Poetry Posts

Dead at Midnight (poem by Andy Derryberry)

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A cold day drizzling rain
I stir my coffee
And listen for what isn’t there

Something missing
What could it be?
The love that was you and me

Scratching the walls
Tearing up the furniture
Knocking over lamps

Running hot and loud
Howling at the moon
Screaming in the wind

Out until daybreak
Reeling in the flow
Exhausted in a heap

That love was you and me

I look around the house
Where did it go?
Wasn’t it here just yesterday?

Then I see a trace
A tattered piece under the sofa
Dusty and moldy with spider webs

I pull it out quickly
But it seems lifeless
A shell of what it was

911 arrives right away
The EMTs working fast and hard
But that look they give me

“No hope friend
But we’ll keep it alive
For the emergency room”

Crash carts flying
Gurnery’s sliding
Just like TV

The hectic pace goes
Far into the night
But as the hands are straight up

“It’s time”
Looking at the clock
“Dead at midnight”

***

Waiting for the Someday Bus Poem by Dandelion de la Rue.

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Waiting for the Someday Bus
by Dandelion de la Rue.

Maybe that bus
is coming someday
while we just wait
lazy on the
grass and curb and
turned-over newspaper box
listening to the clean lady
with the new bus schedule
and new blue shoes
saying Bus is Coming
Bus is coming
Bus is surely
coming now.

We talk, slow.
One Tooth Boy
shows us his
spider bite
and the old
man hums and nods
and smiles and
there’s a blues beat
somewhere
that bus is
surely coming
someday
we all say
and we’ll all
get on and go
somewhere
sometime soon.

***

Invisible Mystery Friends New Orleans Ghosts Poem by Dandelion de la Rue

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Invisible Mystery Friends
Dandelion de la Rue

Remembering days and nights
of wandering through
criss cross designs of
water vapor and
other disembodied energies
thick with the
ghosts and spirits
of Old New Orleans.
I felt their
kinship with me
their embrace
their music
I heard and felt
their songs
around me
over me
in me
They walked my walk
As I walked theirs
and it was
energizing.
I felt that
I belonged.

Are they lonely
in abandoned
buildings empty
streets
Do they see
the stricken place
it is today
or the magic streets
that they once
walked alone
loving the city
and being loved
the living and
the dead alike.
Where will we gather
now, for bidimensional
communion?

***

While you were Waiting poem by David Michael Jackson

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While you were waiting
she was sleeping.
While she was sleeping.
I was wanting,
yearning,
without cigarrettes I have no perceived angst.
Take the pill.
These modern times go down
with the pill.
Why cry?
The world will go on without your poetry.
Why try,
and yet trying is what you are about,
going there,
coming here to
type
again, knowing others will read,
maybe they will try too.

As the universe was expanding
and burning out
he typed these words
on a computer
screen.

Let’s make it a good ride!

***