FICKLE

"One should rather die than be betrayed.
There is no deceit in death.
It delivers precisely what it has promised.

Betrayal, though ...
betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.”

- Steven Deitz

FICKLE

by denny



Each day they gather
flies attracted to honey
sycophants, spouting
inane chatter, back slapping
in mock friendship.
Observant, I stand afar
reluctant at first
to join the cyber circle.

People stop,
discuss their mood
rally each other
with well-tried deceits.
You woo me
as protégée, confidant
tempting me
to coil you around
the mainspring of my heart

Seduced by feigned charms
I drop my guard
let you lead me to the dance.
Until then one day,
clicking on my favorite link,
I am suddenly confronted
with a dreadful phrase

Access Denied

.

Amber Haze

"Forgotten? No, we never do forget:
We let the years go;
wash them clean with tears,
Leave them to bleach out in the open day,
Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes,
Till we shall dare unfold them without pain,--
But we forget not, never can forget. "

- Dinah Maria Mulock

Amber Haze
by denny

He sat there staring at the bottle
Standing half empty on the top shelf
Where he had placed it 5 years before.
He had managed to ignore
It's temptations all these years, but now
He could feel the old craving coming back.

He hadn't seen them in nearly twice that long
Not since they moved away and
Left him there in the lonely house
Filled with all the clouded memories.
The Phone call had come as a surprise.

"Dad, we just happened to be in town
and thought you might like
to meet your grandchildren".

Grandchildren. That sounded somehow strange;
He barely remembered them growing up.
Their Mother had died when the last was born
And his world just dissolved into an amber haze.
They had been High School sweethearts
She had the deepest brown eyes, and
Chestnut hair. And she had been his life
For as long as he could remember.

Life had been hard, but she brought
A measure of joy into every day.
He got up early this morning, not knowing
Exactly what to think or what to do.
He fished around in the closet for
An old white shirt and put on clean socks,
Went into the kitchen to fix breakfast

When he opened the cupboard, his old friend
Was sitting there on the shelf .. waiting.
He sat down at the table and stared, remembering
What life had been with her, and after ...
And the half empty bottle on the top shelf.

Perfection

“The reality we can observe
is but an imperfect reflection of
a deeper, more beautiful reality”
- Dr. Steven Weinberg

Perfection
by denny


One of the most wondrous things
about human nature is
we seem to require
a poetic version of life,
attuned to natures ceaseless vibrancy.

We yearn for a perfect sense of self

a longing for beauty, pain
and paradox;
just as the vibrant colors of spring
conceal the muted rusts of autumn.

As if something as delicate as a poem,
ephemeral in its beguiling nature,
daring and whimsical,
somehow divine - could be
the bridge from dark to light.

Weeds In The Garden

"God is a comedian, playing to an audience
too afraid to laugh.”
- Voltaire

Weeds In The Garden
by denny

“You really shouldn’t make those faces,
someday it might just freeze that way”.
What if my Mother was right?
Abruptly, I ran to the bathroom mirror
to make sure I was still my loveable self

Years later, I am still plagued
by the vision of Linda Blair
possessed in the Exorcist,
face contorted by demonic forces,
recalling my Mother’s stern warning.

And the face I see in the mirror
no longer young, the relentless hand of time
having done its cruel, indelible work.
The once vibrant youth entombed
within this aged and wrinkled shell.

Does the sun no longer shine?
Have the vibrant butterflies of youth
somehow become faded and gray?
Must all the playful weeds in the garden,
be sacrificed for the thorns of the rose?

No Running In The Halls

"You don't have to suffer to be a poet;
adolescence is enough suffering for anyone"
- John Ciardi

No Running In The Halls
by denny

Now it seems so long ago
those first uncertain days
put away our childish play
new school and friends to make
to take the first tentative steps
into youthful adolescence.

Serious lessons to be learned
No more recess, now it’s Gym
Wow! – just look at him – you giggle
the first girlish infatuations
divert your glance, don’t let him see
did he look at me, does he even know
that I exist – Oh! I do hope so.

And then the words that break the spell
Children – get back to class
No running in the halls, no chewing gum
as if she doesn’t really understand at all,
how much older we’ve become ?

Lost Souls

Lost Souls
by denny

There's an old abandoned baseball field near my home
Where I go to hash out the problems in my life.
I sit amid the worn empty bleachers,
full of muted voices and watch
Games long over on lazy summer afternoons.

Baseball catches in my craw like a cat with a fishbone.
I played as a child, got my virginity ripped from my soul
By a baseball coach who long ago missed his chance
And took his vengeful retribution out on each of us.

I watch the ghost players upon the dusty field;
Well worn gloves a size too big on hands half grown.
All the young boys that played and are now long gone,
Dreams of the big leagues gone in wasted lives

At this empty stadium in miniature
A lone crane has taken up residence, a lonely sight.
I think his mother found herself far from the flight path
Had to deliver her overburdened womb prematurely.

Thus he reminds me of myself, born somewhere
Other than the place he was intended to be, a pariah.
At dusk he swoops in to land on the old batting cage,
The only contender on deck, waiting to eye the pitch.

His long slender neck makes an elegant curve.
He stretches upward, eyes left and right, and preens.
Now motionless, head turned into the wind, eyes stoic
He stares forward as if to ask some eternal question.

I do too, and I feel a keen solitary sense of empathy.
This refugee from the coastal climes is me with wings.
I would fly but never will, this land holds me fast,
Damned as I am to die in this God forsaken place.

So I will desiccate in this arid landscape.
And my winged friend will wonder senselessly
Why he was born in this ballpark.
The game long over, three outs and two left on base;
He on his batting cage, me on this bench.

A Freedom Song

denny is the descendent of a Slave
brought to Virginia in 1682 to work the tobacco fields,
whose grandson married a Tuscarora woman.

A Freedom Song

by denny

Listen my voice, I am an American
And I sing a Freedom Song
A song of hope and promise
But one filled with grief and despair

I sing of my Native Brothers
Their ancient wisdom and love for this land
I sing of their tears and sorrows
I sing of what once was.

I sing of my Black Brothers
Of slavery and oppression
Negro spirituals sung in the fields
Under the whip and chain.

I sing of my Hispanic Brothers
Fleeing poverty and hopelessness
I sing their songs of hope
Longing for a chance to be free.

I sing of the Irish, Asians, and Dutch
Working in the fields and factories
I sing of Appalachian coal miners
I sing of sweat, hard work and courage.

I sing of all my brothers
Those that came and made America great
Building a Nation on their backs
Giving their lives for the next generation.