07-18-09** Irish Love
I know I shouldn't of
But I smiled yesterday
When one of my friends
Told me a joke
'Two Irish guys
Are sitting in a pub.'
How many times have I heard
One start out like this
'One guy says to the other,
My wife's a saint
Just a pure saint
My hand to God.'
The other replies,
'Your're lucky
Mine, bless her soul,
Is stiill alive.'
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Recrudesce
Here we go again
We've been here before
No one asked for this
No one requested more
So here we go again
Feels like sliding on ice
No traction No balance
Sure doesn't feel nice
Try to grab on
Looking for something stable
We reach We try to grip
Wer're not able
There's noting to tie on to
There's nothing to hold
Once we had each other
No surprise Ice is cold
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Malcontent Debris
Why do you think they wear goggles?
To keep their eyeballs in?
The two orbs are not trying to escape.
All they want is a little protection
From the stuff flying at you as you pick up speed.
You don't need the goggles
Quietily sitting writing a poem.
You need them,
Firmly strapped on,
When you're out there;
Collecting the stuff
You'll need to write a poem.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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No Mandatory Rhymes Or Reason
Homer to
Chaucer to
Whitman to
Bukowski et al. to
Me to
You
A poem is where I find it,
Not just what was written
In a different time.
Pieces of a poem are everywhere.
Pick them up, pull them together, write them down
And they call you a poet.
Ignore the pieces you see in person, read or hear;
You've wasted your sight and hearing
And they don't call you at all.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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2008: from 2001 - Just Enough To Win
No wasted energy here
You have to watch closely
Before you realize that older
And gray to playing way
Below his level
For him
It's a rather light half-court workout
Winner's outs lots of youth
He's mediator coach and
Outside go-to guy
He doesn't bang much
In the middle anymore
He's just where he needs to be
When he needs to be
Slightly above inside and
[...] Read more
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Thank God For Horses That Talk To Me
My wife takes most words literally where they fall
She does not understand my poems at all
She tolerates the time I spend with them
'Long as I don't ask her what she thinks of 'em
She is more like our daughter
Who at age ten indignantly
Handed me back 'Black Beauty'
'I'm not reading this.
Horses don't talk.'
Thank God for my poetic license
And all the horses that
Keep talking to me
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Einstein before his was EINSTEIN
a found poem in
'The Life and Times of Einstein' by Ronald Clark: page 51
'In Berne,
Einstein was another...
unobtrusively trotting
from Gerectigkeit Square to
the patent office each morning,
usually lunching at his desk,
returning to his lodings
each evening with
the orthodoxy of the city clerk,
then setting himself down
in a quiet corner to
discover the laws of nature.'
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Where are They Now?
Where are the bunkhouses
Where they once washed up - ate - slept
Where is the work we used to have for them
Where is the next freight train out of town
Where are the freight trains
They used to jump on and off
To get to the next work camp
The next job -the next hobo camp -
The last train pulled out
Of our abandoned station long ago
They're stuck in our town with
No jobs - homeless under a bridge
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Send In the Clowns
That's what they do
In a three-ring circus
When something goes wrong
They send in the clowns
It's to distract the audience
From the ring with a problem
Sometimes a net breaks
Sometimes an animal balks
A political example
Of sending in the clowns
Is Ms. Clinton being sent
To the Mideast to broker peace
The resulting cease fire
In a fagile tent
That may catch fire
Then it's back to weasons for hire
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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COFFEE CHOICES Taken for Granted
Sitting, sipping, at a table outside
Under an awning in a cold light steady rain
Lets more stuff
Happen in my brain
Than if I were warm inside
In a nicer chair;
Acting like
I didn't really care
If others outside
Can't afford to come in.
They're also banned from the bathroom.
Seems like a sin.
I can see the practical side of
Where to sit as I choose.
Guess I should be glad of
A privilege I have yet to lose.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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