Halloween
I see in a mirror these macabre eyes
My face grown as a monster's mask:
sharp teeth, frazzled hair, maniacal look of deadly rampage
Oh, save me from what is inside of me
Defective reflection from far away
Monster in the mirror say I am fairest of them all
Despair of me no more, as the hair grows wildly, long on human skin
Werewolf song I commence under full moon light
Sharpened fangs ready to bite: Trick or Treat
Halloween, and another lousy Tootsie Roll to eat

Friend
I awoke with no sense of place,
no sense of wonder
I desperately tried to find solace in a returning sleep,
but a dreamless morning was no friend
Confused, a somnambulist enemy I became: of myself,
of this place, of this wonderless world

Thursday Think Tank Prompt--Poets United

Long Walk
After the rain I walk on old train tracks
the air is damp, my breath is deep
cedars glisten in the gray sky
Along these tracks I feel no fear
the old trains stopped long ago

The Coast
Two A.M.
A last saloon nearly closed
On a curb a woman sits, head in her hands
Softly she says:
My boy is on the coast,
lost to drugs,
A bartender turns away and locks the saloon doors
The glass shakes against the wind

SC: I wrote these two poems a number of weeks ago. I made a couple of revisions to the second poem, and it fits the theme.

Arms
I'll stand in the shadow of bright lights
Move my hands, swing my arms, sing a song as loud as I can
I'm free, hidden behind this summer brightness
But the darkness ebbs slowly
Then autumn comes
I'll Fall till I sing once more, rise up I will
Freedom keeps time to these swinging arms

Lament
I was bad once, long ago
In a way I wont say
Just that once badness was my name
People were hurt, really one woman
Her heart got broke like a country song
They say being bad is a young man's game, even played once
But thinking of her is an older man's lament

Awake
I awake into darkness
The lamp's light shuddering my reluctant eye
Like a rusted man, joints tired, I dress in worker's clothes
My belly only full with toasted bread I walk into the chill of blackness,
A courage rises as a hard step
But by midday the fight is gone, my dreams returning to a bed's desire

Young
Years ago, when i was young,
i had a big lazy grin
It was fun, dreaming, smoking weed in the park
i hear the laughter sometimes of my old friends
Talking like a summer breeze, when time will come, when we are men
lovers of life, of women, of ourselves with lazy grin
Now I am old,
When I see these youth, I warn them to waste know years,
don't be like me, but mostly I wish i were them

What?
What do I need to do?
Slam shut the poem?
Lock it tightly so no verse escapes into me?
Is there purpose to fight such things?
Let it be what it is, perhaps
the words as the answer, the question revealed as a strange vastness

Lines
There's a highway coursing through my veins
It drives me crazy on mad days, I ride too fast; out of control
The peace inside is the slowing down,
The stopping gentle in between broken lines
A valley in the night is where I'll hide
Along a soft shoulder I'll step aside

The Walk
I waited in a hospital waiting room
A wounded man walked by
He ambled with a cane, his overcoat was tattered, torn on the sleeves
There was no grimace in his face, nor pain in his eyes
He walked in pride, I supposed
I waited some more and went home, my watching people done for the day

The Dig
I put my back into my work
A shovel dug difficult into the frosty earth
Soon the winter will come, the boss says
The work will be done, the back will rest
The spring will warm my skin, my fresh hands will hurt again

Rain
Late at night, the window pulled down
I drove my father's car
October wind was cool on that country road,
the leaves had fallen, a young hand brushes autumn rain
Bruce Springsteen was on, like a heart alone: I'm on Fire
I sang and thundered some more, a father's son at home

The Hope
If your hand was untied
And I was like you, we'd be lovers, perhaps
Maybe married in the glory of our single days
All in hope are your dancing eyes, like untied hands
Follow us as we slip away

Again (For Poetry Pantry)
I've been hobbled at times
Walked with twisted limbs, tripped on unmended soles
I've been hampered on days with the weight of worry,
bending my spirit like trees in winter wind
This snow lays cold when a weakness comes
Then I feel deeply as I struggle to the waiting Spring,
When I am fiery, strong again

Darkness
I knew a man who held up the night
From the blackness he took with evil hand: the stars, the moon, a cosmic ray
As a stealthily morning rose he stole from the great sky, our only sun
After then, a darkness came

2 Poems for Poets United Prompt

Blue I
I dived into dark water
Swam down as far as I could go
Touched the muddy sea ground
Then rose
My airless lungs, my feet beating furious
I made it to the surface, my breath fulfilled
The sun was warm
It was good to see the sky deep and blue

Blue II
I lay in waiting
Cold Comfort eases no pain
I sleep sometimes in an old Square Corner
My stomach any empty growl
Starve me
Take all that is mine
This life sustained
An imagination as All
Like a rising heaven,
clouds turn from a Blue poet's sky

SC: These are a couple of Blue poems from the Square Corner archive. I'd forgotten I wrote them, so it was if I was reading them for the first time. A couple of minor edits, and they are new again

Young, No Time to Listen
I watch a You Tube Video
A white wall, a folk singer dressed in black, leaning against time
The 70s like the song strumming so long ago
Why do I listen sadly when the words grow old?
When those days were never mine?

3am
The man next door, I don't know his name
He smokes in the apartment stairwell at 3am
Sits on a step, alone
leaves ashes and burnt cigarettes behind
I don't report him to the landlord, though I don't like smoking,
nor stairs with tobacco's remains
But a man who smokes at 3am deserves his peace, I conclude
And his clouds of aloneness are gone by the early morn'

Cross
I am a confused eye
One clear
The other cloudy, blurry, out of focus perpetually and forlorn
One eye is good resolution,
the other double crosses me all the time

Sun
When a poet casts a shadow,
It's a story blocking a light
Its words resting easy by the humble shade
The breathless verse kneeling darkly under a fitful sun
The poet that casts a shadow is like a cool brook, an autumn breeze
It's a Square Corner, I think; in vanity, perhaps
No matter, a narrow shade blocks the light

Perfect Body
What is a Poem?
A poem is an infomercial
The TV on, in the background they cry:
"Ladies, own perfect thighs!"
"Guys, walk the strongman walk!"
A poem is:
Buns of steel
Six-Pack Abs
A poem is:
Women in gorgeous bodies
Men chiseled and strong
Feel the burn, measure the waist
What is a Poem?
An infomercial, as you know: Just easy payments of $19.99

The Journey
I used to have a face
My eyes,
ears,
nose are still there
I smile easily, most times
but my face is gone
Left me in the night, painlessly like a snake's skin
But nothing remains
Someone took it, interloper stole it and wears it as mine?
I can't say for sure
My eyes,
ears,
nose and easy smile will march with torches burning
Search for my face like intrepid souls
Hopeless case? Perhaps
But if I find my clown's face, I say: "You left the best of me behind".

Complain
The faucet leaks:
Drip, Drip,
Like a bad dream
Reminds me oddly of the autumn wind, the rain, the cold morning in chilly time
Drip, Drip,
The autumn storm has come inside, to haunt me, I fear
Awake! I say and fight the storm, a timeless drop
But no, I'll torture myself some more
Await the chilly morn'
Adorn the woolly cloth
Complain to no one, the secret well concealed
My thoughts like that leaky dream: Drip! Drip! inside my head

Calm
I looked into a mirror, my hair had grown Old
Streaks of white like longish ghosts haunt me as songs of time
Those years past spent on a doldrums sea
Avoidance, gaps in terminable days, the delirium of youth
Supplanted by What?
The answer in growing old
Replaced by calm? At peace with this roiling world?
Someday they will come. The mocking time. The longish ghosts