Topic: Poetry

Wakan Tanka Waits For Me 0

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Pixabay

Taking the mother road east
Seemed like a rewind trip
Into the dreams of west bound
Men and ladies who left Chi
Town for Santa Monica; they
Sought the sunny shore to rest.

Sunset at our back door down
Somewhere in Arizona
The passenger trains replaced
By cargo trailers never to stop
At wide clips of towns built only
For fuel or Indian trinkets.

In the distance a tee pee
Settled between branches of
Mesquite or salt cedar brush;
Train cars rushed by to show
A cluster of modern tents
Circled to prevent attack.

“Sleep in a Wigwam” the sign
Urged motorists to stop
Away from the freeway noise
Tucked next to the train whose
Resonant horn warned hostiles
To leave the sleepers alone.

The white dashes coming far
Faster than the midnight
Static of dull hypnotic
Beats pounding a rusty hole
Deep in the driver’s brain
Making kitsch palatable.

We stopped to stay in a
Stucco cone banging our heads
On the slopping walls to peer
Into fun-house mirrors near
Blankets with Wakan Tanka;
Red and black on double beds.

Staring at the tapered top
Of the ceiling seeing stars
Aerial above the black desert night
Musing about ghostly riders
Traveling the mother road
We dream in deep sleep slumber.

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Holbrook Wigwam Motel

Michael S. Sommermeyer

 

The Moment a Heartbeat Shifts Trice 0

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Michael S. Sommermeyer

Snow dusting the crest of Mount Tom,
Patches of orange and brown balm,
Cold air smell of jet metal-cased gneiss,
The moment a heartbeat shifts trice.

Clouds roll over the summit peak,
Dark anger of winter mystique,
A chill of slushy snow and ice,
The moment a heartbeat shifts trice.

Skew angle of silvery rock,
Makes way for a white aftershock,
Of wind breath’s plunging sacrifice,
The moment a heartbeat shifts trice.

Valley awaits the brewing storm,
Sunshine blocked behind veil swarm,
An aversion to inclement vice,
The moment a heartbeat shifts trice.

 

Limericks for my Leprechauns 0

My mother’s family was from Ireland. Although I think she would have a cringed a bit at these limericks. Isn’t a Limerick supposed to be bad?

limericks

Limericks

For My Girl From Texas

There once was a girl from Texas

Who often spoke fondly of her exes,

Tall ones and short ones

Cowboys and oil barons

Too bad they can’t all buy her a Lexus.

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Mule Days

I spied an old mule in a field

Fighting a bee that wouldn’t yield

He bobbed left and right

Shaking with all of his might

If only he had a bee net to wield.

 Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Daoibh

St. Patrick’s Day courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

Knight Approaches Softly 1

Sweet petals tossed on the marble
Broken and torn, they belie gentle dreams
Of failed promise and changed circumstance, the affronted deems

The vase lies shattered, broken, and cracked
A rose flows outward, its leaves bleed red
Thorns of deceit, the relationship dead

St. Valentine’s knight bends prostrate to reach
And seeks to recover the spilled flower breach
Smoothing each petal he positions each flower
Gently arranges each stem to lighten the anger
Erasing the tautness and softening the mood
A song of tenderness gifted, a faith in affection renewed

A flourish, a gesture, a new paramour’s kiss
Sweet release and dark pleasure, our lovers reminisce.

Copyright 2015, Michael S. Sommermeyer. All Rights Reserved.