Of a Day a Lifetime Ago

A man,
a rifle,
a Dallas motorcade,
and then,
a nation mourning

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020

When I See Your Eyes

When I see your eyes,
I want to be there,
where your window soul
stares back at me.
Touch me,
I will touch you back,
hands holding hands
captive in your arms,
captive in your heart,
and the years together
spread out before us,
stretching from our now,
until our forever.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

I Will Never Write My Obituary

I bleed before the world
in many different ways,
by rocks and knives
and paper cuts,
sometimes it is blue
sometimes it is red,
every time it feels real,
because it really is.
I bleed before the world,
cutting myself open
that it may read the entrails
through what my poetry says.
But this (upon reflection) is not
what will be written of me
after I have died
and it only concerns me now
while I am still alive.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020

My Manner of Muse

My manner of muse
(rampant in the soul)
is cancer and medication,
my blessing and my curse.
I stand starved for affection,
a rose ripped of its petals,
having only bleeding thorns
dipped in tree toad toxin.
Do I poison you all?

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

Remembrances of Wounded Knee

It was a beautiful dream
that ended in the silence
of the dead laying
huddled and scattered
upon the winter ground.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

The Beautifully Brutal

I have no pretty paintings
of flowery poetic expression
to delight the senses,
or panoramic vistas
wrought in iambic pentameter
to lighten the human heart.
I emerge from shadows
as a Phantom masked in red,
revealing the dark and despair,
of a world seen
through obsidian eyes.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021

As He Slept

As he slept
the old man died,
a baby brother
to take his place.
And as he slept,
the whole world sang,
celebrating in the hope
of a brighter year ahead.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021