Poems for Reyn

Oh fair maiden, 

holding secrets unknown,

tucking away the hurts

that caused the flaming outbursts 

that put you in this prison tower,

taking  your sense of self 

and any power 

you might have known 

if left alone, 

holding secrets unknown. 

Oh fair maiden, 

where have you gone?

With wings clipped 

you are not allowed 

to express fully

who you are. 

In your moments of passion, 

on the outer edge

of free spirited, 

THEY decide 

you need reining in, 

without even beginning 

to hear your side 

of the story. 

And so, 

locked down, 

you comply-- 

at least for a time 

of “oh well,”

and let it go. 

I sit 

on the outside 

and wonder how 

an opportunity 

for connectedness 

and creativity 

and goodness 

got lost, 

and wonder where 

the anger went. 

© Anne Cressin, 2011

Tower of London; photo from Wikipedia Commons, by CherryX

The Corner of Second and Ho

Rounding past the meadow, east of the lake,

Agony exuberant shouts for all on the make.

Rises up the intersection where all the damned go,

For here's Hell's Hell at the corner of Second & Ho.

In one corner, poor Deek struts in fashion threadbare.

His eyes see nothing, just horizon-less despair.

"I will always be with you, I will don't you know"

Intones this broke man on the corner of Second & Ho.

Across the way, Hungry Willie lazes on a lawn chair alone.

Belly extended, guzzling booze as he gnaws a leg bone.

Reaching for coke below the awning of Wings-to-Go

He rasps, "But no one can fly from the corner of Second & Ho.”

First Class fingers the cars as they speed their merry way,

But what fear motors their hearts, no one will say.

As he pees on a pole, First Class teases those in the know

"Change’s coming at last" to the corner of Second & Ho.

Gomer hears this snide taunt and finds strength (from above?)

Out of the chop shop, she staggers into the street preaching love.

The yos & hos freeze at her words, both the high & the low

Then rush to embrace - GRACE - by the corner of Second & Ho.

As they move off the curbs, a family wagon stops in its tracks.

Windows roll up, locks snap into place, pale faces draw back.

Blessed Gomer staggers back among the meek, life's sad undertow,

Sweeping away all hope on down the corner of Second & Ho.

                                        

As the crowd departs, she snarls "Cracker" at that blue-eyed fool.

The Chevy drives on, darkness returns, again the bleary-eyed drool.

"The first may go first, but the last shall last forever and ever mo'"

Murmurs Gomer to herself athwart the corner of Second & Ho.

© Byron Harris, 2011

At the corner; photo by Tony Russell