14 October 2013

I Know It Was You, Fredo!

You broke my heart, as brothers sometimes do,
and look at you, you're pathetic. A simpering,
whimpering Don Juan-a-be. Bimbos and markers,
donkey shows and Johnny Ola have taken their toll.
I had control of the five families and there
our similarities took a decided turn. If you'd only learn,
"Never take sides with anyone against the family again!"
You're nothing to me now. You're not a brother, not a friend.
If anything in this life is certain, if history has taught us anything, 
it is that you can kill anyone. Pray for the fishes,
you'll be sleeping with them now!

© JPW - 2013

dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics Italian-Style 

Poets United - Poetry Pantry #171


10 October 2013

Picture Albom

So, I love his sentimentality,
it's a reality with which I deal daily.
Many losses and defections,
derelictions and deflections
bring some regrets. But you can bet
the pitch that Mitch proffers,
offers some food for hungry thought.
I ought to grip bootstraps and pull,
but you'll never see me flee what to me
are precious memories; sentimentalities. 
Who would be my Morrie?
Which five people would fill my afterlife dance card?
What would one day more portend?
How can I pretend to have a little faith
when people never stick around long enough
to show the possibilities; memories, sentimentalities?
I can envision my life through these tender vignettes,
it gets me misty to look through this picture book,
this photo Albom of my arrival. In all,
it aids in my survival, these sentimentalities.
These are memories of my realities.

© JPW - 2013

POETS UNITED - Verse First: Writers Are Lovers

09 October 2013

Having Direction

The walk of life.
A rocky road full 
of potholes and pitfalls
causing stumbles and pratfalls.

Your destination is clear.
You can't see it from here,
but at the end of that road
lies the end of the road.

Did you love?
Fully; unconditionally?
There is no price on love,
but its value is infinite.

Yet, we give love away.
That is to say the more we dispatch,
the more we receive, and do not believe
the blessings you bestow on others

do not flow back to you.
It is true. Love is the compass 
of all journeys. If you foster love
and give love, you're well on your way.

Love gives you direction.
Follow it!

© JPW - 2013


dVerse - Poets Pub : Meeting the Bar: The Beat Poets and their Poetry

03 October 2013

There's Always an Ass on the Road

(Photo courtesy of Wikicommons)

It never fails.
You’re riding on rails
sailing down the road
in a trail of dust that you must be
breaking the sound barrier -
a miles harrier. Then you see it.
Could it be what you’re thinking?
Your eyes start blinking and it sinks in.
There’s an ass on the road. There’s ALWAYS
an ass on the road. Idiots come up quickly behind you
to sickly remind you that you’re in the way.
But an ass on the road makes you frown,
they’re only there to slow you down.
It never fails. It’ll haw and bray and hold you up
all day. There’s always an ass on the road.

© JPW – 2013

02 October 2013

Storm Front Warning

He never saw it. 
Coming over the hill,  the storm
was wreaking havoc. 
Visibility diminished.
Before it was finished
it left destruction in its wake.
That was all he could make.

That was all.
He could make it leave
destruction in its wake
before it was finished.
Visibility was diminished 
wreaking havoc over the hill.
The storm? He never saw it coming.

(C) JPW - 2013

He Said. She Said

He said, “Good Morning! A lovely day isn’t it?”
She said nothing and smiled.
He said, “ I hope you’re feeling better today!”
She said, “I’d be doing much better if you’d stop talking to me!”
He said “Fine!” and walked away

Days passed, sight unseen
and it had been
as long since they “talked”
as long as he’d walked.

The phone rang!

He said, “Hello.” He knew who it could be when
She said, “I’ve been thinking!”
He said he felt like he had been drinking
She said, “ I have this sinking feeling I’m falling!”
He said he knew there was a reason she was calling!

He said, “I noticed your number. You’ve been calling…”
She said to herself, “He’s stalling”
He admitted saying, “I’m stalling. I’m not sure…”
She said, “I’m sorry I bothered you!’
He said “Fine!” put the phone away.

Weeks passed, sound unheard
And it had been
So absurd when they “talked”
As long as he’d balked.

The phone rang!

He said, “Hello?” He wasn’t sure she would call back,
She said, “Look I admitted my feelings…” her head was reeling,
He said, stealing her thunder, “Don’t you wonder what I was going to say?”
She said, “When, the other day when I went away? Yes” she said  to her dismay!
He said by the way, “I’m not sure… but I think I’m falling too!”

Minutes passed, he was gassed
And it had been two miles
He had run to see her smile.
It was the longest while.

The doorbell rang!

She said, “What do YOU want?
He said “We were falling…”
She said “I feel sick again. It appears I was calling…”
He said sadly, “…the wrong number?”
She said, “Yes. But I guess since you’re already here, d’you have time for a beer?”

The bottle was passed, they were gassed
It seems they had a good time
And it cost not a dime.
Now they meet every Tuesday, same time!

Wedding Bells ring?

© JPW – 2013

01 October 2013

Misted Mindset

it was a quiet hillside; he considered it
a place of worship where ghosts gathered
to swarm the edges of the bog like a hasty fog
the exact consistency of a pea green slurry.
patches of  clarity would spill unbidden
into sharp and defined visions. he saw what
he wanted to see. nothing more

© JPW – 2013

The SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle #128

Smells Like Teen Flannel

Messing with my grunge.
Hard edged music has no place
surfaced in flannel.
But I love
the warmth;
the comfort, but something’s not right!
I stay up half the night
writing songs. Is it wrong to fill
“Love songs” with bitter angst, while
plaid and staid flannel is against my skin?
How can I win? Find nirvana?
Do I wanna? Can Cobain be channeled
sans the flannel? I can’t tell
but it sure smells like it!

© JPW – 2013

Margo Roby: Wordgathering - Poem Tryouts: Flannel Me This