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Poetry

Out of nowhere

it can come

 

like a car passing

under the window,

 

but what to do

with it?

 

Especially when

the car’s gone

 

and there’s

no sound at all,

 

except the slight

rustle of leaves,

 

a dandelion seed

floating in air,

 

and glint of sunlight

sparkling on a pond?

 


on the piano

played

only one

white note

but that note

was enough

for the day

to have

its poignant

memory.


Wan December sunlight, snow-covered hills,

pond semi-frozen, hollows mucky with mud,

stream reduced to etiolated rills.

Hauling in split wood amid squelching sludge

up to my wobbly ankles. Birch burns quick

like conversation igniting with wit.

Some maple and cherry for dim twilight,

oak and elm for the dreary, frozen night.

 

Each tree has its own personality

that “speaks” in distinctive, warm vibration

tinkling spine, giving scent, breathing on ear.

Symbol of life-and-death, the spreading tree

makes heart leap in flaming extroversion—

especially at turn of the New Year!


Declare a moratorium on common sense.

Let all multi-millionaires be homeless and hungry for a day.

Let roosters and chickens all have their say.

Televise the parade of Snowmen from Miami Beach

And replace the Super Bowl with the Pleasantville Croquet Finals,

While requiring all players to quaff half a bottle of whiskey before play.

 

Let us know who grew the largest canine teeth in the USA

And where the most beautiful mallard ducks swim.

Ban all autos from all cities and towns for one day a year.

Give every citizen a Thanksgiving turkey

And every child a full day’s worth of sheer play.

 

And since a serious note has here been struck,

Open the Southern Border to refugees

From drug cartels, malnutrition, and hunger,

For we are those who set the example

Of freedom in this world—or not?


A Messiah came, spoke of the Father

(with words of wisdom not heard since David),

becoming a martyr like Osiris,

Dionysos, and those who followed Him.

The Spirit-words of the Man from Nowhere

still inspire the Force of Good today

in the gentle hearts of men and women

who follow their sacred, inner conscience.

 

From where does this bright, inner voice arise?

This Force comes from our meek, caring parents,

who gave us this glorious gift of life.

We are the image of Mother, Father,

from whom tender wonders of love proceed.

A Christian loves the green world and neighbors.


by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Thu Oct 13th, 2016

Pretty striped stink bug, where are you going?

Come down from the roof—going to party?

Or is it some food you are looking for?

Maybe locate a mate before sunrise?...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Thu Oct 6th, 2016

I followed a bright yellow butterfly

to blooming lilac sprays

during early days of sun-drop spring.

 

I followed a bright yellow butterfly

into the thicket of adolescence

where music...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Mon Sep 26th, 2016

There are times when to love the calls of birds

Becomes a crime worse than theft or incest;

When hills and valleys described in fleet words

Evoke anger of a...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Sep 20th, 2016

Gusting winds—whiplike—batter bent bushes,

bowing, battered,  bludgeoned; resilient trees

wave as storm rages with ravenous pitch,

while in cottage a lonely candle burns,

comforting four hands at plain deal table.

 ...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Wed Sep 7th, 2016

Cyprus trees comb blue air

as I turn a page in a book,

while a hawk circles above

cleaving azure air with elegance.

With that upstart fantasy

of passing time...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Mon Aug 29th, 2016

In Bryce Canyon burnt ochre sandstone

lazes in sunlight like an arrow line

leading to hidden caves of bleak

antique beauty where time evaporates

like a dwindling puddle on gray slate....

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Thu Aug 18th, 2016

Idyll

 

Summer evening fragrance,

sun dipping orange

through tree matrix

in refulgent pink:

scent of lily, poppy, dahlia,

coreopsis, linum;

guttural frogs on pond,

hummingbird wings abuzz,

giggle of...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Aug 9th, 2016

Marcelo Carrion at 81

 

At eighty-one

you are the one

to whom we look

for wisdom when shook

by odd events

or absurd comments

on how we live

and...

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