top of page
Writer's pictureEditor's Desk

POEMS by John Grey

A CAR ON THE SOUTH SIDE

 

Working my way backwards,

it begins with a few shards of window glass

missed by the cleanup crew,

and then there’s the blood-soaked car

being towed away

with just a couple of curious kids

for an audience

followed by a dissipating crowd

and a couple of EMT folks

bearing off two bodies on stretchers,

as the mob look onand cops stand by

which leads to sirens approaching

from all directions

and people rushing out of their apartments

trailed by the gunshots that,

this time, are way too close

and finally, two more guys

in another car,

rolling up their windows,

stowing their hot-muzzled weapons

in their belts,

leaving the scene of the crime

just before they arrive

revolvers raised and ready.

 

A SUMMER SOLO



 

A hot summer morning

reminds me of how shuttered I am

in this stuffy room,

as sunlight stretches in bars

across the floor

but leaves the bed in darkness.

 

On a day made for going outside,

staying in

is the ultimate in loneliness.

 

The ones already in their cars,

and headed for the beach

get where they are without thinking.

 

But I am caged by my imagination,

taken prisoner by a willful head

and a vulnerable heart.

 

I am the perfect candidate

for seeing this day to its end

without speaking to another soul.

 

From an early age.

I’ve been resigned to being

a stranger in a world of strangers,

with a feeling that friendship

is no more pretense,

and company is just an opportunity

to speak to somebody

who is not listening.

 

Yes, I’ve been kissed.

I’ve been hugged.

It made me wonder who was doing it.

And why.

Even who they were doing it to.

 

ALONE


 

There is a solitude in this world.

It is called a dying man.

And it exists as a counterpoint to the living

who are gathered by the bed.

 

There is a loneliness of mattress,

sheets, pillow and blanket.

It is a floating ship

in which he is the only passenger.

 

And there’s an inevitability

that shields him from all human contact.

It’s a train, abandoned by all but him,

that is on course for a tunnel.

 

Even the mourners

succumb to sorrow’s isolation..

They came in together.

Now each of them is with no one.

 

HOW WE MET


 

Petal fallen from a flower

moves on its own,

is changed,

attaches to me,

so I too can feel

part of its blossom.

 

Now sun has set,

the rules of light

no longer apply,

yet it is the part of me

that is not dark,

curls up.

trembles a little,

but if I let it loosen,

it grips tight to me

all the more.


 

 

 

4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page