The glow in the fog and mist
The spectral glow of a bobbing lantern
As if tossed upon a stormy sea
Appearing..then fading anon, absorbed
In foggy essence, to fade again so feebly
Once more, ere sinking in finality
Into the quicksand of mist
Mere glow of candle, so dear to see
Seen now…then not, …with capricious twist
The spectral light, drifts through the night
As a ghost through fog and mist
Through ribs of rain, the tremulous light
Chills the brain, befogs the sight
Dimly lit, by lanterns in the mist
Dark clouds upon the soul this night
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poem by David Whalen
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Sleeping together
Sleeping together, yet being alone
This soliloquy has nothing to do with sex
It’s more ramblings, about cuddling, and just lying unconscious
And about intimacy, about sharing morning breath.
It’s about spooning, hugging, sharing the covers
And most of us have these nighttime pleasures to own
While many others, and I’m sure there are many
Are sleeping together, yet being alone.
Sleeping together is a thing based in the primeval
In the litter, in the nest, in the pack
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poem by David Whalen
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Concentric
Pebble tossed into waters deep
Ripples awakened… from gentle sleep
Concentric rings of force in search
Of mossy banks ‘gainst which to lurch
And said stone sinks deep…deep
To mossy floor…watched by perch
…then seen no more…
Small rock I tossed, wraps silt around
Then snuggles deep into muddy ground
And sudden silence, not a peep!
It calmly falls into stony sleep
On mossy floor…in water deep
To visions of rapids and craggy shore
Watched by tadpoles
…then seen no more…
Pebble tossed into waters dank
By chance and fate, and cosmos swept
At random picked from rocky bank
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poem by David Whalen
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Have You the Will
Have you the will…
To do nothing?
Have you the courage
To let Nature take it’s course?
Have you the freedom
Of just letting things happen
Of giving free rein
To fickle fate’s force?
That oftimes, the act
Of doing nothing…
Is the quintessential essence
Of what one should do?
And is the essential art in
The knowing when to do nothing
Can only be parsed out
By you?
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poem by David Whalen
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Why Poets?
When a poem is read
A reader's home is entered
Where dwells a kindred spirit
You laugh…you cry
You groan and you sigh
You feel and taste and hear it
We bring tears to eyes
Smiles to lips…
Memories to mind
We make you think
With pen and ink
And open minds once blind
That music is a source of joy
Of that, of course there is
No doubt
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poem by David Whalen
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Improvisurrealism
Dawn's light…bone white
a sky seeming void
of all color
Breath fogging into the air
Wasted bodies and tormented faces
Ice blue eyes
And sharp glacial glare
Highlights in shadow
Bright as cold chrome
Faces round and cratered
Like the moon
Skies skewered
By skeins of blackbirds
Crazed cry… in the dark…
Of a loon
Walls discolored
By exhalations and memories
Memories thought to be
Safely hidden behind
Rheumy, tinted eyes
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poem by David Whalen
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Beyond Belief
“You’ll never believe, what it is that I see”
Said the old man just before he died
He squeezed my hand tightly, as he whispered lightly
And he pulled me down to his side
“I wouldn’t have believed, ” he said with a sigh
As I put my ear close to his lips
His dim eyes brightened, as his hand slowly rose
he pointed into space with thin fingertips
“It’s not…not at all, what you’d think it to be, ”
He whispered, as his hand… slowly fell to the bed
“We were wrong, all of us wrong, It goes on you see! ”
Barely audible now, slowly lowered his head
I put my hand on his brow, my cheek against his… tenderly
I could sense the ebb of his final tide
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poem by David Whalen
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I Pod Therapy (thank God for my I Pod)
I Pod Therapy (thank God for my I Pod)
Sweaty pillow, overfull bladder
Three A.M., wide awake,
what’s the matter?
Get up, stumble there, Fumble back to bed
Concerns climb right in with me.
Worries fill my head.
Sleep has stolen away and left a deafening stillness
An insidious, common, debilitating
yet non-existent illness.
In the past I suffered, tossed and turned.
Suffered supremely, that is,
Until I learned
Now I languidly listen, as fine literature to me is read
And Morpheus slowly slips in beside me
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poem by David Whalen
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praise the Lord (and lil' mangie)
Praise the Lord!
I’ve got a lil' dog with a bad case of mange
And here’s where my story starts getting strange
Had the ‘lil mangy dude out for a walk
When two Hispanic women started to gawk
They gave ‘lil mangy dude a long onceover
Saw in his mottled hide the face of Jehovah
Declared ‘lil mangy dude a sign from the lord
While ‘lil mangy and I thought they were out of their gourd
They followed me home and set up a shrine
Pretty soon the faithful started formin’ a line
I was set to go out and start kickin’ some ass
Until I noticed the money lying in the grass
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poem by David Whalen
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Christmas At The Pearly Gates
Three men die on Christmas day
And then arrive at the pearly gates
St Peter starts to turn them away
Since his records say they’re reprobates
But since it was Christmas …well
He might let them in
If they had any symbol
of Christmas with them
The first had an ornament in his pocket
St Peter ushered him in
The second had pine needles on his shirt
St Peter bade him within
The third gentleman with a look of chagrin
Pulled out a pair of panties of green and red
“How do these represent Christmas? ”
Astounded, St Peter said
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poem by David Whalen
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