great poems

Some Cities Never Belong to Us – A Poem by Sunil Sharma

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Some cities never belong to us or
We to them, despite having lived
for decades on those twisted streets.
Like a loveless marriage, you tend to spend time
sans being aware of the changing seasons.
The years leave no marks
and then comes a time to snap the link.
Goodbye.
Another unknown journey begins.
We all are hobos
in search eternal
for a home of our own.
And post-modern vagabonds beneath
our designer suits
only hopping from one place to another.

More at http://drsunilsharma.blogspot.in/.

Chance Encounter in the Big Box Store – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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In the big box store
Waiting on line to make a return
Older woman ahead of me
Exasperated by confused cashier
She turns to me
With a twinkle in her eye
Smiles and shakes her head
Hoping for resolution
Knowing there’s a slim chance
of this going right
But instead of anger
She takes it all in stride
She smiles again looking my way
Her transaction complete

I complete my exchange
Then see her a bit up ahead
I say excuse me
Tell her that when she smiled at me
She had my Mom’s smile
and a lovely twinkle in her eyes
Just like my Mom had
She tells me I made her day
I tell her I lost my Mom a few years ago
But she brought her back with her smile
We talk and exchange family histories
Have a few laughs about life
She was touched by my compliment
I had a Mom again for a few minutes
Priceless exchange in the big box store
New York City
This is why we live here
People and connection
Moments in time…

Lawn Order – A Poem by Stan Morrison

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larvae and worms rework decay
giving impartial entropy to matter
weeds outstrip intentional growth
life requires death to carry on
fallen leaves blanket dormant plants
through winter’s freeze to rebirth

Ted – A Poem by Gareth Culshaw

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Popping kindle, wafting smoke,
the blackening log.
Orange glow, lava tinge took me back
to Ted as he coughed, wheezed.

His lungs full of smoke like the chimney.
Rib cage tight, his insides shouting,
like people stuck in a burning building.
What you do in life sits somewhere deep.

In him a volcano of fires he helped create,
spitting out. Bubbly blood in the sink
like water pressed out of a leather football.
Lack of sleep by a grainy cough,

his skin tanned and bark ridged.
Ted poked the coal with a versed hand.
Sitting back, letting the light shine through.
The only light in his life.

More at http://www.gculshaw.co.uk.

West Lane – A Poem by Stan Morrison

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someone left a shoe in the middle of the road
a single black shoe on the blacktop in the rain
a trailer park, med office, gas station, veterinary clinic
provide the boundaries of this wet intersection
a specific shoe, color, left or right, size, brand
an amorphous detail of who, when why, how

we see each other in superficial terms
often devoid of any human details
the rain washes away the clues
the light turns green
then we drive away

Smatter of Night – A Poem by Ananya S. Guha

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This scatter of rains
these outpourings of smell
a dash of the human touch
like that much,
the sidewalks are lousy
crammed with people
busy but drowsy
umbrellas sky high
walking back home
tiredness on the steep
these hills on a heap
this scatter of rains
the smatter of night.

Floss Away! – A Poem by G. Louis Heath

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Floss your mind with these flossy lines.
Relax, give it a good flossing. Floss the
pre-frontal cortex, home to your best
thoughts and plans. Then briskly do

your hippocampus, to keep your
memories fresh. Dementia is a terrible
thing. Don’t forget to get the dark
corners where the id takes refuge.

Floss away the repression or risk chronic
depression. Floss away! Floss away!
Floss away daily!

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