Tag Archives: Poetry

Don’t Search My Bags

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Don’t search my bags
I don’t know
I don’t know
what is in there
yes I packed
yes I packed my bags

lemme pass
take a chance
lemme pass
I’m in a hurry
to move on
I’m movin’ on

I’m dyin’
yes I am
but not a drug
for this man
just need a wave and a nod
to get me goin’ on

do you really wanna see
all the baggage in the bag
all the crap
that I have
and listen to my story
of how I got what I packed?

ain’t got the time
or the tissue
or the drops for the eyes
threw away
all the tears
‘cause I knew they had to go

where I go is where I go
do you really wanna know?
if you’d seen where I’d been
you’d zip it up again
and let me through
and let me through

here it is
see it all
do you wanna hold me?
grab my wrist
check your list
did you miss
anything
anything at all?

what I say is who I am and
what I am is what you’d say
is a mess of a man
with a bundle in his bag.
not a threat
just a mess

did we really need to check it?

Dodgeballery

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(A sensical poem inspired by Jabberwocky)

‘Twas bleak and my slimy foes
Did gain throughout the game
So flimsy were my teammates’ throws
At last, only I remained.

“Beware the dodgeballs and run!
Don’t lose your fight and make the catch!
Watch out for Eric Anderson—
He’ll try to finish out the match!”

I took the red ball in hand
One against five I fought.
And while my ousted teammates cheered
One—two—three balls I caught.

One against two is how it stood
And Anderson with eyes of flame
Came charging over the shiny wood
And snarled, hissed, and aimed.

One-two, one-two I ducked and threw—
My red ball made a smack.
I had hit his head so hard and firm
He landed squarely on his back.

Finally, it was one on one
And my teammates cheered with joy:
“Way to play!  Hooray Hooray!
You’re the miracle dodgeball boy”

‘Twas bleak yet my slimy foes
Did fall before my aim.
But so flimsy was my final throw
It was caught —I’d lost the game.

A Contemplation on Daniel Lee’s Nightlife

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Click the picture to visit Daniel Lee’s website

NIGHTLIFE

She sits on a table at the far end of the bar,

legs crossed,

her feline eyes—passively sympathetic—pouring into mine,

while the fuse between her fingertips expires.

Only she finds me,

me, the animal trapped on the other side of the divide,

awaiting slaughter

While they avoid my eyes.

They with their cocktails and coffees

            the bear with a tigress in his lap

(he, protecting? or she, shielding?)

the monkey in the middle

impassioned in a terror that never presses too close

the boorish man,

watching my passing as if it were a 30-second ad

the long-faced lady in the red gown

Banished from the ball for pulling her own carriage

the sexy snake seducing her mirror,

Yes, the whore,

the horrified, the perverted

all watching something I cannot see

except she

in the green

at the end,

helpless,

yet watching me

in the end.

Hail Mary Holy Day

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A Sunday score

  strangers rise en masse

  pulled from their seats

  agape in spontaneous inspiration

  connecting hands

  celebrating

  with devoted fervor

  idols of the gridiron

–

A communal moment

  a moment divine

  a glorious time

  with a singular purpose

  resolute and unquestioned

–

And God

  the distant spectator

  always on one side

  or the other

  depending on who wins