Writing!
An Unacceptable GD Mess
My love
my friendships
my faith
my politics
my work
my desk
Today
A drink brown liquor during the day
type of day
An Old Testament day,
God and man staring each other down,
undisguised reciprocal disappointment
Practitioners of the gentle arts
cower behind locked doors
on a day like this
At the table in the back,
philosophers and mystics congratulate themselves
for bringing umbrellas,
old women at high tea
Detachment
acceptance
certainty
none of it stands a chance
I’ll wait it out at the bar
next to the raging young Welshman
even if I do have to pay for his drinks.
Don't Fence Me In
From behind the fence
dreams of crossing the river
finally going home
The Apples
The apples were rubbing me the wrong way
but it was more than that.
Half a dozen red delicious
in a polished silver bowl,
very red, too red, nearly crimson
taller than they were wide,
resembling human hearts.
On a coffee table displayed before me
at a funeral home, a bowl of human hearts.
When the manager returns with my receipt
I’m going to say something.
Epistemological Leanings #1 (lawn chair in a creek bed)
We know
there is a lawn chair
in a creek bed.
Everything else is
speculative.
(Another)Tough Sunday
If I counted myself among the faithful,
I'd join one of those churches still
practicing full immersion baptism
in a real river
under the real sun
on a real Sunday.
The instant you break the water's
surface you are
clean
new
forgiven
your old self banished forever.
Good riddance.
To Go
He's not supposed to drink coffee anymore.
Once a week, he goes to the coffee shop a few blocks away because they know his name and are nice to him when things aren't too busy. He orders his coffee to go so he can throw it out on the way back home.
A Story
…There is this woman. She is a single parent raising a daughter. She is afraid of losing her job, afraid of violence, afraid of illness, afraid of poverty, afraid for her daughter, afraid of growing old, afraid of loneliness, afraid there is no god, afraid of dying. Her life is a miracle.
Another Sunday
Have you played that game
where no one tries to find you?
Will we keep our names
when no one’s left to care?
Where do the solders go
when we weary of their stories?
How will we come to know
when we've lost our way?
Haiku-ish (A Really Bad Mood)
The universe arcs
toward inevitable
heartbreak and despair
Haiku-ish (Lakeside View)
On summer mornings
fathers fishing with daughters
teaching what they know
Watch Out for Poets
Watch out for
poets
and their impositions,
sharing
the smallest of
perceptions
as though our
time
lacks importance or
meaning
how the breeze
felt
how the sun
warmed
how the river
flowed
how the branches
swayed
how the birds
sang
how the loss
arrives
how the grief
overwhelms
how the language
fails
how the rage
eclipses
how the hope
awaits
momentarily you can
see
how all things
abide
Life is Sacred
Unless you are old
unless you are poor
unless you are strange
unless you have
what they wish to take
unless there isn’t enough
there is never enough
So maybe I don't know what a Haiku is?
Girls with their brown eyes
long legs and megawatt smiles
blinding all the boys.
Writing a Poem
If I’m going to write a poem
things need to change around here quickly.
I’m talking about the entire sensibility in this house
I’m thinking about that poem or song where
she brings him tea and oranges that come from China
Like that.
Perhaps fresh flowers
from our garden
every day
With bare feet silently moving across
sun bleached floors, she places a vase of fresh cut
flowers on my desk.
Her hair tied back with a simple red ribbon,
the gauzy white dress ruffles
with the gentle breeze from open windows
Instead she clomps into the room
modeling new cowboy boots
telling me how cute they will look
with her short black dress.
All selections by C. Paul Halford-2024