighs and the curve of my hips;
i
mold myself around you
       slow down to take it all in;
i
fold myself around you
feel the fire in my kiss
when i stroke your stiff neck
then press it to my lips


(come vibe with me, babe
when you need to unwind
   --the pleasure is all mine.)

Keep my change of heart
Tell them to leave my bed
I don't need it anymore
I don't think it's time
No, I don't think it's time
to begin the spiteful intentions
Leave those for another day
Today, just sit back
The world is burning right before
my eyes
It's beautiful, trust me
Fires never really burn like this
But today, I see everyone's smiles
Melting off their fragile masks
into grey ash where
they all once stood
lying their
lifeless lives away.

the littlest
month coming
but I wished it stuffed

with all colors of peace
gratitude and smiles of
understanding a cold drink
can be sweet in silence
savored limbs stretched

infinite beauty my
thoughts a pillow
come lay with me

Decir:
te extrañé  te quiero  chulo
no será suficiente

decir:
eres mar que inunda mis espacios
el beso del tiempo suspendido

no será suficiente

ser:
la musa azul  ******  la altar
y todas las demas musas
a su vez o por separado
no será suficiente

no importa cuanto lo ames
siempre tendrá una historia alterna donde sufra

nunca te enamores de un poeta
por más amor que des       provoques

tiene prohibida la palabra amor
esos putos no saben amar
                                   le dirán nada a tanto
                                                          *y tanto a sus putas
ausencias.