RickThePoet

Weekends

He used to think that weekends
were for relaxing
by the pool
and praying to a God
who didn't understand
about things
he didn't understand
or want to.

He used to think he wasn't alone
with himself
At least he harbored an illusion
of group living
that allowed him to ignore
the voices
in his heart of hearts.

After a marriage
Loneliness becomes an art form
and weekends carry with them
Grand Canyon sized mental scenery
while we travel in a small plane
through eons of rock formations
and centuries of change.

Now he knows what weekends are for
and he doesn't have anyone
yet
to do it with.

Dinosaur

As he watched a spell-bound little girl
magically transported
by a purple dinosaur
preaching love and caring
He wondered whether the extinct creature
knew of the irony it represented.
Ancient creatures
and modern little girls
were the commonality of his life.
The span of the centuries
had not cured him.
Women surrounded him
tore at the epidermal layers of his being
caressed his insecurity
and challenged his ability to live his life
loving.
He was a Neanderthal
struggling to survive
armed with a stick
travelling through deadly marsh gas
Fearing the monstrous anger
of an unthinking beast.

Could he escape his past?

Knight Errant

He imagined her in a flowing white robe
in a medieval meadow
standing among grasses and flowers
gently moving with the breeze

Even the wind did her bidding

She waved a magic wand
and
frog-like
He jumped into her lake
sure in the knowledge
that the prince within him
would find the sword
and save her kingdom.

He mounted a sturdy horse
Hid behind his armor
prepared for the joust
with raised lance.

Before he entered the fray
He rode to her
Accepted her colors
Tied them to his arm
and gently bowed
to her beauty.

Behind the armor
He hid his vulnerable flesh
He wondered whether the armor
would protect him.
When he thought she had run away
His insecurity certain of her rejection,
He hid his fear
and wore it
like a garland.
He saw his opponent
clad in black armor
lance at the ready
He was
A man-child
learning for the first time
about battles and wars.

When he summoned the courage
to approach again,
He galloped toward the opposing Knight
Confident
Showing no mercy.
His was a passionate quest
For the love of a lady.

When the opposing Knight fell
He rode triumphant to her side
Dismounted
and removed his armor.

He knew he didn't need it anymore.
       

Cancerian Shuffle

She peered out from under the hard shell
Suspicious
Tentative
Eyes sharpened to a point
fixed to the beach

The sand rubbed
her underbelly
as she slid carefully
toward the surf
watching out for scorpions
known to prowl the area.

Gingerly,
she touched a claw
to the lapping water,
chilly from the winter
warming to spring
and she longed for a long
peaceful swim
predator free.

Imagine her surprise
when a scorpion offered her a ride
to the island
of love.
Could a scorpion ever be trusted?

She wanted to go,
but her cautious spirit
said no.

The scorpion,
stung himself
by empty promises,
vowed to ask again
and again,
until the crab
trusted.

After all, he was willing to leave the desert
without knowing how to swim.        

Old Man

He slowly pattered to the chair
Cloth rubbed raw and chafing
Slippers worn and in their place
Pipe and Ashtray next to the lighter
his wife had given him on Memorial Day.

His body bent forward
and his gaze fell on the carpet
threadbare from walking and pacing
during illness and crisis.

He was alone now
Slowly dying
and living slowly.

He watched the flickering television
looking for meaning
and not looking at all.
Did he remember the President
and the year
or did he remember a kiss in 1947...
Or was it ‘48?

He felt a tightening in his chest
and knew his end was coming
He closed his eyes
and remembered the past
thought about the future
and prayed to whatever God
was up there.

When he died
They removed the body
Boxed his belongings
Threw them in the trash
Emptied his bank accounts
and went on living.        

Silence

I sit at the computer screen
The hum of the fan
blowing air through the room
No sound other than
the click of the keys

and
I think only of you.

Already my house is empty
when you aren't in it.

The telephone
has become a silent sentinel
on guard against my loneliness
a watchman
ever vigilant
waiting for you.

You have invaded my life
conquered my soul
and decorated my mind
I am guarded by you.

I make myself busy
with nothing
and everything
Seeking an antidote for the
silence
of your absence
a magic potion
to quell the feverish
desire
that has infected me.

This is the most pleasant
disease
I ever have had.        

Tree

As he climbed to the top of the tree
His hands gripping the bark
with the strength of a wild animal
Clawing his way
to his goal
He stopped to look down
and was afraid.

The forest floor beneath him
seemed far away
the sounds and smells
eluded him
and his senses
blurred
in a symphony
of rarified air
and passing birds
singing
of freedom
won
and lost.

The branches reached out
in many directions
every one
a path to take
or to ignore.

How could he choose?
How could he decide?
How could he not?

He carefully inched out
towards the most beautiful cloud
it seemed to have the most substance
and the branch
while rough,
was sturdy and sinewy.

As he moved ever closer
to the end
he smelled the sweetness of the leaves
and touched the moist bark.
They caressed him
and drew him
to the heavenly cloud
that beckoned
with an outstretched hand.

Did he dare
to look behind
to see what passing stranger
might be behind him?
Did he dare
to wonder
whether the limb
would support his weight?

Did he dare
to love again?

Dust to Ashes

He left the unmade bed
and the desk’s dark clutter
The ceiling was still gray
from the time she set the furniture on fire
but
everything had to be the same
The crib was naked
He turned and watched the curtains dance
sensuously
The bathroom was sterile
He lit a candle
in remembrance
to remember

He had to hang her stockings
to remember

His cigarette went out
He lit another
properly placed it in the ashtray
He was careful to apply the correct amount of lipstick
to the filter.

He heard the phone ring
Heard it say
I’m Sorry and
It won’t be the same
No, he said,
and hung up
feeling sick.

He stroked the cigarette
and the right mixture of ash
fell silently
and replaced some dust
his moving had disturbed.        

Medieval Fair

He passed through the gates
and was transported in time
She held his hand
with a delicate touch
He was King Richard
to her Guinevere.
She wore a garland in her golden hair,
tilted just so.
Her regal bearing 
belied the passionate soul
of a fellow traveller
into a misty past.

He knew they both sought the Holy Grail.

He wanted to be her knight
wearing his lady's colors
Not fearing the joust
or the crowd.
Her beauty gave him courage.

He would fight dragons for her.
       

Christmas Blues

Rudolph had another glass of scotch
and
Nose redder than before,
staggered outside in the snow.
He looked for the other reindeer
But they were sleeping
in the stable.

They had a long night ahead.

Rudolph wondered whether they would follow him
again
into the dark night
filled with stars
and space debris.

He worried about his precious cargo
The fat man
with the bag of gifts
who was the last hope for millions
of innocents
waiting for happiness
to be delivered
in the night
by a man invented by their parents
able to leap tall buildings with a single bound.

Suddenly all became clear
and Rudolph staggered back into the bar
bleated another drink order
and drank himself into oblivion.
       

Tarot

He studied her as she placed the cards
upon the table.
Did she hear his beating heart?
Could she sense his prayer
For a future of loving her
Could she read the desire in his body

Or was it all a game?

She read the cards
and knew that he was bound to the past
A past that carried only broken love
and incomplete promises.

He was a budding plant
growing towards a powerful sun
reaching for the sky
A boy-man
learning to love

The cards told him that he had much work to do.

China Doll

She seemed so delicate
Her pure white skin
against his dark arm

He was afraid she would break
if he held her too tightly.

She spoke of secret desires
and he understood.
He desired her with a fire
eternal in its power.
Brightly lighting his life,
it threatened to burn
but he came closer anyway.

He wanted to feed her
with his power,
To hold her with his arms,
Seduce her with his intelligence.

His words
were his tools
to let her know
that deep inside
he wanted her to grasp his soul
and carry it to ecstasy.

He imagined that she sat
before a quiet stream
Next to a forest,
while he admired her from a secret place.
He approached, unseen,
and she leaned forward
to hear the passing water.
He knew that if she heard him coming
she would
deer-like
run away to a place of safety,
thinking him to be just another hunter
looking for a meal.

How could he show her
that he was, like her,
a frightened deer,
running away from the hunters
who chased after him,
and that,
together,
they could protect each other
from the destroyers
and the breakers of china?

Sacramental Wine

As the wine travelled across the table
to its final resting place
He thought of the sacraments
with the religious fervor
of a zealot
praying for salvation.
He was spinning out of control
on her roller coaster
of emotions
He was looking for the off switch.
Was she the one he sought?
Her stunning beauty
made him forget, but
He had the faith
of a believer.

He gasped at the height
of the sleek cars
as they sped to the top of the ride
He closed his eyes on the way down
She held his hand
and he knew that he would be safe

He forgot her beauty
when he listened to her prayer
The bustle of the restaurant
faded into her eyes
He looked down
from the top of the mountain
and knew
she could give him the courage to jump.

Was it a sin
to wear the wine
like a badge
of honor?

He thought of the graves of dead loves
moribund reminders
of ghostly memories
as he looked at his future
and drank the wine.

He wanted to shout
her name
in a litany
sung with the voices
of choir boys
Lifted to heaven
on the souls of angels.

He only said goodnight.        

Photograph

He looked at the photograph closely
Image of his youth
Filled with promise
Overflowing with optimism

In a single dimension
the photograph reminded him
of another self
free to hope
free to wonder
free to grasp
looking for the future.

He remembered the photographer
prodding
annoying
motioning
jostling with the hangers on
and the wannabes
sharing his soul
whether he wanted to or not.

He took a picture in his mind
moved to another decade
and
wondered whether the wisdom
of age
would be enough
to bring the photograph back to life.

Did it look back at him
and laugh?        

Blue Madonna

The painting hung from a corner of the wall
Unassuming
and simple.
He held his Madonna's hand,
as they gazed at the pensive face
of Christ's Mother.
He was struck by the coincidence.
His Madonna wore the same gaze,
as she stared at him with soulful eyes.
He sensed a sadness behind them,
and he felt a tugging irony
at the comparison.
He knew that she was thinking
of another love,
wondering whether a new love
would allow her to be
his Blue Madonna.

Would he worship her
with the reverence of a believer?        

Zen and the Art of Spring Cleaning

As I push the vacuum around the house
and clean the counters
scrub the debris of a week
from the shiny surfaces
and discard
the used up trappings
of my life,

I think of you.

Every now and then
I need to adjust the inventory
and remove the extra baggage
from the carousel
Otherwise it will go round and round
forever.
The simplicity of physical labor
allows me to concentrate
on the complexity of my feeling
toward a new woman in my life

In the ordinary running away
I do every day
In the meanderings
and gallops
of my thoroughbred anxiety
I sometimes
stop
and listen
and look.
I get hit by fewer trains that way.

I love the way
you free my mind
to think about
the future.

       

Vigil

Everywhere he turned
His women waited;
watching;
a vigil of life and death.
Her breathing was peaceful,
She who once stood guard over her daughter’s virtue.
Now,  she was guarded
by a daughter
who guarded him.
He thought about the other women
passing through his life,
like diners in a fast food restaurant.
They wanted change back from their dollar.
Some of them stayed awhile,
Guarded him
Protected him
Injured him
Wished for him
to become what they expected.
Each of them,
offering up a chalice
filled with love and hate;
dispensing mercy.
He hoped that they would understand
That while he waited,
He wished for them
the happiness they deserved,
while he kept vigil
with the one he brought to the dance;
Guarding her
Giving her comfort
she so richly deserved.        

Other Men

I struggle to form a picture
of a restaurant
You are seated at a table
across from other men

Do you make the same small talk
you make with me?

I wonder if you spill your wine
or whether
you toss your hair
while you nail them to the cross
of male ego
Do they cringe at your courage?
Do you look at them with the looks
you have given me?

I fight the urge
to ask myself the hard questions,
what if they get a higher grade
on the test than I?
What if they are prettier
than I?
What if you will love them
and not me?

Do you hold their hand
with gentle fingers
and touch their knee
with the knee that touched me?

In my mind's eye
the landscape is filled with other men
grasping and groping
wildly pursuing
the one I love
Their lights are brighter than mine
Their souls are purer than mine

Can they change water into wine?
       

Beach

I lay in the sun
tanned and ready for love.
The lounge chair
reclines
at the perfect angle.

I squint at the sun
reveling in nature’s glare
I drench the perspiration
in water from the pool
in which my arm dangles
aimlessly.

My vacation is just begun
and in my head
I hear the quiet lap lap lap
of the water

And
then
the cell phone rings
the notebook computer buzzes
the PDA alarm rings out
The MP3 player starts playing music from the 60s
and the radio promises
riches for the tenth caller
and
a
relaxing
vacation
by the water
on the beach.
       

Snake Charmer

He slithered up to the bar
oozing romantic juices on the floor
He cast a sneaky eye
to where his wife might be
and looked around
for a warm dark place
to curl up in.

His eyes were black as coal
and his long, lithe body
slowly moved to the closest rabbit he could find.

Would she succumb to him
Or
In a flash of insight
look at me
and see the lover
behind the aging bull?

SpaceMan

He pushed the envelope
Put on a white spacesuit
Trained for years
Swam in weightless swimming pools
Took a thousand medical tests
Waited for his day to ride the candle
up to the moon
and back.

He left his family
waiting
at the altar
of professional accomplishment
Wondering whether it was worth it
To see the stars.

The spacecraft
had a million parts
complex computers
lights blinking madly
monster engines
burning fuel and gas
exploding into the darkness
of a launch pad
built with the sweat of a thousand men and women.

When he got to space
He brushed his teeth
looked into the mirror
slept eight hours
read a book
did his work
and looked out the porthole
at the same stars.
       

Video Game

“But, PaPa, I don’t want to go outside”,
he said in his small voice
as he navigated a three dimensional
wonderland
populated with fairies and demons
and monks and warriors.
Real people playing virtual lives
on a virtual landscape
doing virtual things.

I understood his reluctance.
Nobody ever really died in there.
Magic potions and spells
renewed the body and spirit
and the only casualties
were monsters and ogres
roaming the virtual meadows
and lurking in dark corners
of virtual castles.

He wanted to avoid the harsh realities
of the physical world
where accidents happen
and people die
and insects bite
and sun burns.

How could I tell him
that the truth of life
is about the striving
and the risk

How could I tell him
that virtual happiness
was no match for the real thing?

Or was that true after all?

Maybe he would tell me
that reality was the real illusion
and that maybe wars
should be fought on virtual battlefields
where nobody dies.        

PaperClip

I twist you in my hand
slim metal
turning around
to face the music
of my musing.

Now you look like a pretzel
Then, again, a rigid snake
Inanimate
cold
steely jawed
without emotion

As I doodle with my mind
the table vibrates
and you move
slowly
to the drum of a distant hand
tapping to a beat
I cannot hear.

Will I be this bored
when the music stops?

Can You Dance?

Can you dance?
she said  
Coyly.
He thought quickly
Where are my words now?
Surely, they will not fail me now.

In an instant
he knew
that the dance he danced each day
did not count.
The many moments that his truth
danced out of reach,
and his dancing words
hung
swinging
from the top of the business tree
Dangling
like participles
in a grammarian nightmare.

Can you dance?
Of course, he thought.
I dance around my feelings
every day.
If I stop to feel them,
I know that I will surely die.

Can you dance?
Oh, yes, I can.
What kind of dance would you like?
I dance the dance of the runner,
running away
and still away.
I dance the dance of the dreamer,
wishing for a slow and easy pace,
hoping against hope
that the music will follow my lead.

Can you dance?
Can you teach me?        

Magic

 "Daddy, I love you, let me splash you with my magic"
She said frolicking in the pool
Holding her rubber duckie
which doubled as a pool thermometer.
In her eyes it was a magic wand capable of great feats
All things were possible.
How could I tell her that life would disappoint her
in between the ecstasy and the pain
That the mementoes of a happy childhood
would dissolve into days of sadness and hurt?
Or was that true after all?
I looked into the eyes of a true lover
whose purity was unsullied by the failures of the world
and wondered if her true love would wash over me
and transform the world into a magical place
where unconditional caring was commonplace.
I turned away so that she would not see the tears
hoping that her time of magic would last long
and that some of her magic would always be there
to splash over me.        

Wolf Trap

 

In his dream
he walked in a wood
branches in his face
mud under his feet
He enjoyed the battle for survival.
He ate berries and leaves
slept next to water
and awoke to sunlight
filtering through trees
He gladly faced the enemies
in his night.

Each day he faced a new trail
he chose bramble bushes
over paths paved in concrete
He never gave up
never allowed the she wolves
to devour him

As a young wolf
he sauntered through the wood
looking for prey
howled through the night
scratching and serene
he was king of the forest.

He grew older
his pace slowed
and his saunter
turned to a steady gait
still pushing ever forward
to the next kill.

He was never alone
He stayed with the pack
but always apart
always free of entanglements
with the other wolves.

He growled at the enemy
The she wolves prowled
He was unaware of the discontent
growing within.

The she-wolves grew louder
more insistent
They bloodied him with their fangs
until
desperate for peace
he left the pack
and went alone
into the night.

As he grew older
he became content
with his life
ate what he killed
and slept when he liked
He was an old King
Alone with the peace of the jungle.

Then
one day
the Queen of the She-Wolves
approached him in a glade
She smiled at him
and nuzzled his face
with hers.

In an instant,
he surrendered to her charms
tired of the chase
and accepted the fate that awaited him.
He knew that only a Queen
could be his match
But, he wondered whether she would devour him

He sighed
as after a lifetime of struggle
he was happy to allow the possibility
though fearful of the result.

Once again
he sauntered through the wood.
He was a young wolf again
howling at the night
hunting for tomorrow

.


       

Communion

 In his memory
a little girl
in a white dress
making her First Communion,
approached the altar
in purity and innocence.
The  innocence
betrayed her  future
filled with unexpurgated guilt
and regret for the sins
that stained her present.

He wondered whether
some things are meant to be.

Shakespeare spoke of music
as the food of love
Would  she feed him
with her soul?

When he held her in his arms
he remembered the purity of her face
He received his communion
with her in his arms

It felt like holiness.
He was lifted
on a cloud of joy
into the heavens.

In the present
he felt her loss
with the dying desperation
of a sinner
without a confessor.

Was there a Heaven
for him?