Poems

each star is like a firefly
that signals: here, I'm here!
come help me decorate the sky
come join, don't disappear!
they signal, lonely for a mate
and in the empty void, they wait

a car's odometer remains
a crucial factor to explain
the value of a car
depends on driving far
a plain mechanical display
counts only upwards, come what may
and you can not make purse
by driving in reverse
in new cars, those without a dash
the Tesla's one, it'll cost you cash
it's on an info screen
which is a bit obscene
where are my digits in a row
I liked them counting as I go
not sure how I will feel
when cars don't have a wheel

oh, but to see your features once again
to gently brush my hand against your cheek
to have you look up suddenly and then
to kiss you on the mouth -- my knees grow weak
from just the thought of having you be near
imagining you'll walk right through that door
throw off your heels or slippers, I'll say "here"
and watch you as your dress falls to the floor
remembering your lips as I wake up
and kissing you so softly on the nose
our secret names, no, not my Buttercup
my Jezebel, still with me when I doze

the universe, indifferent, took you first
the house is full of echoes, and I thirst

Author notes: Shakespearean sonnet

foyer lights are on full dimmer
shoes laid neatly on their rack
coats arranged, from fat to slimmer
empty hangers in a stack

dainty dishes stew and simmer
children banished from their quests
of the moon, not yet a glimmer
mamma readies for her guests

streetlights twinkle on, and steady
by the time the doorbell rings
mamma, standing at the ready
jumps a bit as if on springs

the door opens, there is Eddie
parents, gothic, by his side
pitchfork left at home, a teddy
Eddie brought it for his bride

awkward silence for a second
mamma brushes off a tear
a wide smile, come in, I reckon
do come in, come in, oh dear

all are silent through the check in
small talk frozen in the throat
mamma finds her voice and beckons
Eddie's mom gives up her coat

house tour is declined, politely
heading to the dining room
mamma leads the way, lit brightly
followed by the bride and groom

table, round, its seating knightly
to ensure a proper view
dishes flavorful and sightly
Eddie whispers: I love you

***********************************

forty years, the story's written
tiny chapters on my knees
come to play here with my kittens
Ed and I, forever smitten
tiny chapters, here's a squeeze

fallow, just a silhouette
I'm an outline without you
discard sorrow and regret
color me where color's due
stay with me, and we shall roam
let forever be our home

grey is winter, shadows short
spring a sprinter, time to court
summer slammer, don't leave yet
fall's a bummer, cold and wet

milestones aggregate and pass
parties, cost per plate and class
frothy markets, trophy wives
glossy pamphlets, bossy lives

health scares, losses and regret
fall's a bummer, cold and wet
old age barges in, well met
summer slammer, don't leave yet

Author notes: Arthur Goikhman // alliteration and inner rhymes as well as end rhymes are used throughout. S1L2, L3  Spring a Sprinter and Summer Slummer winer/sprinter/slammer/bummer are rhymed mid-line in the S1 S2 inner rhymes or near-rhymes in forthy/trophy and glossy/bossy two lines from the first stanza repeat (but in different order) in the S3

the daffodil makes known its will
do put me on a windowsill
the sun should shine on me just so
embracing me with loving glow

a mirror surely would suffice?
you're neither rose nor edelweiss
you can reflect and recollect
I know there's nothing to perfect

don't tease me, you old garden god
though you have plucked me from the mud
the mud awaits your prompt return
or is your choice a Grecian urn?

it's prickly, my daffodil
I put it on the windowsill
and watch the sun; its loving glow
embraces me, from head to toe

Author notes: wc 97 the art is Daffodils In The Window by Robin Wethe Altman, image from iCanvas https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcissus_(mythology)

clay idols, lay gods
play titles sway odds
grim tidings foreseen
trim -- hiding obscene
words gather awards
deeds done for rewards
sheep worship and pray
lay gods, made of clay

curiosity
condemned Schrodinger's cat
to uncertainty

when everything's been said, can words suffice
can written symbols truly represent
can sentences, ambiguous, precise
translate the writer's actual intent

can brushstrokes capture a reluctant smile
a warm embrace or murderous designs
a monarch in his glory, all the while
reminding you to read between the lines

the artist and their medium, indeed
the spirits, on occasion, may provide
a séance doesn't struggle to succeed
so long as the provider knows who died

the truth is harsh, it slaps you in the face
a pencil in your hand, the words erase

my 25th birthday
young but wise am I
centerian

fly, fly
birds, bye bye
winter weather
foul for feather