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Month: October 2015

At the Great German University

At the Great German University*

 

When professor at the great
German University, I’ll walk
the broad halls like a God,
be greeted with “Herr Professor”
(answer with gentle nods)
and not give a damn about
the clothes I choose to wear.

I’d wear the same wide corduroys
let them wrinkle and soil:
stains in the faculty dining hall
smears from tears of acolytes.
After a year or so I’d hope they’d
learn to rise up on their own fumes,
begin to teach for me in my stead.

 

 

Poet’s Notes ####

I actually gained (free!) admission to study in the German university system in 1995 after taking a written and oral exam.
I took a 6-week long exam prep course, but had never taken a course in German (I lived in country for over 2 years by then).

####

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(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))

The image of the initial draft can be seen here:

At the Great German University

 

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Ghetto

Ghetto

The ghetto is not the unsafe streets,
strings of crazed graffiti, broken glass,
ramshackle homes long abandoned,
dull gazes of the homeless following
sounds of echoing police sirens.

The ghetto is bound within the minds
of those who tend to wall themselves off,
examine every conscience before their own,
curse innocence with phantasms of ignorance.
The ghetto dwells deep within ourselves.


Poet’s Notes ####

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))

The image of the initial draft can be seen here:

Ghetto

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The Goldfish

The Goldfish

 

It has come to the end of the night
and I am tired, but not overly.
Some progress today, but overall
there is some deeper disturbance.
The goldfish finning up silt
with its tail, darkening the bowl.

How can I sleep when dreams
are shaped in such a foul haze?
And if I stay up, I cheat sleep,
and no reassurance of solving this.
So I swim and swim and swim
about clouding my dazed night,
giving body to my doubts.

 

Poet’s Notes ####

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))

The image of the initial draft can be seen here:

The Goldfish

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At the Business Conference

At the Business Conference*

for Appleseed

 

The deer in the headlights
Drank from a firehose
At the end of the day:
It was a win-win situation.

Inside the business conference
they peered out the windows,
were momentarily speechless.
They’d never seen anything like it.

Someone asked What is it?
A janitor said It was a deer
in the headlights, drinking…
They thought he was mocking them.

He left the room, shaking his head,
muttering You can’t make this stuff up.

 

Poet’s Notes ####

* There are cliches common to every profession; this poem lists 4 of the most common to American business in the first stanza.

I welcome my mother, Eileen T. Kennedy, to this list. I’m her 9th son and 11th child — one of 13 children. She watched me play every football game in high school and even attended a (very cheesy) play for which I had a minor role in at college.  Thanks Mom!

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))

The image of the initial draft can be seen here:

At the Business Conference

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At Gaskins

At Gaskins*

He arrived at the restaurant
clutching something
like an exquisite handbag,
asked for a table for one.

The hostess scanned the room,
six and eight-tops and many
tables of four, full. She smiled
as if to say, not really, sir.

But she offered a hand,
led him through the din.
Some remarked at his beard
and clothes, how literary.

And when he sat down
he drank his beer before
soup and didn’t look up.
He looked into the object

Cupped in his artful hand:
a dear antique portrait
a long ago love lost at war
or some terrible accident?

He yawned, looked to the
ceiling and back to his hand,
its numinosity to be
revered by the enlightened.

 

Poet’s Notes ####

*A restaurant in Germantown, NY.

If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment below!
(I won’t delete rude comments, I’ll just reuse them in a poem — with attribution. ;-))

The image of the initial draft can be seen here:

At Gaskins

 

 

 

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