On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> after it disappears.
>
> Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
>
>
> Released
>
> A fly bangs against my window
> its complex eyes piecing together
> winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> and why (must be the thought),
> can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
>
> I opened the window helping escape
> knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> but to remain here, a prisoner,
> would only find him suffering on the sill
> by morning.
>
> Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
>
> I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
>
> Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
>
> JDS
-----------------------
Night of Doubt

It's never a free ride
but the moon knows that,
looking down on the tears
and the smiles and the bombs
and the babies,
turning its dark side
to the homeless and hungry
and needle existence.
 
So we scratch 
at the loneliness,
pamper the bigot,
turn a blind eye
to the abuse of flesh and blood,
enjoy the meatloaf entree,
looking for that slice of pie
in the sky
and green lawns
but we also know,
something the moon might forget,
we're not alone
in the fight,
sharing a touch and kiss
a forgotten moment
of what it's all about
in the end.
 
So yes, everybody feels the hurt
at times
and sometimes we love and laugh
but it's part of the fabric
and if you doubt that today,
look up at the moon tonight
where one billion, billion eyes have looked
and survived,
just when they thought
they couldn't.

JDS

On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> after it disappears.
>
> Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
>
>
> Released
>
> A fly bangs against my window
> its complex eyes piecing together
> winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> and why (must be the thought),
> can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
>
> I opened the window helping escape
> knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> but to remain here, a prisoner,
> would only find him suffering on the sill
> by morning.
>
> Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
>
> I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
>
> Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
>
> JDS
---------------------------

Ghost Parade

Squeals ricocheted 
off falling confetti 
as Joltin Joe rode 
an open air Cadillac 
down the canyon of heroes'   
and back out of sight 
down a dusty alley, 
a song was sung 
from the cracked lips 
of a city minstrel. 
  
Outside, cheering reached 
the minstrels ears and it became 
his make believe concert; 
A back alley crooner
cranking out 
another poetic gamble 
from that narrow honky-tonk 
of filled ash cans.
and feral cats 

The parade continued 
until dusk brought 
the street cleaners 
and left over stumble 
of revelers, 
but he was the lucky one 
this day; 
Confetti makes a fine bed 
and after all 
there was his concert again 
tomorrow night, 
long after that Yankee slugger 
is served breakfast in bed, 
with a wink 
from Marilyn. 

JDS

On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> after it disappears.
>
> Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
>
>
> Released
>
> A fly bangs against my window
> its complex eyes piecing together
> winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> and why (must be the thought),
> can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
>
> I opened the window helping escape
> knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> but to remain here, a prisoner,
> would only find him suffering on the sill
> by morning.
>
> Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
>
> I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
>
> Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
>
> JDS
--------------------------------------

Ebbets Field

At one time
Flatbush carried the scent of hot dogs, pine tar and leather;
cheers would punctuate a double or triple or homer
and thirty five thousand Dodger fans could coax a tie into a win
from under a hot summer sun in the apt named ‘bleachers’ --
the players would spit their brown dissolve to the ground
arguing with the umps, that ‘out’ call, or ‘strike’ call,
at times clearing the dugout, rejections leading to ejections;
a game of baseball was more a war on a diamond shaped battle field.
dubbed America’s pastime.

Then, in time, a wrecking ball slammed into the Ebbets Field facade
punching a hole into Brooklyn Sundays not far from the spot where Robinson
punched one out into left field and soon enough
that outfield grass became churned mud from the iron treads
of bulldozers replacing those players steel cleats and men with maps pointing to the spot
where apartments would grow, bringing hookers and pizza and switch hitters
all standing side by side with the home plate ghosts
and right where hot grounders tried to skip by a shortstop’s scramble.

So now it’s the Ebbets Apartments and some TV’s are tuned to
the game in L.A where the Dodgers skipped away in ‘57, leaving the fans flat
with fins growing on the Chevy’s but fans they remain,
screaming at the re-play, shouting ‘safe’, over the hum of an air-conditioner
while waiting for the Sunday pasta and cool beer, reminiscing with any one
that will listen.

JDS

Ebbets info:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ebbets_Field

On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> after it disappears.
>
> Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
>
>
> Released
>
> A fly bangs against my window
> its complex eyes piecing together
> winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> and why (must be the thought),
> can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
>
> I opened the window helping escape
> knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> but to remain here, a prisoner,
> would only find him suffering on the sill
> by morning.
>
> Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
>
> I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
>
> Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
>
> JDS
----------------------------

Velvet Elvis

It was velvet, the king complete with sideburns,
black as night with gold belt and white cape
and It hung in her living room, over the Formica and vinyl
couch where we sat and popped wide mouth beers,
coughed as all good smokers do and attempted small talk.

“Do you like this art? Velvet, you know, picked it up
when I went to Graceland”

“Yes, quite dramatic.”

“Mind if I light another?” I asked.

‘No, please, let me go get that scrapbook of the trip,
some really good shots.”

I overheard her on the phone in the bedroom --
“I don’t think it’s working out, I’ll call..”

Iron Gates, music notes captured on Kodak
and me with ten or twelve forced “Oh wow’s”,
as that famous pompadour filled the pages.

“Do you think he was exploited by the Colonel?”

“No, not really, it was drugs, you know, that did him in.”

“Not fame, fortune, caged in the rock and roll zoo?”

We popped another wide mouth, never discussing world affairs,
barely grazing the weather -- it was Elvis, Elvis, Elvis.

“He was the King, you know.”

“Yes, and he died on the throne.”

She was right, and like the King,
it just wasn’t working out.”

JDS

^

On Saturday, December 30, 2023 at 3:10:55 AM UTC-5, Ash Wurthing wrote:
> ^
---------------------------------

Lunacy

You can smell lunacy,
It has that pigsty stench --
more a pungent, black mud, swamp stink
just before the full moon phase slices with a hot axe,
reducing brain fat into a silent quiver.

Lunacy squeals,
with a swift chop upon thought;
blank eyes rapidly dart back and forth,
searching for a last known friendly smile
before it slowly drifts into a grotesque grimace.

Lunacy can walk into a get laid joint,
over there on First Ave., only to leave
when heavy mascara and after shave
sting the eyes and nostrils -- all those
semi-crooked smiles silently mouthing
small prayers
of maybe tonight dreams.

Lunacy knows where the East River
runs fastest with its quick rip tide hug --
a compassionate understanding
of complete tranquility.

A jump is pondered, though rejected,
as that despondent line is much too long
at river’s edge --
Lunacy will have to be content
polishing a .45.

Only black will remain inside a smoldering hole.

JDS

On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> after it disappears.
>
> Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
>
>
> Released
>
> A fly bangs against my window
> its complex eyes piecing together
> winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> and why (must be the thought),
> can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
>
> I opened the window helping escape
> knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> but to remain here, a prisoner,
> would only find him suffering on the sill
> by morning.
>
> Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
>
> I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
>
> Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
>
> JDS

Broken Doll

It lay broken
at the sea's edge,
slight movement
when waves nudged
the torso,
a face all but eaten
by sun and salt.

One shoe floated out
with the tide,
trying to finish
an interrupted voyage
to freedom.

JDS

On Sunday 31 December 2023 at 09:16:44 UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> > It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> > after it disappears.
> >
> > Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
> >
> >
> > Released
> >
> > A fly bangs against my window
> > its complex eyes piecing together
> > winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> > and why (must be the thought),
> > can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
> >
> > I opened the window helping escape
> > knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> > but to remain here, a prisoner,
> > would only find him suffering on the sill
> > by morning.
> >
> > Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
> >
> > I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> > confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
> >
> > Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
> >
> > JDS
> Broken Doll
>
> It lay broken
> at the sea's edge,
> slight movement
> when waves nudged
> the torso,
> a face all but eaten
> by sun and salt.
>
> One shoe floated out
> with the tide,
> trying to finish
> an interrupted voyage
> to freedom.
>
> JDS

On Monday 25 December 2023 at 21:27:46 UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 7:10:53 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> > On Monday, December 25, 2023 at 3:17:27 PM UTC-5, JDS wrote:
> > > It has been an experience here, in this group and I do wish you all goodbye
> > > after it disappears.
> > >
> > > Can't offer much but my past work and will be posting some before the close, on this thread. No need to comment or read, just my poetry as I write it --an acquired taste for sure. Good health, all.
> > >
> > >
> > > Released
> > >
> > > A fly bangs against my window
> > > its complex eyes piecing together
> > > winter trees and drift of snowflakes
> > > and why (must be the thought),
> > > can’t he fly back into that grey sky.
> > >
> > > I opened the window helping escape
> > > knowing winter will most likely kill him --
> > > but to remain here, a prisoner,
> > > would only find him suffering on the sill
> > > by morning.
> > >
> > > Best, I thought, he should have that last flight.
> > >
> > > I also sit looking out at the whitening Evergreen's
> > > confined by winter's visit -- fly-like awaiting release.
> > >
> > > Perhaps spring will bring flight and fresh air.
> > >
> > > JDS
> > ------------------------------------------------------------------------
> >
> > Coney Island Graveyard
> >
> >
> > Whether it was the wind
> > or frantic tide, a shoe-tip poked out
> > from the beach, right there where
> > you could watch the Wonder Wheel
> > spin its neon into the black sky
> > as a shovel bit the sand enough
> > to stuff the date or perhaps just evil
> > thoughts on those that got to close.
> >
> > Soon lights of police cars fought
> > for supremacy with that Wonder Wheel,
> > but one was for laughter, the other
> > for another one gone, as that shoe was attached
> > to an ankle then leg, before uncovered
> > and soon laying out as the town drunk over by the
> > Slip and Slide.
> >
> > So flash bulbs popped and radios squealed
> > their orders of keeping order as the sheet came out
> > and covered another that got too close to the depraved
> > as clowns danced next to the house of horrors
> > before the hot dog stands closed for the night.
> >
> > By next morning, all was raked and ready
> > for a day at the beach, blankets spread as if
> > nothing had happened and folks lined up
> > for that ride into the sky and back,
> > safe for one moment, from the madness.
> >
> > JDS
> -----------------------------
>
>
>
>
> Carnival
>
>
> When can I touch what isn't there --
> reaching for the ring with every
> rotation of merry-go-round
> dreams.
>
> A wooden horse I ride,
> varnished, brilliant colors
> circling, spinning to
> pipe organ sounds.
>
> Dizzying, as faces speed by,
> stuck smiles on strangers,
> a flashbulb, freezing odd
> grins. until I see you.
>
> Can I unhinge my painted stallion,
> swoop you up and gallop off
> to carnivals far away?
>
> Standing rigid in a field of stars,
> we'll look down at the ride that was,
> yearning for the ride to be.
>
> JDS