For One Trick Pony
But it didn't. The clouds threatened rain,
And some fell. The air, then, grew dense,
And, though not really hot, wasn't pleasant
At all. I stayed in the pool with my eyes
Firmly closed. I can't say what I thought.
My mind, I think, vomited what it had
Eaten the hours before: my time on the job,
Ripping paper from boxes to put onto shelves,
My sadness when learning my battery died,
And happiness when someone helped me
To jump it, the hours of self abuse reading
The news: the bad faith, the violence,
Transparent lying (for profit, of course),
And the pitiful spectacle of people searching
For signs of Satan among us, and witches,
Who ought to be captured and tortured
And burned. As I floated, I wondered if
There was a poem in that, a nation convulsed,
In hysterics, not even an inch past the trials
In Salem, the fires and drownings. Oh, sad,
Stupid land! In the end, I dried off,
Went inside and had lunch, and the sun
Never did show itself.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 18 times
Written on 2021-06-19 at 01:01
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Poem for a Dreary Day
The sun seemed poised to start shining all day,But it didn't. The clouds threatened rain,
And some fell. The air, then, grew dense,
And, though not really hot, wasn't pleasant
At all. I stayed in the pool with my eyes
Firmly closed. I can't say what I thought.
My mind, I think, vomited what it had
Eaten the hours before: my time on the job,
Ripping paper from boxes to put onto shelves,
My sadness when learning my battery died,
And happiness when someone helped me
To jump it, the hours of self abuse reading
The news: the bad faith, the violence,
Transparent lying (for profit, of course),
And the pitiful spectacle of people searching
For signs of Satan among us, and witches,
Who ought to be captured and tortured
And burned. As I floated, I wondered if
There was a poem in that, a nation convulsed,
In hysterics, not even an inch past the trials
In Salem, the fires and drownings. Oh, sad,
Stupid land! In the end, I dried off,
Went inside and had lunch, and the sun
Never did show itself.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 18 times
Written on 2021-06-19 at 01:01
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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