02-22-10****It Wasn't About Singing and Dancing
We wanted to watch
Them sing and dance
Yet no one would hire them
Out of SF's Chinatown
So that's where we went
To watch them
Sing and dance
In their nightclubs
We locals went
Hollywood stars
Of the 1940s and 50s
Would be there too
Then the Chinese
Singers and dancers
Were recruited by Gene Kelly
For the movie Flower Drum Song
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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God's Gifts
God has many gifts
For us to take when we can
Or like God's first couple
Will we have to say we ran
Out of the Garden
It was too much to take
For the love of wisdom
Dont blame it all on the snake
To know from right and wrong
Or to let go and pray
How do you think you'll answer
When you get asked some day
It won't be easy
No clear wrong or right
You might get asked at morning
Or very late at night
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Two Found Poems in 'For Whom the Bell Tolls
'I believe
that I could walk up
to the mill and
knock on the door and
I would be welcome
except that they have orders
to challenge all travelers
and ask to see their papers.
It is only orders
that come between us.
Those men
are not fascists.
I call them so, but
they are not.
They are poor men,
as we are.'
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Don't you listen to him Dan...'
*an old Country Western Tune
sung by Son of the Pioneers
'...he spreads the buring sands
with water-cool-clear-water.'*
Chris Antley: age 34, jocky, dead, O.D.,
Xanax, meth, alcohol, Pasadena, California.
Who hasn't been to the edge of a pool-
Somehow found their back?
How to hang on without hope?
Someone else may know the rule;
Without drugs to help up and down,
Without a record nine 1st place wins in a day
And two Derby wins hanging on him
Like a heavy crown.
Cell phone in hand pacing 'round his pool
Nothing on the surface draws a smile.
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Not Designed To Wait In Line at Starbucks
Black hair mane-like
Black shoes socks
Strapped in a vest-like
Over long
Warm dark
Sleeves
Where have I seen
Something like this before
Sensing so much desire to move
Not designed to wait in line
So much more to do
Straining at the ropes
That couldn't hold her
Even if
They wanted to
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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6-25-09**What Soughs Through Me
If you admitted hearing voices
In ancient times they would have calledl you
A shaman a prophet a seer or
Maybe even Moses
In Salem you would have been called
A witch a warlock or
One possessed needing to be
Put to death
Part of the art
Of being a poet
Is to listen to the voices
As they sough through you
The sounds are gentle reminders
To pay attention to a color
A smell a word a sight
Then to remember it in words
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Frost
Frost covers fallen bridges,
As it does the ones that stand.
The whiteness settles overywhere.
It's gone when I touch your hand.
The morning is when we see the frost,
Yet we know it came the night before.
I've been awake, still it has come;
Quiet and cold to our locked door.
We have watched frost go.
Have you ever seen it start,
As it wanders up the gulch
And slinks into our hearts?
Then there's always morninig,
Or you suppose ther'll always be.
The sun the frost is melting
As we go on, you and me.
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Off Track
He never took me to the track
The sport of kings my ass
It filled up part of his life
That we pretended wasn't there
All that time spent
On the phone
With the racing sheet
His little book
Whatever he thought was coming
Down the final stretch
Never made him a king
Left him uncovered several times
And broke him in the end
What is that magic out there
That makes them stand and yell
Waving their tickets
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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A Striking Pose
There is a a distinct difference
Between her moderately made-up face
Glancing away and her stark white ankles
Flashing at me
Sock-less
Above black canvas shoes
And just below
Fashionable black pant cuffs
It's like that face
Does not match the person
That is using those ankles
To stand near my table
I realize that the sun's rays
Are partly to blame for the difference
The ankles have avoided exposure
To untra-violet rays and attempted remedies
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Barbara's Been a Bad Girl
Barbara's been a bad girl
Someone should have said
Then taken away her candy
And sent her straight to bed
Barbara grew up with people
Who would never scold
Who were always within reach
Without even being told
She starting meeting friends
Just to keep the blues away
Soom they moved in
And were there to stay
We never really knew little Barbara
When we met she'd already been sold
To friends who didn't care
She only wanted more and not to get old
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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