"roethlein" poems
Thursday Night
Body-blood
wafers-wine,
praises turned crucifixion,
a mother's milk gone sour
to boil its lamb son alive.
We lament, and remember
(upon this Thursday night)
the actual retail price paid,
the victory won from defeat.
James E. Roethlein ©2021
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 9:38 PM UTC
He Feels She Has
He feels,
she has
a hand worth holding,
he’d call her beautiful,
but he fears
but he fears,
she would reject him,
so he says nothing,
and walks away.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 8:11 AM UTC
Soldiers Returning From the War
Red rivers to wade through,
heart sickened
at the sight of battle blood,
enemies and friends
fallen, never forgotten.
Bullet blasts and combat cries
in dreams, in the waking hours
of the returning wounded,
whose war has not ended.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 8:38 PM UTC
Hope is Dancing
Lying alone each night, empty arms aching,
all the while
hope is dancing
hope is dancing
hope is dancing
in my dreams
when I’m awake I would seek to see
the sunshine in your face
the heavens in your eyes
and to hear the melodic honey of your lips
that would turn my lemonade soul sweet.
And I would hope
And I would hope
And I would hope
you’d dance duet with me
all the years we have left.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Sep 5, 2021
Sep 5, 2021 at 11:17 AM UTC
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
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 11:41 PM UTC
The Dating Life of the Insane
If I like her,
I will ask her,
and she, will tell me no.
Rinse
Dry
Repeat.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2020
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 9:39 AM UTC
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
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 10:56 AM UTC
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
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:48 AM UTC
Seven Things Spoken
Seven things spoken,
three words for completion,
silence, then a cracking earth
and a temple veil torn in two.
James E. Roethlein ©2021
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 11:30 AM UTC
Death Valley Rainstorm
I got dry,
as I got wet.
James E. Roethlein ©2013
Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 9:13 PM UTC
Further down our rabbit hole
descending to free fall,
the abyss beckons
and there is no wonderland
(only the nine circles).
In these days of now,
dark waters (midst the mob
demanding justice done)
defends blade and bullet bearers
(bloodletting upon their own)
from the dam stemming the tide
of red rivers staining the streets.
We continue,
We continue,
ignoring the yesteryears,
and advance to soul oblivion
beyond our world's end.
James E. Roethlein ©2021
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 8:54 AM UTC
There Are Miles Between Us
There are miles between us,
meant to be, perhaps
the miles will lessen to inches
(or nothing at all),
and you and I, together,
we shall see, we shall see.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 9:44 AM UTC
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
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 11:34 AM UTC
One Night Lover
Another one night lover,
come morning
footsteps fading
beyond the closing door.
The other lover laying
in their half empty bed,
is wishing this is the one
who would have stayed.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
Matchsticks and Torches
Another matchstick,
struck and lit,
another flint spark
of an ongoing inferno,
and the town criers,
cry condemnation
for torch bearing villagers
(not on their side),
storming the steps
to further fan the flames
for their own reasons,
as we in the middle, burn.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Jan 10, 2021
Jan 10, 2021 at 7:23 AM UTC
When the Shadows Seem Like Home
Night is fallen, morning to never come.
There is no Spring, there is no Summer,
only Winter and never Christmas.
For the Wild Goose of Ancient Days
departed from a rebel world
favoring the Child of Perdition.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 10:03 AM UTC
My Heart
My heart,
desert dying,
I stumble, I stumble,
rocks and rattlesnakes
waiting to wound
waiting to wound.
Daytime skies overhead.
pitch as midnight to me,
and the road of lonely years,
stretches on and stretches on,
no end or voice in sight.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 8:54 PM UTC
My Relationship With You
I give
and you take
I give
and you take
I give
and you take.
This relationship,
built on what I do for you,
and you give little back,
a look, a word (in your fashion)
should I step out of line.
And still
and still,
I (like the ancient Egyptians),
obey you,
my feline masters.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 4:17 PM UTC
This Dark Well Soul
This dark well soul,
depleted,
desert dry,
having nothing to write of,
and nowhere to write from.
The world moves on,
as his pen sets, silent, and still,
waiting, for another poem,
waiting, for another poet,
to admire, and then forget.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 7:19 PM UTC
He Wanted To
He wanted to
lose himself
lose himself
lose himself
in her eyes,
and she wanted
and she wanted
and she wanted the same;
with someone else.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
Upon a Bed of Daisies
She lies upon a bed of daisies
her favorite flower,
a blued-eyed ginger, waiting
for her lover.
He comes to her
to shower her with flowers,
wooing her with poetry and kisses,
then in the morning,
they wake in each other’s arms.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 10:06 PM UTC
Crayons and colored pencils,
spilling waxen graphite blood
in collective pigment wars.
The box they fight in,
reaching a point of ruination
from the river shed within.
James E. Roethlein ©2021
May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 9:54 PM UTC
Soft Eyes Tender
Soft eyes tender,
gazing with loving looks
sent his way,
she breathes easy,
content, relaxed, and safe
in her beloved’s arms,
feeling his warmth, lingers long,
caresses and kisses lasting
through the night well past dawn,
would that she could stay
as morning wanes to afternoon,
and then to another evening,
knowing he feels that way too.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 10:37 PM UTC
Stick Figure Boy (Brian’s Song)
He was
the stick figure boy
He was
the stick figure boy
He was
the stick figure boy,
gangly,
and a little weird
The things
we had done to him
The things
we had done to him
The things
we had done to him,
being,
cruel without the kind
We then
drove Brian away
We then
drove Brian away
We then
drove Brian away,
and I,
was knee deep in it.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2020
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
He Called Her; Beautiful
He called her;
Beautiful,
and silence stared.
He called her;
Beautiful,
and silence spoke.
He called her;
Beautiful,
never again.
James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 10:58 PM UTC