"schoenleber" poems
The basketball says thump thump thump to the concrete
Two black kids play a hoopless game. The rules? Intuitive.
The top stair railing of the apartment is a three pointer
Both of the walls along the side are an approved backboard
The grass is out of bounds, the door opening is a time out
The constant rattle of the railing assures without doubt
That they’re draining those shots like Ray Allen
It is the first day over 60 degrees all year and the boys
Smile like the sun granted permission for happiness
They are young and carefree and pulsing with life
But they will grow out of that fickle, temperamental joy
And they’ll rent a room or two in a brick apartment
With a red railing on the third floor, so they can listen
At times annoyed, at other times enchanted, I know this,
Because I am in a brick apartment, and I know the rules
(c) Marty Schoenleber III 2013
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
We are always running
These streets holding us
As we hold hands
Your hand in mine,
We are running
We are running,
Not following anyone
Not following anything
We are unique
We are pioneers heading west
Not chased but willingly chasing the sunset
Where the horizon and the sky meet with a seamless kiss
We are hoping that they aren‘t the only things that love
each other so much they can be together without
leaving a mark
Not tearing or wounding or cutting or finding any cracks
and fault lines, perfectly matched
One falling into the sea
One rising into the clouds
And on and on and on forever
Dripping off the edge of the known world
Who can know our world
Who could have chased us this far
We are alone in the wild
This rushing and running
Running from the streetlights falling away far behind us
Our hands tight like a taut rope from our shipwrecks
We are pulling one another from the depths
Neither an anchor
But both anchored together
Sinking
Sailing
Storming seas of sidewalk puddles and pavement bleeding
together
No edges
No seams
No feet
No legs
No bodies
All running heart first shoulders back, eyes closed
Winds whirling around us
Running not following
Holding not falling
Chasing and ending somewhere in that kiss of sky and sea
Finally finding rest
Wrapped in a peaceful footstep folded-up asphalt blanket of
each other‘s peace and preface
The only unstitched and perfect seam is the horizon that
God wakes up and puts to bed where we find our
heads were tucked in
But our hearts weren‘t allowed to end
(c) Marty Schoenleber III 2012
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Hold on beleaguered artist
Though your ebullience is fleeting
Do not linger for that leisure you’ve been seeking
Now hunt down your horizon
Dare to impel your hurting heart
Before this onyx evening tears it all apart
It is no mirage you chase
No voyage lost on empty sea
So, if their curses rip your sails, know I believed in thee
(C) Marty Schoenleber III 2013
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
I once knew a little man
Who kept at a job he did not understand
And day after day
He’d go off to work and he’d say:
Today I’ll learn who I am
But Monday came
And then it went
And Tuesday came
And it too was spent
Like Wednesday and Thursday
And then at last Friday
While he sat in a confused lament
And week after week
His office chair squeaked
Until finally he made up his mind
He’d quit, he decided, and just in time
For that very night he died in his sleep
(C) Marty Schoenleber III 2013
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
Crisp air blows through the car window
The boulevard opens under electric light
A favorite old song plays over the radio
As our hearts find a magic in the night
We’re alive and we know it, because
Oh, for the moment, we’re alive and we know it
Thank God, we’re alive and we know it
(c) Marty Schoenleber III 2013
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC