November 20th Poems – Center for New Americans

Skinny Poem

In Writing

A skinny

Poem,

I hold

My breath,

Arms close

To my body,

Pretending

Like a stick

Person

No bulging

Tummy

Nothing

To hide,

Breathing

Shallow,

Stripped

Naked,

No room

Even

For a bend

Of hair,

But the big

Steel

Toe

Boots

Hide

Ten

Wriggling

Toes

Bulge out

Off the wall.

Skinny

Enough?

An anorexia

Looks

Into a mirror,

Shakes

The big

Head

“Nope.

Not enough!”

A poem might be

Skinny,

But loaded

With a sombrero

Of meanings

Casting

Long shadows,

And bulges out

Like the steel

Toe

Boots

Hiding

Wriggling

Toes.

Yenna Yi

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

Sailing

The wind at my back ,

and my little boat sings.

The sail is my hook that

grabs on and rings.

I am the unchallenged

captain of the show.

I order my crew,

a roster of one,

and set

the days tone

to have some fun.

No one balks at my command.

What a rare event.

No consultation with

a board of trustees.

My whim provides all

the guidance I need..

No one to rate my

performance;

fails, meets or exceeds.

The wind is my muse,

an inspired mate.

Gaining, losing, or winning,

chalk up to fate,

Stop and Go,

right and left,

fly off the page.

useless words

of another age.

What a treat for

the wind and me,

engaged in this dance,

a dialogue so filled with chance.

If you find all that in life ,

you’d best grab tight hold.

Its pretty damn rare.

if the truth should be told.

Paul Redstone

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

Abstruse

Painting pictures with words

filling in the colors

that create an image

so vivid – snapshot like –

is the art of storytellers,

poets and songwriters.

Painting pictures – a la Picasso

leave you wanting

questions loom

the brain confused

mistakes left

as direction.

With words we paint

portraits of wonder

Van Gogh skies

Monet ponds

dreamscapes

that call us to imagine.

Painting pictures with words

our palette is as full

or as sparse as

our understanding

for dialects, accents

and the nuances of meaning.