from the corner to the brink of insanity to the shadows to angels @ the sidewalk cafe to the rafters // & Visits with Mr. Linky
I. (Wed., 07/20/2011)
I stand here on the cornerII. (Tues., 12/20/2011)
gazing into the window
and I have to remind myself to breathe.
This is not one of my usual haunts;
Its atmosphere is meant for social types,
and well, that's not really me.
I can do this;
It's just the open sign gives me pause;
Its bright red glow is like a stop light
I so itch for it to turn amber
maybe it's timeIII. (Tues., 04/30/2013)
to still the paranoia
in at least one world
before irrational thoughts
and hard delusions
skirt the edge of insanity
maybe it's time
to not push the envelope
in an online world
where social angst finds a home
It's time to step out of the darkness;IV. (Tues., 05/28/2013)
dust off this cloak of shadows;
unfurl these dormant wings intent on flying.
My dear sweet angel, thank you for carrying my voice through the doors.V. (Tues., 05/28/2013)
So here I sit now at the sidewalk cafeVI. (Wed., 03/05/2014)
listening to the voices spill out the door &
tip my hat as they leave for the night.
...& I'm jonesing for a fix.
That's why I'm hereVII.
as your words permeate the air
throughout the room
gathering in the rafters
where I can
draw them to me
fill my lungs
awaken my senses
smother the voices so I might
I've taken up residency here
at the sidewalk cafe
where words overflow from the neighbors
& pool at my feet
Mr. Linky stops by often; he always
seems to know where to find me.
he visits between performers
chats me up about those who
have come&gone and those
still remaining on the set list
when he's done, he pushes in his chair,
eyes my notebook & raises his brow;
an understanding passes between us
as he tips his hat and leaves.
I wait on his booming voice
to find my nerves settle.
Inspiration for this piece (and the one to follow): Over at dVerse Poets Pub they have been celebrating three years. As things wind down, the prompt is to write an ode to the pub. There are some very nice tributes from the array of talented poets that often grace the pub stage. I admit I found this quite hard (for reasons I can't quite bring myself to rehash) to compose such an ode. But it gave me pause to reflect back on the journey I have taken from the moment the doors officially opened. The first six parts of the above piece are from different pinnacle moments. The sixth stanza an ode of sorts to the pub. Well, that and the piece that follows...
Just Like the One the Shepherd Holds
Time & time again,
I fear the hook
from the stage.
(part of my neuroses -
playing devil's advocate;
if only I'd take a moment to
listen to the guy on
my other shoulder.)
The reality is
a shepherd works
to bring his flock together;
in the right direction
when they deviate from the path;
from the edge of cliff
as they teeter on the brink;
his hook is like a cast after a break,
signed from head to toe
with the encouragement & praise of
all those who gather around
the stage awaiting their own
turn @ the mic.
An aside: Thank you to all of you, pubtenders and patrons, who have taken the time to scrawl across "the cast."