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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
Tue Oct 2nd, 2018

Plato declares all poets are liars

because they use metaphors,

yet Plato himself employs

allegories and metaphors.

 

Businessmen boast of bs profits,

yet such exaggerations are not labeled lies....

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Sep 25th, 2018

Mint: a cosmopolitan family

with so many attractive relatives

that they cannot be kept from your table!

I’m in love with sage, basil, oregano,

while I keep in touch with...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Sep 18th, 2018

Black ants are gathering short, crooked stems

while an architect ant directs the work

with the patience of ten million sunsets

or the movement of a glacier ten miles,

as...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Fri Sep 14th, 2018

The roosters have taken over the farm.

Pigs have been set loose to eat the produce.

Horses have been confined to the red barn.

All cats, dogs, and caged birds...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Sep 4th, 2018

America, your rouge looks like a whore:

conflict of interests and corruption,

addiction to international war,

insults, for-profit incarceration.

Some say, “Nothing new, we’ve been here before,”

but the algorithm-scale...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Aug 28th, 2018

Is poetry a proper profession?

Or the blind route of absurd digression?

Or is it an awkward transformation

of purely personal indigestion?

 

Is it the art of absolute failure...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Tue Aug 21st, 2018

Granularity populates a vortex overflowing:

seed to vagrant soil, sudden shower;

dune of sand lit by shore lightning;

gravel underfoot in moonlit park;

pin-points of water welling in eyeball;

multitude...

by Kevin T. McEneaney in Poetry
Wed Aug 15th, 2018

The First Congregational Church

is now available for meetings,

weddings, and social events.

 

The Presbyterian Church

with its big bell tower and giant clock

is now a Baptist Church....

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