Moth

How is it that a small moth

flying around my desk lamp
Can be so distracting
one moment

that when I push it of course

And how is it
that when it is finally gone
I feel a small loss

but still a loss

Poem of War

jr paruolo
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Only the dead have seen the end of the war. - Plato
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It was a poem
of war

A dead zone
of words

twisted like strands
of barbed wire

across
no man's land

It was a poem
of war

with the shrapnel
of shattered sentences

embedded
into every page

It was a poem
of war

printed in blood
instead of ink

It was a poem
of war

A place from which
No one came home

It was a poem
of war

Written
by the dead

It was a poem
of war

a poem the living
never read

You Wrote One Perfect Poem

You wrote one perfect poem
Using rain instead of words
To ensure that your voice
would always be heard

You wrote one perfect poem
In a place hard as stone
So it would never decay
So I would never be alone

The Old Man in the Attic

The old man in the attic
is a little eccentric -
The clock in his mind
Doesn't keep the right time

And when seen out in public
He seems perfectly fine
But he's lost half his wits
And his memory's declined

To the point where the light
in his head has gone dim
That it almost feels like
Someone else has moved in

And you'll hear him say -
It gets harder each day -
To remember that today
Is today and not yesterday

And as for Tomorrow -
It's just a dark shadow
that sits on the horizon
and blocks out the sun.

The One Eared Race

There’s a town close to here
where everyone’s born
with only one ear -
And everyone hears
Only Half of what's said
(especially if directed
To the earless side of the head)

It's a problem, indeed.
The mayor declared
Ears should come in pairs
As he spoke to the folks
that filled the town square:
And those that heard him agreed;
And those that didn't just stared.

So he formed a committee
That met for two weeks,
That drank gallons of coffee
And went without sleep
but in spite of their efforts
had nothing new to report

So when the Mayor spoke
To the gathered town folk
He apologetically said:
We're sorry to say
We still have no idea -
We could find no way
To resolve the lack ears
on both sides of our heads.

And with nothing more to to say
They watched the Mayor
trudge wearily away
With the Committee in tow
To their awaiting pillows
And soft feather beds
To enjoy a good snore.
For the rest of the day.

"Wait, there is one solution,"
Quipped a small boy of ten,
"Simply turn your head,
The side with the ear,
In the speaker's direction
And you'll hear loud and clear
Every word that is said."

So they gave it a try
and were pleasantly surprised -
And all now agree, or mostly all do,
That this simple technique
Of just turning one's cheek
Makes one ear as useful as two.

For in good conversation
Is not only how well you speak
But it’s also how well you listen
(So, just turn your cheek)