November 16th Poems

The Evening Sets In…

 

The evening sets in as the daylight fades,

Geese are honking in grey sky

And the life walks into a poetry.

I’m trying to cash in my day’s work—

Multifarious chores into a tune

To fit into a poetry, 

Picking Swiss Chard in late October 

Sweet peas still hang unto flowers,

No time for peas to ripen,

But it’s never wholly lost

For life is a progress,

And the evening is too dark for some,

But for others it’s beginning of a day.

Who’s behind the quivering lips

Looking into a rear-view mirror?

The evening sets towing the daylight behind.

      

        2020

Year of the Rat

 

  Yenna Yi

 

****************************************************************************************

In Praise of Boring

 

I yearn for a solid boring day.

A day I awaken and the sun

or the rain appears as anticipated.

A day containing no surprises.

A day when the news is presented

with a yawn.

No invasions reported around the globe.

A day when people of different

backgrounds talk to each other

without yelling.

A day that the art of listening is resurrected.

When I open the milk, it has no sour smell.

The phone only rings for someone to say hello.

No frantic calls  coming from children.

My cat simply meows at scheduled

feeding times.

My annual physical is normal.

My friend can declare her desire to continue

to recover from surgery

as the world’s  most boring patient.

How could I ever have so misunderstood boring,

a word that damns the movie or the book.

As a youngster, I dreaded the boring class,

the teacher who droned on,

the concert I had to attend.

Perhaps there is a switch that is thrown

at  a certain moment in life.

That day when one awakens and breathes

a special sigh of relief,

inviting a lack of excitement.

It has taken many years to truly

appreciate boring.

I plan to cultivate my appreciation

and even seek out this wondrous state.

 

Paul Redstone

***********************************************************************************

Papers in my Pockets  

 

tell that I am 84 

they say

 

 it is just the right time

for dementia

 

so in my pockets

I keep two truths

 

for those 

who want to know

 

how opposites are true

 

one says I’m fully alive and well

one that I sometimes forget words

 

and am slowly

losing pieces of who I was

 

I give out both papers

to those who want to know

 

how opposites

can live together 

 

as they do

changed but

 

still fully living 

writing poems 

 

like this one

keeping who I am

 

accepting what is changing 

as it will

 

Phyllis B. Katz

*******************************************************************************

CHEN FAMILY WORSHIP

 

A time capsule:

we share 

these now ivoried panels

of hilarious family comicality

found pinned to the back 

of that dusty drawer:

  multi colored balloons 

 of  computer cartoons.

 

We share, read aloud

 his epistles framed in panels  

to the bachelor uncle’s gathering :

 grieving, brothers ,sisters.

. 

 Replace them gingerly

 in the composition- board dresser

The Salvation Army refused :

“Not taking: dead or alive, 

has to be  new or unused.”

 

I wake in the dark night to ask

Could our family artist be yet alive?

  We dreaming,

butterfly fluttering,

he drawing us ,

sketching cryptic notes on our bad habits

,pinning siblings to ancestral tablets ?

            Geo Cernada

**********************************************************************************

Blackout poem

from John Lewis quote: 

 

“~ ~ ~ ~ ~ light. ~ ~ the light. Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish ~ ~ light. Study ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ the whispers of your ~ ~ heart, ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ universal truth, ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ Hold only love ~ ~ ~ ~ peace ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ good ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ follow your truth ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ to 

peace and ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ love, if you shine like a beacon ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~, then the poetry of all ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ is ~ ours to manifest in a nation, ~ world ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~, and ~

Beloved Community ~ ~ ~ finally at peace with itself.”

 

Isabell VanMerlin