Sanctum
I fear the open street.
There is above my office door
a calf’s head
and we put up in the cellar
a silk flag I found in the dirt,
a key I found in the fire.
Gedichte zum Thema: street
Gedichte zum Thema „street“ auf Poets.by.
Laredo
modern cowboy’s lament
You’re too florid, too weepy
for this sleepy street—
even the fireplug looks away.
The sidewalk should tip you off:
this ain’t no lone prairie.
Tumbleweeds never make it across I-35
so how the hell did you?
We’re proud of our values here—
especially our property values.
Only broke people walk
& to loiter is to litter.
We may wear big hats
as if at some point expecting
exposure to the elements
but for God’s sake, son,
Sun Shines Brightly
The evening was full of surprises.
Sunshine had a brighter, merrier tinge
Streets were full of decent men
And every woman looked beautiful.
Signals turned green at my very sight
Youngsters gave way, most obliging.
The fishmonger gave a couple free
The coffee tasted so good.
At the corner shop, I read out
A letter in English
To the unlettered worker
Who listened joyfully, as I told him
His daughter will be home for X’mas.
Passing, slowly, I saw me
In the glass panes -
A happy, smiling, me.
Crossroad Empires
The two are within a block of each other
near the northern edge of downtown.
Whether in cahoots or competition,
both stake a claim on their respective stages.
One, a conductor at her podium
who stands mid-intersection
directing nonexistent traffic.
What plays in her head is anyone’s guess.
The other, a fly fisherman
whipping shadow-cast figure eights
over the empty street; determined to find meaning
when there is always a catch before his release.
As cars arrive to nudge both experimental theaters,
a dance ensues to the tune of one long echoing symphonic honk.
Twirling, arms waving, she casts a spell
over her orchestra pit to silence the critics.
Haiku 9
If the barrel rolls
and goes unmissed until spring
was it ever lost?
In wisteria,
the remains of a feline
she dies when we die
Hot sauce on pizza
the man’s wife died this morning,
chatter in Russian
The lost magician,
our supervisor runs out
to give directions.
I had not wanted
to give up on this ball-point,
almost New Year’s.
Black dog on a leash
Haiku
My old enemy,
Grown his thick bushy red beard
In the five years since.
String of white tinsel,
Strung between two thin branches
Bowing to the breeze
Her naked bottom
Visible in a white flash
Gone to thunder now.
Electric fan blast
Cave-cold in my left armpit
DVD skipping.
I watch the traffic
Or, did, until tall condos
Replaced the yoga barn
How strange, to have come
* * *
Three thin monks, southbound
pass a street hawker sporting
that same shade of orange.
Old man shakes his head
but does not move over,
his thumbnails, talons.
On her knees, she sings
at the church door, 10 pm;
is He still at home?
Heat on my left foot
toes crimped against the dresser,
enough for tonight.
“Live in the moment!”
…well, except for that clogged drain
back in my shower.
The madwoman!
Running in
Birth is mundane, a mere formality
A realization of dreams, or of lust.
In the nurse’s arms, swaddled in clothes,
The baby screams, or whimpers with eyes shut.
This is it; you have bought it, my lad.
Formalities over, the manager stands up
The key in his cupped palms.
Theatrical, he pauses as if in a short prayer
And drops it into your open palm.
In her flowered dress, hair braided
Arm resting around the baby on her left
Proof of my manhood, her motherhood
She looks at him, at me, in gratitude and love.
I stand a little apart, look uncomprehending
At the beast, silent; glittering chrome
Massive tyres, sweeping handlebars
Hometown
At the back of my mind
Lies an undigested piece of thought -
That I have to leave my home tomorrow.
My bike carries me through these streets
Along the familiar scenes, pauses
At the places so known to me -
The coffeshops, bookshops, my haunts -
The libraries, the gardens, my previous office
The corners where I have hung around,watching
The milling crowds, a few faces recognized and nodded at.
Faces from my past, faces that have grown old with mine.
The city has grown, its roads wider and cleaner
Trees and corner shops have given way
To malls and multistoreyed monstrosities.
I try hard to remember what were there before
The old, tile-roofed houses replaced
She Asked
She asked me what love was,
I gave her a simple answer,
Love is reflective, very reflective,
It' a two way busy street,
It appears better in pictures than in reality,
You never know when it is enough to love someone,
You never know where and when not to love,
You ask me a question to tell you that I love you,
It only need eight letters, but I will be lying to you,
For I'm a time bomb,
waiting for that last second count,
I blow everything close to me
Silence
The quiet is an endless street,
a street with glass and metal stabbing my very soul,
it has left my skull broken, my thoughts left flying, can you hear them, the screaming and the killing thoughts,
I was left on this quiet and empty street, never to be heard,
never to be spoken with my own real words, only silence lingers ,
only my thoughts are left and my broken skull,
mingled together to create my very quit being.
Walking on a Rainy Day
I'm walking down the street
Heading to a far away area
Trying to relieve the pain
My tears mixed with the rain
You can't heal something when
You haven't cleansed it fully out.
I felt cleaned and refreshed.
I kept walking down the street
And I didn't give in to the pain.