Best Poems Spring 2022

1. Muse; A True Tanka

A muse---for those who
Chase the Beautiful Naiads---
Is a thought from Christ;
Or, it is a thought from hell,
Whichever the poet serves.

2. The Conqueror

The two greatest men in history died at thirty-three.
One, like Satan himself, conquered the unconquerable.
He laid the stones of Tyre into causeways, and his armies
Passed upon them into the isle,---it fulfilled prophecy
As a wise, good hearted preacher once said.
Years before, Nebuchadnezzar laid siege to it by the Trojan Horse.
Yet this, this conqueror scraped the town to the foundations
And built causeways out to the inner island.
It's been said before.

The other, Christ, none truly believe will bear a sword.
They say of Him, "He is gentle, soft, like a blanket
"Which a toddler carries upon his arm, and suckles his fingers
"And cries to." I say, yes, a toddler does this, yet a mature
Christian ought to feed upon more than milk and honey.
The mature Christian ought to look upon the nations
And see war, that this is what Christ will bring at the end.
A sword, which many tens of thousands, a greater
Army than Alexander's, shall purge the seas
And lay the valleys with blood to the coasts.
He will, in one day, accomplish justice, while the saints
Are huddled like Noah in their mystical arks---
They shall never see it, nor taste of it.
They shall huddle together with love
When Daniel's vision shall be accomplished.
We shall look up, and see our bless'ed conqueror---
And we shalt then be carried up, before
The great and mighty battle; where those rotting corpses
Shall remain in the marshes of hell for eternity. Those who remain,
The small remnant we are, shall inherit the Earth,
Never having tasted wrath; but like Jeremiah,
Shall bear our burdens, when we warn
Men not to ask, "What is the Burden of the LORD?"
We will say to you, "It is thou, o foolish man!"

3. Elvis Sings to Me

Elvis sings a song 
I wrote... Yet he sings the words
Better than my words. 
It is like angels singing.
I published in a journal---

The journal was called
Something, but on the barcode
The name was misspelled.
A dubious journal that
I had to pay to publish.

The Elvis song was 
Like my Hail Britannica 
Recording. Some words
Were sung for their lyrical
Flow, differently than the page.

It left some questions 
In my mind, whether my work's
Quality were true.
Yet, dreams of music mean I
Feel peace and accomplishment.

It seems Elvis' 
Song,---the true meaning had come,---
Is God's word. And my
Paltry poetry is a 
Close likeness, but not scripture.

4. Self Reflection

I sit. I think about Micah 7. But, I cannot sit for long. In the Black Screen of the TV, turned off, I see my reflection. I get nervous--- Anxious--- I even hate it. I see an arrogance. I understand what my family is seeing in me.

Inwardly, I feel peace. Like I'm accomplishing my goals, little by little. That I'm winning my battles. That my silence, my inaction, is not contrary to what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Like Micah 7. I sit in darkness. I do not know what else I can do. I say to myself, "I have sinned." 

Seeing myself from the outside, I can see how it drives my family crazy. To see the me perceived by others, it is hateful, arrogant, slovenly, lazy, prideful... That is how I appear when reflected in the TV. I see myself like I am seen by others.

Inwardly, I am not a ravenous wolf. Inwardly, I am calm, reticent, without fear, forming more understanding on the nature of being kindhearted, forgiving and able to trust. I see in my reflection someone else. Like I saw in my mother a sort of nonchalance reflected which wasn't her true feelings. Appearances can be deceiving. It seems like I am not at rest. It seems like I am unwise, lazy, prideful, vain, arrogant... inwardly, I know all of that is the opposite. I am trying my best to see the world through other's eyes, to draw from wisdom a cup of salvation. To understand.

I see what I look like to the outside world. I even am close to hating myself. But, that is not me. Like my mother's mien, I misread it for nonchalance when it was simply her playfulness. We put on an outward display which is not reflecting what is inward. I see myself from the perspective of others. It looks vain... Inwardly, I am contemplating the truths which are foundational to the world. I can see why people hate me. But, I can tell you, what you see in appearance is not who I am underneath. Outwardly, I am a ravenous wolf, but inwardly I am a lamb with a lion's courage and a serpent's wisdom. I look vain, stupid, insecure, lazy, prideful, arrogant,---like I am continually not at ease. But, I know from my reflection that what I seem is not what I am. Inwardly, I am at peace, readying myself to flee and lay aside this world's cares.

5. Writer not a Gamer

You were always better than me at games.
I'd fight my way to Great Tiger
And you'd fight your arch nemesis Mr. Sandman.
I remember at Stratego, you placed
Your troops in illogical order.
No bombs surrounded your flag.
I'd send my rows in columns,
My massive armies,
And you'd take one little guy
And decimate an entire force.
Haphazardly, the guy would walk
An eight getting blown up with a bomb.
My generals would defend, but the damage was already done.
Star Wars, Donkey Kong, and Punch Out
Mario, That game we borrowed from Meredith,
You were always better than me.
I play my cards... but lose.
I can see the strategy to win the game at Risk,
But I refuse to conquer the world.

You were a hero to me,
Able to get to Mr. Sand Man
And beat Soda Popinski.
Your epic foe, Mr. Sandman.
Once, I think I saw you get to the guy
Right before Mike Tyson.
We were never a gaming family...
My scrabble skills are par excellence.
I am able to score above three hundred and seventy
In a two player match regularly.
But, that just gets to my real talent.
Words---I love them.
Meaning. My childhood obsessions 
With gemstones, coins, rocks, plants, birds,
Animals, Alcohols---I wanted to know every kind.
I wanted to know all the different things.
I was very curious... always compiling facts
Data, in encyclopedic form.
Stories I loved, art... I still gorge myself on art.
The more fantastic, the more I loved it.

A part of me would like to be good at games.
But, I am not good at them.
I never was. I'd get to Great Tiger
At about the age of seven.
I showed no prodigiousness at games.
I can understand the rules...
I'm good at memorizing specific details
And remembering after a long time how games ought to be played.
But, even chess, I didn't know about En Passant 
Until I was about twenty-four.
When John played a trick on me, and I thought he lost his mind.
I thought I could get one past him
By jumping my pawn past his.
And that's when I learned it.

Our family, loving games, were not top quality gamers.
You could just barely beat Soda Popinksi. He was a rival of ours
And I'd watch you, with starry eyes,
Sometimes get to the Sandman...
And he, he was our arch nemesis.
And once you beat him. Only once.
And you got knocked out in one punch
By Macho Man.

I guess I'm saying I ought to be a writer.
As, the only other thing I could be is a gamer.
And I'm not very good at games.
Love you, Mom.

6. Uncle Don

A cherry Chevy in the Apartment's garage
Sits with a lock and a yellow sign with a handgun on it,
Warning not to enter. A laborer of Caterpillar
A father to two, a good husband...
His PA Dutch accent was thick.
He was simply spoken, a hard worker
Wore suspenders... He was Blue Collar Pennsylvania.
I already miss him.

He dated a black woman.
This came as a surprise to us.
He was soft spoken, and once told me
That on an occasion where corporal punishment
Was being used, he took the belt from Pap-pap
And told him, "That's enough of that."
He owned my Great Grandmother's apartment
Which housed her nicely through her life---
That apartment was in our family for generations.
Later he would rent it out and tell us about the tenants.
Some were good, some were bad.

He was salt of the Earth.

There was a twinkle in his eye
When I would tell him about my jobs as a Tree Trimmer.
I never made it at that job,---
A friend always "accidentally" sabotaged my work;
But, I don't remember Don making me feel inadequate.
Rather, I think he was just proud that I put in a day's real work.
He'd always tell me, "You staying out of trouble?"
I'd say, "Always."
We'd talk, while he would smoke his cigarette.
Cigarettes into his seventies---
He and his son would talk mechanic talk
Smoke cigarettes,
And I felt welcomed into the conversation.
He never judged me.
Probably because he and I thought a lot alike.
Mostly alike. That generation I have a lot more in common with
Than my own.

My Big Black Lab was---for a time---
Not a nice dog. Uncle Don walked through our front door
And kneed him in the chest and literally scarred the shit out of him.
He was not a guy you wanted to be on the bad side of.
He was strong, muscular even into his old age.
My Mom said of an old picture of him, that he was a "Hottie".
He was strong, forgiving, righteous,
And I remember him driving me home from my Aunt's
We had a long talk. We both agreed that our cousins 
From out of town were... well... a little bit too liberal.
I don't know if I talked about Jesus with him in that car ride,
But I lived and talked about Jesus a lot.
I only hope somewhere, through osmosis,
He gained a confession.

Yesterday, there was a light in the sky.
My dad and I thought it was a planet.
I went in, and brought out my farmer's Almanac
Which I had just bought, seeing if it were Venus.
It wasn't. Rather, it was a light in the sky,
And I'd like to think that it was his soul passing onto heaven
Checking up on us one last time.
I know he found Jesus.

7. The Robins in February

Two robins fly on a branch in February...
The naturalists lie through their ignorance.
"It's not uncommon to see the bird
"In winter time." Yet, I never have until today.
Never once, in thirty-two years
Have I seen a robin in February.
The Blackbirds had I seen,
And in one week, the Robin?
A sure sign of spring,
Should the Robin tarry in winter
It means eternal spring.
It means, unfortunately, the climate
Is changing. There is no way
A half-millennia's worth of wisdom is wrong.

8. Charcuterie

Three cheeses,
Smoked Gouda, Drunken Goat Cheese,
And a third orange one with some fruitiness.
Strawberries, and succulent grapes---
It's a good season for grapes.
Conversation swings to metaphor.
Everyone is trying to understand what is a metaphor.
Ask the poet in the room...
But Aunt M________ was right
Yet was scolded.

I offer to the semi-curious onlookers
"Dead Metaphor."
None ever heard of that.
There is also complex metaphor.
There is negative capability---
When a poem has doubtful interpretations
Or perhaps two or three.
Some also call that Wit,
When you can draw out two or three meanings for a poem.

A simile uses "Like" or "As".
I didn't dare get into Ekphrasis or something more complex.
Though, I did get to a dead metaphor,
And this pleased A____.
He'd never heard of it before.
A way to explain it,
Is a metaphor so commonly applied to an object
That it became a part of the lexicon.
A "Tailgate" is a dead metaphor.
Emphasis on the "Tail"
That it applies to the "Tail"
Of the truck. Others are "Causeway"
Or "Parkway" which are different a little
As those entail also oxymoronic statements.

I learned that these concepts are difficult
For even an intelligent person to understand;
My family is not stupid.
As a lawyer struggled to understand them.
Apparently an entire argument erupted at his office
Over their specific meanings.
You just got to kind of feel them out...
Like with all literature.

Some can be applied two or three different ways.
Idiom was understood.
We agreed that "A watched pot never boils"
Was proverbial. I do agree it is difficult to pin down 
What exactly this device is.
Is it Cliché? Is it Idiom? Is it Proverbial? Is it Metaphor?
Maybe all four.
How it is metaphor, is that it is not literally true
That a watched pot never boils.
But it is counter intuitive, because one sees the common
Activity of watching a pot, so the familiarity hides the deceptive untruth.
 As, certainly, me in my absurd focus during cooking,
I have watched a pot
And seen the moment it has begun to boil.
It kind of has a bubble or two at first, then a few bubbles,
Then bubbles collect on all the sides of the pot,
To which it begins to raise to the top.
And finally, after a slow increase in turbulence,
It begins to rapidly percolate.

Not paying attention to the water boiling,
Which is what the metaphor means,
Shortens the attention, and one doesn't notice
These steps. Rather, at one moment it seems
To be steady---probably steaming a little---
And the next the water rolls in that beautiful way.

I didn't really want to argue. I just listened.
I spoke what I understand is a metaphor.
More of a complex idea that is full and filled with meaning.
It's something like the Logos
Of an old Twilight Zone Episode
Where you know what the episode is really saying.
Which, is likely an idea attached to the real world
Gained through something which is pure fantasy.
Though, nonfiction can have metaphor, too.
The way I understand it.
As, the entire piece builds up to a meaning,
A full idea or revelation about something deeper than the actual
Events being described.
So, true stories can have metaphors in them, too.
A parable is a form of metaphor.
Allegory and Analogy work through metaphor.
As, in literature, metaphor is a parent class
Of a range of literary devices
Which simile is included.

Alyse showed everyone how to eat the smoked salmon.
I preferred it with the Drunken Goat cheese,
And the strawberries elevated the flavor of the grapes.
The strawberries were weak, but even my cousin
Noted, that they made everything around them taste better.
Like a good wine ought to do.

9. A Hard Day's Work

I put in a satisfying day of hard work.
Drank my cokes on break.
Felt achy in every joint.
Tired was the word, pooped,
Treading on hot sidewalks.

I came home, and I lay on my bed.
The hours passed by, slowly.
I realized, that dread from childhood
Of the passage of time slowly
Was built for a purpose.
When one works all day,
Eight hours, and comes home physically exhausted,
Time ought to move more slowly
So you can hopefully be better prepared for the next day's work.

10. My Tired Body

I worked my shift.
I could do the shift.
My doctor says I'm in remission.
It wasn't mental this time.
Rather, my body just broke down physically.
I twisted my thumb sideways...
I wanted to stay, but thought better of it.
Why risk a torn ligament?
I went home.
At least it wasn't mental...
Well, unless you count the shock of seeing your thumb bent backward.
Thank God for risperdone.

11. Biblically Accurate Angels

The Cherubim, like
A griffon, haunches with
Its four faces of the
Man, Lion, Eagle and Calf.
It, covered with eyes, has wings.

Then, the Twenty-Four
Elders, look like human men
With hoary, crowned heads
Robed in brightly, shining Cloth.
These are the second.

Then there are the Thrones
Seated nigh Jehovah's Courts
Who are in the form
Of men and women. These sing
Their hymns of Battles and Heart.

Then, Archangels are
Two, Michael and Gabriel,---
Those now tasked as the
Messengers of God,---carry
God's utmost important news.

Then Seraphim, like
A loong, with feathered wings, it
Flies, though it didn't
Cover its face or legs toward
Me when I saw them singing.

Then, are numerous
Angels we do not know of.
Many myriads.
First of, are the raised in Christ,
Then many awesome creatures.

Then the Cherethims
Who are demons, rogue Seraphs
Two rogue Cherubs, whom
Are the Dragon and Beast,---the 
False Prophet is of Satyrs.

Antichrist, I think,
Was an Archangel. He whom
Is Lawless upon
Our forsaken Earth. Satan's
Coup is ordered without Christ.