New Mown Lawn
New mown
New moon
New moan
On a new lawn
Under a new moon
I knew you
You moaned
As we lay
On the
New moan lawn
poem by Allan Thorne
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Innocence Died With the Coming of Spring
The snow fell all night
In the morning
The world was transformed
Into a vision of purity.
Six months later
The weather warmed.
The snow melted
Revealing six months
Accumulation of dog turds
Perfectly preserved
And just as fresh
As the day they were laid.
These things can twist a
Young mind
They put the zap on mine
Fifty years latter
I cannot contemplate
Purity without
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poem by Allan Thorne
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Sleeping With Cats, Or Trying To
From 'Dating at Fifty' a collection of poems about the quest for love in middle age
Trying to sleep with cats,
Cats not content to use their box discretely
But compelled by strange ambition
To dig to China after each smelly deposit.
Trying to sleep in blankets
Full of cat litter
Tracked in by the cats.
Trying to sleep with cats, not content
To sleep or read or wait quietly for the dawn
But driven to actively stalk
The largely fictitious wildlife
Of a two room apartments.
Trying to sleep with a new woman
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poem by Allan Thorne
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Evesdropping
We sit outside
Overlooking the lake,
And the suburbs across the lake,
As the sun turns everything golden
Waiting for our ernest young waiter
To bring us our dinner.
At the table behind me is a father
And his teenage son.
This moment of intimacy
between father and son
Is what my son
With his anger
Has denied me
I think bitterly.
The son is telling his father
About a girl
He loves but who,
Even though she likes him,
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poem by Allan Thorne
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Life Lesson At the Lone Pine Saloon
One night
I watched a pool shark
Take this guy’s entire paycheck
One game at a time
Over the course of
A long evening.
A pool shark will never
Beat you by more than a ball or two.
He doesn’t want to kill your hope.
He wants you to keep playing.
He wants you to think that it was all luck
Next time things will be different.
He wants you to double the bet
And try again.
By the end the looser
Was very drunk
And lacking any money to go on
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poem by Allan Thorne
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The Screaming of The Corn
The summer was long
The summer was hot
The summer was dry
Days passed with
Not a cloud in the sky
And we had to water.
Everything that didn’t get water died.
The lawn dried up and blew away.
But the tomatoes grew and grew
And gave wave after wave
Of ruby red fruit.
We ate tomatoes until our gums were sore
Than gave the rest away
Only to find,
come morning yet more.
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poem by Allan Thorne
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