So many false starts and blind
alleys have pointed us to lands
we promised to younger selves.

So many good intentions paved
our patios and pathways, not to
hell, but to a kind of anti-******.

Meaning is not an unfound grail.
It resides in footprints and glows
in each creaking backward glance.

We are never where we want to be.
For now we are somewhere, maybe.
Relax. Catch breath and thank stars.

Tony Noon

Self contained, the late cars are
full of angst about recent pasts
and possibly ambiguous futures.

A swishing denial of the night,they
try to convince us in passing that
they have everything under control.

Tony Noon

Maybe it’s drama I’m thinking of,
where events rumble towards
some half anticipated dilemma,

before resolution emerges from
changed hearts illuminated by
an arithmetic of revealed notions.

Poetry has less space, mostly, to
tug emotions and take us through
clouds and controversy to an edge.

This poem ends where day begins,
with blue skies and the rising sun,
a familiarity which is always new.


Tony Noon

All this data swirling
running rings around
our fixed viewpoints

We cannot build a box
large enough to store
our misunderstanding

There will not be a day
when it all adds up not
one day it makes sense

Tony Noon

It isn’t Paris but it is.

As the light washes
over late afternoon
walls full of us and
other people’s lives.

As the music charms
our old bones we can
add context to our list
of rolodex happenings.

As the shadows hint at
mystery beneath every
shining moment we can
justifiably glint and smile.

It isn’t Paris…but it is.



Tony Noon

Whatever they were intended to be
they landed just right.Tumbling dice,
facets both sharp and ethereal, in a
shared moment of recognition which
brought out the best of the bad times.

We were both the smoke and the light
while it lasted, and we could forget our
same and sorry days of hard emotions,
when hope was diluted by best interests,
to let words flow effortlessly. Like water.


Tony Noon

I remember him telling me
how, as the waters fell back,
he marked the level to show
us what had been reclaimed.

Beneath this unremitting sun
it is hard for me to take it in.
Such an abundance of water.
Up there.Way above my head.


Tony Noon