End of the World Sonnet

The still blue Earth falls through a universe of black
All of the life which traversed it now fails to breathe
The apparent loneliness in the world makes me grieve
And I remain alone in oblivion as the Earth glides off track
Soaring into an elongated path which approaches the Sun
The barren surface heats up to the millionth degree
So I hopelessly plunge through the depths of the sea
But its sanctity is shattered--the heat has won
Approaching tranquility between death and life
I see an ardent Goddess before me
She beckons to me--drawing me near
Despite Earthly death I’ll take Her as wife
We’ll remain together for eternity
And forevermore I’ll have nothing to fear

8.99
When I was in high school, a close friend drowned under hazy circumstances off the shore of Sand Hill Cove. It was a long time before I returned to the beach. Eventually, I ventured to the perennially empty Ninigret Beach with my family; it was a brisk, windy day. I watched the seagulls and sandpipers and penned this poem.
s.d.

a colourful beginning

nighttime black surrenders to the dawn
orange curtains creep across the sky
silver dreamy steamy mist announces
yellow rays cascading from above

losing the ashen veneer of their slumber
lemon-eyed children run out to the yard
all around olivine grass trodden harshly
leaves rusty brown patches that never regrow

under crimson covers
flutter of lavender lovers
intense hot pink kiss
to feel steely blue bliss

umber earth is everywhere alive
all the violet wildflowers smile
every emerald tree now standing guard
brings solemn peace upon this vivid rainbow

3.09
s.d.

Newport

In that moment
          of togetherness

I realized
          how truly alone
I was.

11.08
s.d.

Whisked Away

Today’s the day you’re whisk’d away to Rome
A caravan to Marrakesh for you
A chateau in Geneva for your home
And rented rooms in Monte Carlo too
This afternoon in Paris fine red wine
Then walk along the Auckland ocean pier
In Budapest by evening time you dine
Then taste another city far from here
A world expanding fast cannot stay cold
This science puts a smile upon your face
Go on and in your heart forever hold
Some warmth for this dilapidated place
     If constant pain and anger make you numb
     Escape and see the best is yet to come

3.09
s.d.

Turkey Leg

A couple of years ago I attended the Topsfield Fair with two of my best friends. It was very crowded and we waited in a long line to park and get through the front gate. The fair seemed enormous; farm animals, vegetable exhibits, rides, ripoff games, kiosks, an ice sculpture, and even a miniature museum dotted the landscape. As is typical with rural fairs, there were a large number of food stations serving the same overpriced food.

We saw a man walk past who was chomping on an enormous slow-roasted turkey leg. I didn’t think much of it, but one of my friends started salivating. We looked around for the source of this delicious turkey leg but all we saw were hordes of teenagers who seemingly had nothing better to do. My other friend was excited to go on the Ferris wheel so I shrugged my shoulders and lined up with her.

We didn’t see our first friend for the next two hours. He was on a hunt for his delicious turkey leg and we weren’t going to stop him. We thought he was nuts. Every second kiosk was selling chicken tenders, doughboys or processed french fries. While scouring the fairground for his culinary delight, we figured he was missing out on everything else. He didn’t play many of the games and I’m not sure if he made it on any of the rides.

When we finally found him just before closing time, he was chowing down on a turkey leg of his own. I still have no idea where he found it. We berated him for ditching us and told him about what he missed, but I don’t think it really mattered. I saw the look on his face when he cradled his prize and took the next juicy bite. He fulfilled his quest and had the best time of us all that night.

s.d.

man in the park

the man in the park
a discarded cigarette
his latest asset

3.09
s.d.

Tossed Opportunity

A golden opportunity he tossed
When forward-looking hindsight mark’d the day
Then realized affection had its cost
And “no love lost” he found a subtle way.
Since countless iterations in his mind
Betrayed excuses beyond his control
His patience waned and willpower declined--
Humdrum glum-filled gloom became his goal.
‘Twas then the hour of reckoning ensued:
He hid behind a wall of self-deceit
Deprived himself of bev’rages and food
And floundered in a puddle of defeat.
     Yet one small comfort he allowed himself
     Was stretching for a memory on the shelf.

3.09
s.d.

Equilibrium

He thinks about the sands, the skies, and space.
She wonders what is playing on TV.
He dreams of someday living by the sea.
She loves the city for its rapid pace.
He calmly stares into that pretty face.
She looks askance and steps away from He.
He sighs...and feels empty being free.
She cries...and picks dead flowers from the vase.

A day goes by...a week...a month...a year...
A stronger Man now waits beside the train.
A wiser Lady charges through the crowd.
The Man ascends the platform that is near.
The Lady screams out madly to explain.
But I can’t hear what happens. It’s too loud.

3.09
s.d.

Hands and Gloves

I.

Her hands are soft and swollen like a peach--
The juicy kind you won’t find every day.
For everything she needs within her reach
They serve her well; and yet to my dismay
They wield an enchantment over me--
The scary kind that makes my heart beat fast.
But I’m beyond her reach. They cannot be
Responsible for every spell they’ve cast
And so she gently postpones their demands
And hesitates until a later date.
There’s tenderness and mercy in these hands--
The loving kind that might be worth the wait.
     For now they hide in gloves of winter style--
     The woolen kind that spring will render futile.

II.

her rosy scarred hands
clutch the steering wheel
tap keys at the piano
write clap type and
accomplish mundane tasks

they wield an enchantment over me--
     the kind she never asked for
     the kind she doesn’t want
     the kind she won’t throw away
so she puts on gloves for now

3.09
s.d.

empty room

corner sits candlelightthoughts
friends lost friends waiting;
shallow moments final fickle
quietfrantic soulfragment murmurs

circularpath treads reverberation
burdensome twilight conscience trickle
dusty nostalgia paramount reality.
tranquil quarkyear overwhelms

heartrhythm sobs oblivion
scattered boxes glooming crush
nightdream veils misty utopia...
tonedeaf superpatience teeters

3.09
s.d.

Blizzard of '78

I shoveled snow all day long
for a five-dollar bill
and a wrinkled one, at that

I suppose I was to learn something
about work ethic, or
how charity is supposed to feel good

Instead, I walked home with a handful of blisters
a red windburned face, and
a mild case of frostbite

3.09
Some of us can relate.
s.d.