BEFORE THE STORM

How strangely still
the water is today.
Calm and tranquil. strangely still.

Dark clouds on the horizon,
harbingers of things to come;
clouds that obliterate the sun.

The air seems cold; it chills,
winds stirring through the clearing.
Winds of change do not thrill.

How strangely still
the water is today.
Peaceful thoughts; I get my fill.

And then, the clouds converge,
driven by gusts of fire and winds;
a nasty dose of an ill will.

Before the storm, it seemed quite warm.
How strangely still
the water was today. Such a rapid decay!

A 9/11 poem based on “Sea Calm” by Langston Hughes

NINE-ELEVEN

 

Lest we forget…
Many lives lost, affected and changed,
our perspectives forever askew, rearranged.
Our concern for humanity given new light,
ten years in the making, and it’s still not right.
Sacrifices made by the selfless and compassionate;
the brave and we’re still helpless.
Never to be far from our hearts and heads.
Buried within our souls instead,
explosive fire, never silenced,
thousand cries of anguish, never silenced.
One massive blaze unquenched, never silenced,
it still remains to burn in our common psyche all the same.
The eternal flame. Lest we forget.

NOT COMING HOME

The phone rings.
An unanswered summoning
leaving one to wonder.
He said goodbye today.
He was used to saying “See you later”.
And the longer it had gone without answer
made her worry. The children came to mind.
Do they know? Did they hear?
Why doesn’t it add up?
Through the window, smoke and dust,
a veil shrouded in obscurity.
You watched in terror. Replayed
over and over with the same result;
an insane happenstance. No chance
to say “I love you”. Only goodbye.
Your gut tells you what your heart refuses
to intimate. It’s too late. He’s not coming home.

CRICKET SYMPHONY

He plays all night
working hard to get it right
one annoying note at a time.
 
Chirp, chirp, chirp
it does usurp
my serenity, thus this rhyme.
 
I hear his noise
not one of my joys,
without it I’d be fine.
 
I’d sleep all night
and wake up bright
and feeling quite sublime.
 
It’s in the house
that noisy louse,
I think that it’s a crime.
 
Beneath the stove?
In the alcove?
I’m about to lose my mind.
 
Another chirp emits,
but silence now. It’s quit!
Hooray for sleeping time.
 
Feeling cozy,
rather dozy,
serenity is mine!
 
But then, again,
I hear my friend
with its incessant whine.
 
He plays all night
working hard to get it right
one annoying note at a time.