|
The Vigil
At first I didn't know you'd gone.
Warmed by the fire
Waiting for the sound outside
That would distinguish
Your footsteps from the rain.
And time passed slowly.
I fed the fire and wondered
Where you could have wandered,
That kept you away for so long
What was at first a certainty
Became a vigil.
Dissipating in the cold light of many dawns
I let the fire wane,
Observing the ritual of the last dying ember.
Took one last look around
Closed the door softly behind me,
Bundled myself against the cold
And, without looking back,
Started down the road.
Email Tracy
Top of Page -
Poetry Page -
Callahan's Saloon
Tales of an Engineer and His Friend
My good, but slightly slow witted friend was driving along one day.
The car was racing real fast, then he saw to his dismay,
He was rapidly running out of road, a curb was in the way.
He took his foot off the gas 'cause he thought his car would stop.
Well, needless to say, his car hit the curb and is now in the shop.
I visited him in the hospital and told him the cause of it all:
Momentum is conserved my friend, no outside force perturbed.
The reason your car hit the curb was 'cause momentum was conserved.
So then he went to take up flying, and I asked him how it felt.
He said it was great, but he didn't hesitate to tighten up his
seatbelt.
He asked me how it was that planes could fly and stay in the air.
When he couldn't even lift the plane himself
(He tried, and is now confined to a wheelchair,)
Strained his back for a bit, but he'll be okay.
I said, "Forces were in equilibrium, even though you really
can't
See 'em. Air rushing past the wings creates lift, counteracting
gravity, but then you get drag, but that's counteracted by
thrust.."
Enough! he cried okay!
I'll take that fluid mechanics class,
Just spare me the details today.
Me 221 at GWU said I, as I merrily walked away.
Email Ray
Top of Page -
Poetry Page -
Callahan's Saloon
A Winter Night's Dream
Soft, dreamy, winter night
Never ending.
White, fluffy snow covers all
And gently floats down to encrust
While flowers die
And pine trees glimmer
In the pale winter sun.
I wander through this wilderness,
Landscapes unfamiliar
I lose myself
And find a new me.
Quiet and contemplating
Yet quick and cunning
I slip from tree to tree
Hardly leaving footprints
In the new fallen snow.
Delighting in my new self
And then I come upon a cabin
I open the door, and then close it
With a click.
I go to the roaring fire
And bask in its warmth.
But the heat
Brings back the old me
And I am a domestic beast
Tamed by civilization
The Wild One in me has died
Again.
Email Melody
Top of Page -
Poetry Page -
Callahan's Saloon
Better
Work out at the gym,
And speak of your technique.
Brag of your great prowess,
That you're at a sexual peak.
Read the Kama Sutra,
Shape each fingernail,
Prepare for all night session,
Take notes to tell the tale.
Tell us of their beauty,
They want you night and day.
Tell us of their numbers,
Lined up just to play.
Prepare yourself as you must,
Do what your plan requires,
But nobody does it better
Than the one whom love desires.
Email Lou
Top of Page -
Poetry Page -
Callahan's Saloon
Untitled
The gods turned their backs and the children died
In the streets among bullets, under bombs from the sky
Beside furnaces burning as parents stood by
And the gods laughed like gods at the children's small cry.
In darkness they died, alone in a cell
In a home that is fed from a poisonous well
Destroyed, discarded, forgotten.
No soul left to tell
of the pain to these glorious gods in their hell.
Yet, the children walked on. The children grew tall.
Yet no shadow they cast in your street or your hall
You don't see them, don't hear them or notice their call.
Condemned by the gods, no one eases their fall.
But then they meet - one by one - and each other they hold
By the hand, in the heart, with a smile from the soul.
And behold !
Laughter rings forth. Life overflows.
Risen from death like the Phoenix of old
They are the most beautiful sight to behold.
And they called all the children of the night and the cold.
"Here is strength, here is life, here is hope for the taking.
Be bold !"
Email Oktavia
Top of Page -
Occasional Poetry
Poetry Page -
Callahan's Saloon
|
