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Francie Lynch Nov 2016
BeforeTV

Before TV,
When we were together,
Before growing apart
From father and mother,
We entertained ourselves with song;
All the sisters and brothers.

We gambolled in the backyard,
The clothes line was our zip line,
We fell soft, then hard.

We somehow got a hold of skates,
Not knowing what they're for,
So we took turns,
Laced them on,
To skate on cement floors.

We raised a high jump,
Skipped on the driveway,
Double Dutch and Speed;
We strung a line for volleyball,
Nailed a hoop below the roof,
Played soccer in the hall.
We paddled ping-pong on the table;
Our household freedom
Made us as grateful
As animals in a well-kept stable.

Some winters we'd flood the back,
And shoot and slide until the cracks
Turned to puddles,
Then I'd sail popsiclestick boats
Over oceans,
To distant folks.

On the frontwalk we tossed our stones,
Landing on the moon,
And hopscotch til we went for soup
And soda bread and **** milk.

If we had a ball and bat,
Chances are we'd not come back
'til the sun went down;
And then,
When the stars came out,
We'd *Hide and Seek,

Til the last one'd shout,  Home Free.
With dirt and patchwork dungarees,
We went in
For good-night tea.

Weren't we the normal family?

Then we got our first T.V.

After T.V.

We were landed,
Not gentry,
And we started channelling
U.S. T.V.

We weren't polite like Cartwrights,
Nor guaranteed Lil' Joe's birthright.

The sisters locked on Patty Duke,
Then dressed the same
To get the look,
So they ditched their Wellie boots.


We'd lie on the floor,
Stuck like glue,
On Sundays watch Ed's Big Shoe.
We didn't know the sun had left,
Our eyes were on the TV set.

The Cleaver boys still got dessert,
Though leaving green beans on their plate,
Left ice-cream and sweet chocolate cake.
We'd stare confused, yet salivate;
Such treats and food we'd never waste.

The Douglas boys had single beds,
En suites, bathrobes,
Hair on their heads;
Pillows and open windows,
And locks on doors,
They weren't co-ed.
We slept, at least, two to a bed,
Four to a room, two bedspreads.
We slept on mattresses with stinging springs,
Torn and traced with stale *****.
In the hot and humid summer,
In bathing suits
We'd swim in slumber.
Our small window couldn't open,
We roasted in our four walled oven.

We watched Lassie and Gomer Pyle,
Green Acres' Arnold had us beguiled.
We didn't get Father Knows Best,
His gentleness raised our regrets.
Lucy and Ricky, an odd couple,
Were always getting into trouble,
Like Fred and best bud, Barney Rubble.

Were these the models to emulate,
To blend in North of the United States?

These families had open conversations,
Shared their thoughts without hesitation.
Mine were full of consternation,
And alien, like My Favourite Martian.

We grew in a foreign land,
Beached like the cast on Gilligan.

Surely, we were Lost in Space,
Separate from the human race.
No gyroscope to set direction,
To separate fact from fiction.

We weren't stupid,
We were astute;
We weren't the ones on our TV.
We were a singular family.

Post T.V.

We numbered ten at the start,
Then aged and drifted far apart;
We can't gather to watch TV,
As we were once wont to be.
But I remember Ernest T.,
Throwing rocks to win Charlene,
And arrested by Sheriff Andy.
We laughed at all the silly doings
Of Barney, and Thelma Lou's wooings.

I send e-mails and textual banter,
(One brother still likes writing letters),
Reminding me of our early days,
How TV censured our innocent ways.

We never were small screen.
We emigrated to Canada from Ireland in 1957. A brave new world.
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2013
Back to my land of verdant green
To feel the bite of winter chill
To know that while all this is so
That far off land enthralls me still.

That far off land of granite peaks
Of crystalline white massif high,
Of conifer which scale the *****
Of rocky outcrop to the sky.
The baking heat of desert mesa
Spread as far as eye can see
Sage bush in its fragrant aura
Tumble **** soon rolling free.
Squirrel dart on shale cascade
Of green grey slate on alpine flank
Bright blue birds in curious hover
...For this, my reeling senses thank.

Fishing boats in bright array
Adorn the West coast sheltered lee,
Crab and mackerel brim the bin
Of bearded fishermen with glee.
Pounding surf of North Pacific
Carves the rock of bastioned coast
Embryonic currents cold
Do modify the climate most.
Redwoods huge clad coastal ranges,
Bright geraniums do sing
From earthen pots outside the cafe
Hot coffee fragrant from within.

Hilarity as laughing people gather
Watch as yelling Serbs do sling
Huge silver fish across the stall
Amid Seattle's Pike's Place din.
Colour paints this market place
Flowers stacked in every hue
Noisy vendors bawl their product
Creamy ice cream cone for you.

Streaming dust in streaming hair
Scree slopes avalanche past for thrill
Mountain crevasse yawns aloof
As ATV's roar up the hill.
Wild terrain of wilderness
On mountaintop of forest fir,
Cougar, grizzly bear and wolf
In pack are found herein astir.
Atop the very precipice
We view the everlasting peaks
Magnificent in summer sun
Embalmed in snow when Winter speaks.

Freeways snake from coast to mountain
Clover leaf in junctions pile,
Forty ton trucks pull big trailers
Endless day for endless mile.
Barrel straight these concrete tarmacs
Stretching far as eye can see,
Headlong surge huge pickup trucks
But cautious eye for Sheriff be.
Roadside diners loud and raucous
Selling burgers, selling beer
Neon flashing through the night
Old ***** waitress' toothless cheer.

The years have clad our friendships well
Familiarity's warming hand
Allows resumption of our words
Despite the 40 year gap spanned.
Houseboat floats in crowded wharfage
Swimming through a clear cool lake,
Californian wine with friends
Hot chilli food and fresh bread bake.
Eye fillets grill on barbecue
See the distant mountain peaks
Summer snow endures aloft
Glows indigo as sunset speaks.

Endless skies of cobalt blue
Cloudless in the summer sun
Gracious denizens do offer
Generosity unsung.
Graciousness across the land
Across these people so diverse,
The wondrous gift of ready smile
Friendly hand and open purse.

History tells these people spoke
Electing leaders for their time
When sanity's quiet need arose
It was promulgated on the line.
With Washington and Lincoln
Through FDR to JFK,
The Presidents who bed-rocked
This Foundation for the nation's day.
Astounding, that exceptional men
Have carved this face from stone,
Have caste the global presence
That Americans call home.

I understand the feeling now,
Of pride and patriotic stance.
I understand the inner strength
Of America's great, true romance.

This poem bequeathed to our good friends who inhabit this land... Big Rich, Suzie and Mike, Our mate Stevo and Ian, Heidi, Wyatt and Cooper, Dear old Greg and his elegant lady, Holly.
But most of all, with gratitude and love, to our marvelous son Boaz and his lovely lady, Angela.

Marshalg & Janet
At "Foxglove", Taranaki... In the Southern hemisphere's mid winter.
2 August 2013
Ma Cherie Aug 2016
You were the boy next door
literally and figuratively
I loved you from the moment I saw you
Beautiful golden wavy hair
cut short but ****
soft eyes of a deer...
such a warm buttery brown

I used to fantasize about this feeling
though didn't know if
how, when, where...why
I was innocent as a newborn lamb
you seemed to only like me
or as if you only wanted ***

I was projecting or protecting
I am not certain
But the soft tender sensuous first kisses
I still can taste in my mouth
like sticky sweet caramel
every time I run my tongue over my lips
I remember....
I loved that mouth... and everything attached to it.

Our song was "Hello" by Lionel Richie
And you never knew
I thought of you constantly
after the kiss...for a long time
I waited

So I never thought you were coming back
Graduation came and with a determination
to undo the innocence
craving to know what everyone else already did
The night of baccalaureate
lyrical voices
"strawberry wine
seventeen...
hot July moon
saw everythin'
taste of love
Ahhhh bittersweet
like strawberry wine"
innocently
playing out for real
the most handsome guy there
Said he was 24
asked for a kiss... drunken silly, flirty girl
"Maybe... if I can get a burger first?"
he delivered so we kissed
though he was a gentleman that night
I made a date with destiny

Still remember
I wore a short denim skirt the front like button pants Confederates wear
so kissed warmly by the sun...tanned Native, naive skin...
a lacy white cotten tank top and these terrific kicks...black leather biker boots, square toed...kick ***
curly black long hair... hazel eyes
some say they can see green and gold in there...or something mysterious
Though I don't think I'm much of a mystery
I wore a little mascara... a bit of summertime blush and lip gloss
When I stepped out I got a "Wow"... so beautiful...**** girl"
I used to hear that sometimes but never felt that way... often times it made me uncomfortable
But I smiled and took his hand and trusted him
It was a barn dance so much fun
but I don't remember the ending so well
kind of fuzzy
I guess I drank too much
I do...I do...I do remember his touch
a strange smile just cursed my lips

So that summer I was with him
His father was a ***** pervert, an animal
and I couldn't stand to be around him
I remember jumping in the pool and it's ***** paws trying to touch me
If I told my Father
he would have killed him!
I remember he comforted me though
he did defend me that day
His mother was just such a horrible *****
I'm sure maybe because of his Father...
Brutally honest.. I suppose she told me I was just a plaything
I didn't believe her

Still don't... honestly
He used to like me to sing to him
In the back of his truck where we made a makeshift bed and we'd lie down looking at the stars....
and he left some pretty deep scars
But I remember...focus on the delightful, appealing  things too
like going to the lake and the engine died we had to paddle our way back
and there were bats overhead swooping and diving
He shrieked like a girl and I laughed...
we both did

As it turns out
He was seeing an older woman... I don't know how long
He was really 28 and so was she
Apparently they work together
To spare you the details I ran over his mailbox when I left and I never looked behind me...

I came back
your best friend
was dating my best friend
and you asked if I would go to the beach with you did you really think
I was going to say no?
I climbed in the car there you are
in the backseat
our eyes met like the day of the first kiss
I can still picture it now actually
you took my hand and you pulled me in
I laid my head on your lap...
Looking up in your eyes so happy to be home
we kissed again
finally...

I told you the story of how I'd been hurt
It did matter how much you'd flirt
or caress my hair, touch that spot...rub my neck... lift up my locks...and kiss me there, making yummy sounds...deep and seductive..
making yummy memories...

I was determined not to be hurt that way again
so you courted me for 9 months
And then you asked me to marry you...
So it was never all about ***...
although I know you thought I was **** and beautiful...your curvy hippie girl...and you knew that I thought you were beautiful too...my handsome shadowed face...baseball cap and sneakers, sorta tight fittin blue corduroy  pants  that just looked perfect ... maybe it was the back pockets and a nice white pin striped blue shirt with fold down collars
your laugh, the games of basketball, horseshoes, Frisbee... swimming
food... eating together was like food ***
we so enjoyed the connecting
the sharing...the tastes and flavors
you loved my cooking...thank you

I remember the convertible Mustang
our boat the four wheelers
we had everything and a four-bedroom cape... nice cars..
worked hard....nice things
we did lots of things together
we endured some terrific pain
nearly watching our daughter die
and watching your mother actually go
and your friend... snowmobiling will never be the same again Joey Laquerre... a local racing Legend gone
Irony? I don't know
his son dies at 17 in 2014 an ATV accident...

So many secrets so many skeletons we share in our closet
I miss that safe place and I know you do too
If everyone really knew ...everything..
well...it's such an epic love story
you told our daughter
And our son... how wonderful it all was
Reminisce with them a little too much even
I asked you why
you said you didn't know
and I guess you still don't
you're still with her
the one you left me for... you know
And the guy from baccalaureate he's still with her too
if I was so wonderful
then why did you have to go?

Happy Anniversary to the death of a marriage... 13 years

Cherie Nolan© 2016
I hope this is poetry I felt like it was poetry and hopefully worth reading... I realize it's a bit long but a true story no I'm not sad by the way...all good. :-) it's beautiful here!
I get allowance.
I get my own things.
I get Hot Wheels.
I have an ATV
and a jeep
and a van
and a helicopter
and a dune buggy.
Maytin Paige Mar 2014
I want to be
that wild seventeen year old.
Doing things that Daddy would let me spend
the night in jail for.
Take me out past that ranch
where no one should be.
Ignore the sign on the fence as we jump it and
run like hell
having the time of our lives.
Let's go down by the river and spin
those ATV and Jeep tires in that brown mud.
Go sit out behind that ole barn,
peeling with paint,
and down a bottle of whiskey.
Let's be innocent and free.
But I can't be that person-
I will maintain a clean record
and live my life safely.
No matter how much the edge temps me.
I just wanna be that wild
seventeen year old
before it's too late.
Holly Salvatore May 2013
I'm baking a cake
For the Land of Enchantment
(It's red velvet
like the plans in my head)
And I'm packing my bags
A year early and
I'm looking at houses
On craigslist
That can only be reached by ATV
And
JESUS H CHRIST
I am done with Missouri!
I am done with this humidity!
I could cut this day
Like margarine
I could cut this day
Like high school chemistry
I could die laughing
At what I'm doing with my life
JESUS H CHRIST
I mean
I'm so ******* sick
Of looking at brick
Buildings and Cards fans all day
And no one ever says hi
No one asks me to dance
JESUS H CHRIST
I'm not a *****
And I don't need flowers
I need cow skulls
I need mountains
I need to see stars
When I look up at night
The ******* stars!
CHRIST
What shines in Missouri
Is streetlights
Stadium lights
Arch lights
**** the Arch.
I am on the next train
To Santa Fe
Coming soon: I'm Sorry Missouri, that was unfair of me.
mannley collins Feb 2015
Im back! and front as well!
here I am incarnated in the living flesh!
tapping one fingered at my brand new keyboard.
Writing strings of meaningful associated fine sounding words
with the sole aim of lifting you and you and you out of Mind
and its operating system ,the Multiple Conditioned Identities
that have plagued you all in every lifetime you've ever had so far--and taking you into temporary Union with the Isness of the Universe.
Let me tell you one aspect about how it feels to be incarnated in this body--charging around soft machine--this walking running distinctly stunning ATV.
Seeing the world around me through the organic mini-cams
mounted on either side of the nose that I,the individual Isness,
use to smell through--chikkens a fuming in the oven--sage and onion stuffing is on the table.
Hearing the world through the shell like sound collectors
mounted on either side of the head I am seated in--Amber the sheppie grunting at the thought of bones to come--plates to lick.
I know that we,my companion and I, can take you out of Mind and MCIs--Ive been taking people higher since I first blew Alto Sax at Jimis shoulder in 1967.
I know that we can lift you if we play our horns for you live--
but we are here and you are there--time zones and distances away--
so maybe not today-- who knows what the future will bring.
Last night--(9pm our time in the UK)-we played an absolute blinder --
of Mull of Kintyre--you would have floated free--we walked upside down on the ceiling--we flew in and out and through each others bodies.
We could guarantee that youd float free of Mind..
She played very close to the melody but with twiddly bits
making it sound as if she was composing it as she played it,
as if she were so far away by a lonely lake listening to waterfowl honk and chatter.
When she opens up on her Mike Tobias 4 string Elec Bass
even the Isness of the Universe stops what its doing and listens!!
Through her Fender Frontman the 60 Watts of resonant sounds
become like the sighing of the midnight winds--elegiac and haunting--
like so many Causerina trees swaying in the warm breezes.
Me?.
I blew my brains out,as usual,
on my Selmer Paris Alto Clarinet--
hand made in 1967 in Paris France(as the yanks say)-
fabricated out of African Blackwood--
lugubrious and burbling---keening and bagpipe like.
I played it backwards--sideways--upside down --in and out--from the middle to the edges--and yet?--and yet?.
When we blended we merged!!.
When we separated we talked in tongues.
We became two instruments played by one Isness--
playing for the Isness of the Universe because no one else was there
to hear--to listen.

www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk
Peeka Jul 2014
These people
Mucho beautiful.
You can see them smile
Miles and miles
Riding in a van awhile
Brothers, sisters, mothers,
Daughters, fathers, sons
Hammering until stability comes.
Family and friends under brimmed hats
Gazing through glass at a land void of grass
But full of passion
Leaving behind permanent tracks
They reflected on how they had made lives brighter,
Seen children beg for water,
Woke up yearning to play soccer-
If they won against the locals it'd be a wonder.
A military women, an Illinois baby,
A president, an el Pancho puppet
Pharmacy pros, a summer camp enthusiast, and an old teacher-
He's the coolest.
Some want to be preachers, psychologist, and to just live past round one.
To run around rainbow tires daring to risk
A dusty trip, a graceful fall.
Keep calm.
It's tacos for dessert, van rides, and mafia till the end.
Spoons for life and jokes all day.
The wind picked up but hope remains.
Braids, charades, dancing, picture frames.
Hole in the sand.
Bouncing in the back of the van.
Almost, but no luck at riding in the back of a pick up truck.
Soaring free down streets.
Towns, the same images on repeat.
A woven rose, question marks leading to unknowns, a circle of bonds forever.
Will we be there soon?
A carnival under the midnight moon.
Coconuts by homes. Respect for third tier bunk beds.
Rushing to the dorm room, downstairs for food.
Todo esta bien y tu?
Braid hair all the time please!
Don't let the paint bleed.
Let's go ride the ATV
Reflect on who we want to be
From here on till eternity
A rower, a reader, and eighth grade dreamer.
If the nail bends, stop to see
It could be saved!
Our Baja family
A poem I wrote after a recent trip to Baja this summer.
Barton D Smock Feb 2014
online I find instructions on how to make my own scarecrow.  I wake my sister and have her put on her pajamas while I take the overcoat my father is using for a blanket.  when we’re an error of a mile from home I have to push the ATV with my sister on it.  she is crying about flooding and I’m telling her what the scarecrow will look like.  she wants it to have a cape.  because my son isn’t born yet, there’s not much to like.
James M Vines Dec 2015
Car radios, used tires and old fishing rods. Rusty tool sets, used wedding rings and a wall full of guns. Selection is limited on some specialty things, dented ATV's go quickly so buy it real fast! Trading in my old deer head, for a used color T.V. . What a surprise that's going to be. Lay away plan or pay as you go. How long it will take who can really know? Get it out before Christmas day and if you don't like, you can pawn it away. Cash and carry is the pawn brokers creed. So go to a pawn shop for Christmas, you may just find what you need.
We just had a very scary and not very safe event. we went to a location with no cell service, no electricity and way out in the sticks, spent all our money to do this last effort to get away from harassment and prying eyes and far far more, ( extreme ) and we arrive to have two planes grid searching and them both doing a low slow over our vehicale and 30 minutes later atv's are heard closing in from all directions, and then dismounted personnel so close all around us it was obvious it was to surround us. we then exited the location to find a message on the road where we arrived that was fresh and not there on arrival, that read "DOA" dead on Arrival!. Listen, we do not feel safe period. we can only imagine whom or which group is to have all these assets and tell the truth, surveillance equipment to be watching us for ten years, as well as commit serious offenses that are beyond moral and ethical as well as legal. i am sure you can imagine whom it might be. so we are truly at a loss for what to do, i have attempted to alert via the people whom watch the video and audio feed that comment on the net, so we have zero options and calling the law is ummmmmmm yeah, sure great idea, even though it was lead to be believed that the law enforcement were the good guys, but we have come to realize this is far from the confirm able truth for the assets and well, lack of  security and the number of online idle and none specific threats..
Barton D Smock Sep 2015
from The Blood You Don’t See Is Fake (poems, barton smock, September 2013)

[wilderness mantra]

sister Cain falls in love with me through her brother.  
     I physically blame her with both hands.  

she has left my brother’s lips  
on the lord.  

I try to kiss her at a baseball game
but am drunk
and kiss instead
my male
abuser.  

violence begins with me.  


[NICU]

in the story, a newborn is placed in a mailbox.  we know of no harm and the story itself is very casual.  an angel tells us the job of an angel is to fly in front of the master when the master is ****.  we try to hang on every word.  the mailbox is the only mailbox in heaven.  our questions turn our stomachs.  some of us become hormonal and some of us identify pedophiles by future rote.  we head home in a pack.  a siren behind us wails a moment before being joined.  

~

from father, footrace, fistfight (poems, barton smock, June 2014)


[object permanence]

rabbit
named
vertigo


[my son the ******]

online I find instructions on how to make my own scarecrow. I wake my sister and have her put on her pajamas while I take the overcoat my father is using for a blanket. when we’re an error of a mile from home I have to push the ATV with my sister on it. she is crying about flooding and I’m telling her what the scarecrow will look like. she wants it to have a cape. because my son isn’t born yet, there’s not much to like.


[orison]

gaze upon our father
create a woman
and suddenly

know
to leave us


[collapse]

how
on a clear day  
my father
is the face
of absence.

how what I mean
cuts the finger

my mother
sips.

how porch blood
is not the same blood
the body
faints with.

how copperhead, how rattlesnake, how lisp

says I myth
my sister
who is still

vanishing
to shoplift
god

from the thunderstorm
we gave her.

~

from The Women You Take From Your Brother (poems, barton smock, August 2014)


[weaponry]

after passing many dogs
with more skin
than fur, that seem to be
the starving men
of my dreams
if the starving men
of my dreams
had been brought
to the same place
to die
if that place
were me,

the man who sold
my brother
a gun

goes

as a father
praying over
a solitary
son

to his knees
in front
of a larger cage
and I see
the smallest elephant
and I keep
seeing it
as if I’m the only
one who can
though I know
it’s there, the sound it makes

like nothing sick, nothing animal-

I am not the brother
I’m the size of.


[spoils]

a distraction that doesn’t explode. I’d say children but nostalgia is still a child. head, I need a volunteer. god’s reply in the form of a sext. a brick taken for a sponge by a bout of sleepwalking in someone I can shower.


[flatfoot]

the missing man’s yo yo
between the hours
of this and that a.m.
was no doubt cared for
by meadow mice
our estimate would be
by all of them
what a service
they’ve provided
we would advise

forget the tree, the tire swing, and with these mice

forget the man

~

from Misreckon (poems, barton smock, December 2014)


[end psalm]

god had an earache and I heard thunder. I learned to shrink into the smallness of my brain. I associated money with my father’s funny bone. my mother with the dual church of hide and seek. I went on to have a son with special needs. he cried once. cried milk.


[form psalm]

I find the boy’s name on a list in another boy’s diary. a gun goes off in a dream I don’t have anymore. the animal gets between my son and my son’s imaginary friend. the root of its insomnia is not man but the fear of personification. god’s gone when the story starts. to war, to war.


[inquiry psalm]

when it comes to humoring
me
by name
my memories
draw a blank.

I had a daughter
and three
sons.

my hands
could’ve been
the hands
of an umpire.

in the untouched church
of suicide
was the untouched
church
of *******.

it’s like seeing
a television
on tv. the comedians
and their failed
sisters.

do your thoughts
still take
the temperature
of god?

~

from Eating the Animal Back to Life (poems, barton smock, July 2015)


[sandbox]

even with her fingers in her ears, she can hear the toy horse whipped. if we don’t have food, we can’t pray. my father was hired for his quickness, his hands

to salt
the rain. grief is a guard dog from the permanent circus.


[sightings]  

****, kid, your poems.  I took a page from your father’s thesaurus and played scrabble with god.  I came back knowing your name as code for omission.  your mother didn’t break a chair over my back because the chair didn’t break.  I worked it off in a building from the wrong twin city.  after that, my homeless jailer became your brother’s landlord.  your brother he played citizen’s parole to my arrest.  borrowed my hat on account it wasn’t full of money.  like most men, we were in love.  he had a note he’d written that would appear before a big fight it said don’t let my suicide beat you to death.


[ones]

the book is a mourning vessel for what its reader stands to lose. I have a father for every type of silence.
Andrew Rueter Aug 2021
There's a moat of sand
it's a bulwark for a prosperous kingdom
beyond the Rio Grande

treacherous trajectory
through an ocean of heat
on the way to their rectory.

There's a moat of sand
turning refuge into risk
dividing two brands

predators look to make one suffer
an ATV piranha's snack attack
tases pregnant mothers.

There's a moat of sand
on the journey from hell to heaven
where the blessed meet the ******

gnawed to the bone
by roaming coyotes
while searching for home.

There's a moat of sand
guarding providence
the bountiful land

just when you think it can't get any hotter
you see a shrine for the dead with a sign
saying they didn't bring enough water.

There's a moat of sand
that's unforgiving and cruel
so it's used by man.
Sinus headache's
no excuses
Tylenol and water
Suited up
against the cold
laced up loosely
on the wounded toe
zipped up hoodie
time to go
Not too chilly
Little wind
Cloud formations
Promise cotton
candy pink
By the time
I top the hill

Left foot - right arm
Right foot -  left arm
I’ve got rhythm
I’ve got music
Joyful, Joyful
in my mind
playing in
an endless loop
long blocks up
long blocks down
small mountain
in between
to make it
add to
one point
nine-eight miles

Wide cracks
in the blacktop
road
Step across
not on
My mother had
a painful back
almost all
her life
Someone sprayed
black tar
across the gaps
But they got filled
with grit instead
and random
ciggy butts
a sucker stick
from Halloween
and one
blue shiny bead

Left right left right
Left foot - right arm
I take the uphill corner
at speed
and miss a step
Left foot - left arm
the pace is
out of sync
Now the street
goes down hill
Pick up speed
Mustn’t trip
No one’s awake
to help me up

A stretch of
alkali-looking
sidewalk
runs beside me
only on one side
The other side
walks
in the street
I guess

300 elbow lifts
fill 3 dead ended
corners
Time to turn
and climb
the hill
rubble left by
glaciers melting
oh-so-very
long ago

Scarred by
ATV tracks
Steep and crumbly
Caution is my
middle name

Heartbeat up
where it belongs
I stride the
ridge
and wait for
Sunrise
God is
somewhere else
today
No hues if
bubble gum
Dark clouds
stay dark
Til shining gold
behind them
bursts
to mark
another day

I survey
the town
below
and offer up
my thanks
as holy
meditation
then I turn
back down
the hill
for my short
walk to
home.

   ljm
Trying to stay healthy with a daily 3 mph, 2-mi. walk
Tony Anderson Apr 2019
Apple pie in the oven
I can smell it from the porch swing
Grandma's in the kitchen
Childhood memories
Floating through my mind

Cool Spring day
Hay freshly bailed
Me on my ATV zigzagging between the bails
or
Just driving in circles around them
Childhood memories
Floating through my mind

Sitting on the tool box of the tractor
While my Grandpa drove
Or
Sitt on his lap steering
Childhood memories
Floating through my mind

Bottle feeding a baby calf
Piking up walnuts
Piking apples straight from the tree

I could go on and on
Memories made in a moment
But
Last a life time
The Fire Burns Sep 2017
Twisted X's made of wire,
strung between t- posts,
fencing off separate properties,
yet tying it together for miles.

Cattle and horses contained,
whitetail deer simply go through
or jump over with impressive leaps,
Rio Grande turkeys walk the line.

Game trails used by various critters,
criss cross underneath it,
forming tunnels in the tall grass,
a yellow breasted meadowlark perches.

Grown into trees through the years,
a historical record contained and preserved within.
single stand or multi-wire tales,
a 3000 pound Beefmaster bull just walks through.

Cowboys ride miles mending,
on foot, or horseback or trucks and ATV's.
good fences make good neighbors, especially in cattle country.
Robert Frost, thanks for Good fences quote.
sofolo Nov 2022
I think it was ‘96 or maybe ‘97. Ripping down the hill on an ATV. Salamander skin and bottle rocket shriek. The firecracker pop of teenage sheen. Tobacco barned and creek wetted. Take me to the forests of smoke bomb blue. Hands in the dirt and vivisected. Wrestle me into a knot. Two bodies of flint sparking up the dark. Double wide glances…I’m a garden tub believer. Toss me a towel and dissolve me into the ether.
JV Beaupre Jun 2023
Impressions of Philadelphia: May 20-8, 2023

A masked saint dressed in dollar bills. Stuffed rice *****.  Cannolli. Italian street  festival

Bentley and Porsche. Bright sequins everywhere. Side-slit, backless, plunging. Metal detectors. Prom night downtown.

On the median, a barber and a man. Haircuts for the homeless.

Black tattoos, ankle to cheek. Dark lips. Green and blonde hair.  Who needs a bra? City girl, Philly girl.

Bike paths everywhere downtown. Few bikes but lots of scooters.  Lancaster county too.

Belly button here, belly button there, here a navel, there a navel, everywhere navel-navels. Philadelphia Innies ‘n outies.

Bright colors, weathered colors. Loving, nurturing, and plain strange.  Gayborhood murals.

1st post master, mapped the gulf stream, lightening catcher, 9 Atlantic crossings. “I never discovered anything, I just made it useful”. Ben Franklin.

Overnight parking $300. At the Delaware, across from Camden.

The Rocky statue outside the art museum, golden Diana within.

Statues hanging from every other building. Avenue of the Arts.

Drexel, Temple, U-Penn. Unsolved murders. The campuses.

ATV rodeo every night. Rrrumm, rummm!  Broad Street after 6.

Phillies 12 - Cubs 3. $8 hotdogs. Citizens Bank Field.

“All things considered, I’d rather be in Philadelphia”. W.C. Fields
sofolo Dec 2023
Brace for impact because I’m coming home. Slam dunked into the veins of ancient loves. The dog is dead. Just a skeleton of unspoken things in a backyard cemetery. What did the military teach you, John? You can buy up the cable news, but you can’t rewrite history.

You can bury your lavender lips under the leaves of the world, but you can’t erase the ***** stains. They remain.

Buckle up because I’m on your doorstep. Ten tons of faggotry on your front lawn. Tell your daughters to look away. Because daddy’s mistake is here to stay. It’s Christmas of ‘23 and the trees are a choir of yesterday. We share this memory. Thrown from your embrace on the ATV—my tailbone cracked the ice. I cried. But the pain was bearable because your rosebud blossomed only for me.
alternatively titled HEDONISM PRISM PART TWO
just treated a covid patient, a bit of a throwback
a break from the warm weather trauma patients
scooter vs. car (awful), a kid shot in the crotch (ouch)
a paraplegic whose friends strapped him on an ATV
(it didn’t end well), a 17 year old girl shot
for looking like a "snitching *****"
a fella going 100 miles an hour until he wasn’t

ah, summertime

— The End —