Siting on the porch
Of my sister’s house.
Miles Davis playing in the back ground.
While the crickets
Sing along.
My nephews and their friends
And ladies
Are talking inside.
It’s getting a little nippy outside.
Even through my leather coat.
Category: POETRY
Buzz Saw
as my sister vacuums her house
The little dog, named buzz,
who has more fur than body,
Runs around in a circle.
It’s kind of irritating,
But at least he’s not running around
Barking at me.
I always have to bribe him
With treats for about ten minutes
But in the end he leaves me along.
Well sort of,
He’ll come and look at me
As to say -if you don’t give me something,
I’m going to bark at you.
That’s when I give the wolf stare.
As in -that’s enough
You’re not going to blackmail me.
And of course that’s when he starts barking again.
Dams
We were dam builders,
my sister and I.
In the beginning,
We would build came with mud
To make our swimming holes
In the creeks that surrounded our farm
In the mountains.
We’d spend most of the day
Repairing the spots
Where the water’s broken through;
So that, when the sun
Began to go below the horizon,
Signalling the time
To go home and clean up,
We’d never had a chance to swim.
By the next afternoon,
When we’d finished our chores
Around the farm in the morning;
We’d run back the find out Dam gone,
Washed away during the night
By the water migrating to the ocean;
And we’d have to start all over again.
There forth,
We began building our came with stone.
To this day,
I still only build with
Rock, stone, brick, and concrete.
Poetry
From the branches of the trees, it fell,
like leaves on a fall afternoon,
landing on my head.
It knocked on my eye lids
and showed me a way to clear out
the raging fires in my mind.
I didn’t know what to say
Dyslexic as I was.
Hand and pen deciphered the thoughts inside.
Strangely enough pen and book
taught me how to speak.
Faint as it was
on the tail end of a punishment,
the first poem written
spoke of the fire which still overpoweringly rages
within the abyss of my soul.
‘Then again
who knows
what I’ll do next?
The wind?’
Sulfur and Gunpowder
There’s the smell of sulfur and gunpowder
which filled my nostrils
as I lit the rocket.
Stepping back,
head tilted back 45 degrees upward,
I bumped into Ray,
who wrapped her arms around me
to help me maintain my balance.
The Rocket shot up through the buildings
and blew,
echoing about the glass and concrete.
Sparks propelled out from the blast,
bouncing off the windows,
and floating downwards to fade into the streetlights.
The smell of sulfur and gunpowder again
wafted toward me;
another rocket propelled itself into the sky exploding.
Sirens sound from the distance,
drawing toward us.
Sarge’s voice broke our gaze upward.
“Come on, cops are coming.”
He spun around and headed into an alley
disappearing among the shadows of the dumpsters
and concrete mountains.
My heart started beating faster,
and Ray’s voice whispered in my ear.
“one more.”
I grinned, “girl you’re as crazy as I am.”
I knelt down and pulled the bottle to me.
“Just happen to have one.”
As I lit the fuse
standing up to watch it explode,
Ray grabbed my hand
and ran
pulling me behind her.
We crossed the street,
and headed into the alley.
The bottle Rocket went off;
the explosion echoed thro’ the city streets,
sending sparks
reflecting off the windows.
Our shadows faded into the streetlights.
Smyon-Pa 