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William A Poppen Mar 2014
Like the oak leaf hydrangea bud in May,
like the squirrels infest backyard  bird feeders ,
and like the train whistle echoes in the hollow
rolling through white pines and serviceberry branches,
her trust, in the shape of soft smiles and morning kisses,
permeates his every breath .
A short free style poem in search of a title.  Please suggest one.
William A Poppen Mar 2014
I settle near the Camellia  
as good fortune  
surrounds me.  

I wonder
how does  luck grow
leisurely around me?

I can't  recall pushing
a  lucky seed into moist dirt
of  a weathered slip ***.

Many friends and siblings feel
battle fallout as Zeus and Hades
hurl bolts of catastrophe at them.

Life is unfair.
Meek brothers and sisters will you
inherit the earth or misfortune?

Mishap, misadventure and calamity
do you lurk around the next bend
of my fair weather journey?


.
Critical comments appreciated
William A Poppen Mar 2014
Fingers wrap around
cracked plastic steering wheel
of the forty-eight Ford
while curved glass bottles
of *** and coke
perch on the crest
of the dashboard.

I cup her left breast,
explore for
another short-lived feel
as my breath wrestles
with the scent of
lavender beneath her ear.

Tingles and beads of sweat
inter-mingle damp
on my collar.
My lips labor
toward her cheek
methodically
like a grandfather
ascending a steep stairway.

Her nylon-protected thigh
burns against my gabardines
kicking static electricity
off of sagging seat covers.

I fumble with the catch
of her bra against her back.

Parked here to spoon
feels better than
playing amateur baseball.
No audience
watches me
drop the ball
or toil to get
to second base.
Thursday night dances at the lake included a break for the band.
William A Poppen Mar 2014
Bent over, pen in hand
carefully squeezing between
thumb and forefinger

Looking up to scrolled
white on black cards,
a's and b's

Performance at chalkboard
do so carefully
each stoke and space

Turn the handle slowly, steady
hold the yellow number two
firmly in the sharpener

Practice capitals
slow movement with slight pressure
leave space between words

Circle, circle, fill the page
loops, curls
wave upon wave across the lines

Write your name
no printing allowed
this will be your identity
* USA politicians and educators debate the value of cursive writing in a world of technology
William A Poppen Mar 2014
The wait
massages my soul
as I become still.
My breathing
finds a cadence
like a monk in meditation.  

In my dream
you pose for me
as your tongue
licks nectar
from petunia buds.  

I conjure
florescent shades
unlike those
any artist
can splash
on canvas.  

The wait for you
is as near to heaven
as I fathom
I will get
while here on earth.
I don't remember if I wrote this after waiting for a hummingbird to come in range of my camera or if I was awaiting my love to return home to me.
William A Poppen Mar 2014
I want a day with a morning mist
that burns off
as the sun finds its way
through the thin trunks of Loblolly pines
along the river.

I want to *****
over logs and through bogs
and find my way around the bend
among whatever crawls, digs and hunts
along the river.

I want to feel like the first person
to sink my heels into untrammeled riverbank
and discover what raccoon and ****** know;
there is promise here
along the river.

I want to blaze a ****** path
and hear cracks, snaps, and squishes play a song
with each step of my boot
along the river.

I want to see what is
beyond the bend  
along the river.
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