Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Three Blues on The Delaware

The soul of the world sings in blue, sapphire
Midnight cerulean stone periwinkle Aegean
Egyptian steel, shadow shimmer, silver glint,
Flow tide breeze and sun, musics of smooth
Chaos soft violence restlessness dissolution
Concord mystery beauty revelation change,
My blood singing back to the singing waters.

Furious machines burning anger, fume and
Rage to the choke point, ferocity of sound,
From here all silence and twinkle, sweeping
Slow rise and fall, rust blistered blue towers,
Harp-strung, Buddha serene, light and heavy,
A mountain of stone and steel engineered to
Rise like thought and dance in the delicate air.

Spring has uncorked all her bottles, pours her
Sparkling vintage into the coupe of May with
A liberal hand. Winter’s damp gloom is swept
From the vaulting sea and a convoy of cloud
Blusters at full sail. I will fill my pockets with
Rubies and expectations, book passage on a
Perfect merchantman and trade with heaven.

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Thanks to Philadelphia Stories for publishing Three Blues on The Delaware in the Summer 2016 issue.

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How The Day Began

I dreamed I was young and could sing. My
Voice not this three-note croak but mighty
Sound and how easily my soul soared from
My lips into the vibrant air. Then I woke up
And I was old and had no song, just these
Words, grey dawn and no soft sleep again,
Grief so strong that even I thought the old
Coconut of my heart would split and spill
Its little milk. Outside, the trees in shadow
Were mystery and the traffic noise mystery;
Mystery my hands and mystery my teeth;
Mystery the tasks of the day and mystery
All the days gone in mourning. The radio
Broke into a pitch and I rose to silence it.
Might be a cup of coffee is the fix? And
I heard in my mind my grandmother say
No complaining and my father Find a use.
My mother said Be kind and my wife said
Remember your mother. God said I made
You a soldier who goes to war with himself.
Call Me Son of a Bitch and ask My blessing.

Thanks to the Seminary Ridge Review for publishing this poem in their Spring 2016 issue.

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Haiku Peter Galen Massey The First Refuge of Mediocritythe first refuge of / the mediocre poet / is sincerity

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Acts of the Apostles

I know you’re a preacher from your black coat,
The lady said and I smiled and told her Almost.
To what strange lands might we fly if I spread
My black wings, from what strange texts might
I speak if I took the pulpit? Would I please her
Dancing my exuberant heresies on the Rock of
Ages? Perhaps. Her face said she might take.
My mysteries for faith, my wonders for reasons,
My beauties for redemption. She might grant me
A God who is all whirlwind and no ash heap, who
Suffered so He could say We are the same now.

Or would she ask me What about love dear? and
Smile at my blank look. Love is simple as a child.
You shuffle Her to one side with your words and
Your rules and your thinking. Then I would sweep
Off my preacher’s coat and settle it on the majesty
Of her stooped shoulders.

 

Thanks to the Seminary Ridge Review for publishing this poem in their Spring 2016 issue.

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Star-Scattered Field Haiku Peter Masseya star-scattered field, / the city fades under a / blood orange sunrise

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Haiku 33 Like a Kiss from Hungry Lipsa sip of latte / is as soft and rich as a / kiss from hungry lips

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City Night Stars Haiku Peter Masseythe rushing night clouds / veil and unveil in silence / the city’s cold stars

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