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Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men
What voices? What sound? What words?

Turn up the volume……….

 

 

the homeless man (revised)

It came to my attention that some people might think that the word tiring at the end of the poem, was a statement that homeless people are tiring, and it’s the same old problem. That was not my intention of the poem – I tried to say that he is tired of being cold. If some people understood that, that’s great. However, homelessness is something that is heart breaking; so I have attempted a revised haiku to try to better convey my message, and I apologize if any one thought I meant it in a negative way. Please forgive me!

But isn’t it interesting how one word in a poem can change a meaning, I guess that’s why good poets choose there words carefully!

The Homeless Man

on dirty cardboard

gaunt, detached mannequin man

 

can’t keep warm                         ever……

 

on dirty cardboard

gaunt, detached mannequin man

 

cant keep warm                         tiring……

needing some space

listening to the
music, earphones – closing off
everyone                             again…

 

 

on a damp, windy day

the synergic nest
now rooted to the branch, sways

 

the birds slumber on….

Living….

The Phantasm and Fortunato
of life; the mysteries of the mind

You are set to explore, you are ready
to explain – but just can’t

Your thesaurus not able to convey
what you really want to say

With words such as gentle, love, touch
but! The most important word of all

Life…

How do you conjure         convey this?

Perhaps by using words like
precious, breath, or taking for granted

All I know are words such as beauty, grateful
and you, all you: humans, amphibians, mammals,
animals, and every            every breath we take

It can all be gone so fast; unforeseen goodbyes,
crying, dying and regret

So I am saying now             hold onto every second, minute
and don’t let go…..

playing with words

juxtapose, so long
winded to say – it means? You

and me               side by side?

 

He chips, he adds, he prolongs,
the dust from years past
blows away, blows into the nether
world of reality. Reality is! Everything
must go through the decaying and, slow aging
process. It catches up         with us all!

As I look into the mirror – another line;
another truth, etches its way onto my flesh
my slowly decaying flesh of life.

He has to chip slowly at the wall
It is delicate! Must be handled with –
extreme care. The dust catches his breath
he coughs, then stops and surveys his work

I stay a while checking my skin
my reflection now making me sigh.
Whatever? I check my teeth. Shrug
and then just brush the moments, the
thoughts away, but I never get it all

Not with just a brush!

He uses a mortar and pestle
and a special, delicate kind of brush.

His day is over – my life goes on
as usual!

kinda hungry….

he found the bottles
rummaging             through the garbage

a few extra cents….

the first snow

during the dark night
the snow fell             so quietly

unaware                     we slept….

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