9 Poems & 1 Pome
- Some of Us Had Mothers – Eileen Malloy
- When Death Comes – Tom Pathe
- Place Your Own James Brown Scream Here – Wendell Beavers
- Even Mick Jagger Gets Old – Frank Ryan
- Podcast 22 – Frank Ryan
- Southern Sky – Frank Ryan
- Diamonds, Gold and Emeralds – Frank Ryan
- Ebey’s Landing – Frank Ryan
- Friendship – Max Brown
- Senryu II About Angel Wind – Maddy Radish
Some of Us Had Mothers
Some of us had mothers who were 14 and inept
Some of us had mothers who were 34 and dysfunctional
Some of us had mothers who were 14 and capable
Some of us had mothers who were 34 and very competent mothers
Some of us had mothers who were broke and at their wit’s end
Some of us had mothers who were rich and crazy lonely
Some of us had mothers who wanted to be somewhere else
Some of us had mothers who were really into kids
Some of us had mothers who kept a guilty secret
Some of us had mothers who had not a care in the world
Some of us had mothers who loved with a big mind
Some of us had mothers who drank too much
Some of us had mothers who could sex a newborn kitten
Some of us had mothers who were on a bowling team
Some of us had mothers who threw in extra chocolate chips
Some of us had mothers who resented daily chores
Some of us had mothers who sorted our clothes every fall
Some of us had mothers who made foreign pastries
Some of us had mothers who wore dresses everyday
Some of us had mothers who smoked menthol cigarettes
Some of us had mothers who had a jewelry drawer
Some of us had mothers who were afraid of kids
Some of us had mothers who couldn’t go outside
Some of us had mothers who rang a boat horn at dinner time
Some of us had mothers who let us play in the river
Some of us had mothers who freaked out over soakers
Some of us had mothers who once stood naked on the porch
Some of us had mothers who had no clue
Some of us had mothers who were kind and wise —
it’s a wonder we can relate at all.
- Eileen Malloy
When Death Comes
When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut; when death comes like the measle-pox; when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering: what is it . . .
- Tom Pathe
Place Your Own James Brown Scream Here
Hey out there
All you Samantabhadras
And Samantabhadris
All you
Desu Masu
Manjushri
Mantra trillers
Shakyamuni
Swing time dancers
Did you
Get
The Duchamp
&
Papa
Mukpo
Memo?
That art is
Functional
Accidentally
Decorative
Always
Love
&
What is love?
Ah Ah Ah
&
Ah Ah Ah
No more
No less
Want
& Roll
Sing &
Change
Climb the cross
&
Jump
Just
jump
On
down
To the
Pure land
You
Know where
And you’ll
Know when
Now
I call them pomes and not poems as a bow to all the real poets, and also the Naropa poets who really rejected the label “poets” or “poetry” . . . preferring to identify themselves as “writers”. I am not a writer either but I do write pomes.
- Wendell Beavers
Even Mick Jagger Gets Old
Sky slowly reddens in the east
six eighteen in the morning
ducks restive on the pond,
movement among the branches
as sun tracks its course
across the southern sky,
blazing noon then drifting towards dusk
Holding you in my arms
for the first time,
your open gaze
upon the rippling curtain behind me,
March wind, open window,
nothing fixed, just play of the moment–
we were the ones captivated by the clock
Delighted how the pulse of each day
grows stronger
yet
impossible to slow down the seasons
block the sun,
or tame the naked rivers–
even Mick Jagger gets old
Podcast 22
Appreciate that your prevailing narrative
podcast,
lively and analytical that will guide you
through such troubled times
This week opened with an ad,
learning that National Advisors Group
will protect you from all the risks
that the world around you could ever bring
Then on to the narrative of how such incisive leader,
Vladimir Putin, relentlessly hectored by NATO
and the hegemonic, righteous of the West,
struggles to safeguarding his country
with pitiless artillery and airstrikes
Can’t help but notice, as you coo,
that this fellow,
slowed and stymied, repudiated and resisted,
continues wantonly to destroy and disfigure
Perhaps, as you point out, that
only strategy and shadowplay truly counts
when weighing and balancing the options—
Rome was never destroyed in a day
At last you wrap up your two hours
then traipse over to Lunetta’s on Pico Blvd.
for an L.A.D. burger,
breathlessly preparing for next topic
The Tinder Swindler
Southern Sky
Never cluttered
Southern sky
indifferent to
before or after—let’s play
from Spring to Summer,
Summer to Autumn
and then Winter chill
On halcyon days
bright early morning star
abides unapologetic
silently
hovering high
before dawn
without care or destination
Early jets head West,
tanks brimming with fuel,
their red, green, and white lights,
steady or strobe,
gradually ascend
while cradling
restive loners, inquisitive kids
Morning sun rising fresh above Atlantic waves
launching yet another journey
across the sky,
slowly inching regal at ten,
haughty at noon,
then spawning restive shadows
toward closure of dusk
Diamonds, Gold and Emeralds
Diamonds
always open
indestructible
impossible to grasp
Gold
richness of being
enjoying itself
intriguing depth
and
relishing each moment
fresh & uncontrived
beyond the clutch of label
Emeralds
all-accomplishing action
responsiveness sans agenda
cyclone of immediacy
Ebey’s Landing
Colonel Isaac Ebey
first permanent white resident of Whidbey Island
claimed six hundred and forty acres of farmland
overlooking Admiralty Inlet on Puget Sound;
along with his wife Rebecca and their two sons,
built his dock and
successfully planted wheat and potatoes
He was a presence,
often known by the local tribes
as the Hyas Tyee or “the great chief.”
November, 1856 a party of Haida warriors
sailed into Puget Sound on long canoes
only to be thwarted by U.S. garrison stationed
near Port Gamble
In the midst of that battle the Haida
suffered the death of one of its chiefs.
Custom demanded that a chief of the enemy
had to be killed as revenge;
August, 1957 they returned,
knocked on Colonel Isaac Ebey’s door
and shot him dead as
rest of the family safely sheltered in the blockhouse
Today,
Ebey’s Landing is national historic reserve
offering scenic, recreational and interpretive opportunities
for visitors;
coastal bluff trail is a three mile loop hike
with some steep and sandy sections—
wildlife abounds
- Frank Ryan
Friendship
Real friends never leave each other, never part. They just sometimes sit silently, deep within each other’s heart, saying, “I’m just here if you need me.”
Friendship is impossible to keep within yourself, it will always extend as far as it can reach to touch your hearts. Exactly like the way you touched mine.
You were someone I didn’t know before; you were someone I don’t expect I will get along with. But it turned out you have given me one of the best friendships ever. Thank you.
True bonding is not measured by the time spent together or the favors done for each other but by the comfort you find when you realize that you care for each other.
Friendship is not a game to play, it is not a word to say, it doesn’t start in March and end in May, it is tomorrow, yesterday, today and every day.
- Max Brown
Senryu II
An angel farted
Flattening the garden plants
For 13 seconds
- Maddy Radish
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