My husband's poetry

Author: cfblack

  • Holding hands

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    My first heroes were my sisters, just the three of us, before three others came They walked me to the school house door when I was only five We are knocking on eternity’s door, aging out, falling apart and I must journey home, hold their hand and walk them to the door 6/3/24

  • Midnight

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    bright, white moon night sounds in trees owl in park calls who street lights cast long shadows in the yard distance traffic going anywhere, but here I sit quiet in the dark 6/23/24

  • Ode to Billie Joe

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    Was it living up on Choctaw Ridge, Tallahatchie Bridge, Billie Joe MacAllister or something thrown off the bridge last week. Was it the river that flows below it all or the empty space between that spoke to Bobbie Gentry 6/23/24

  • ‘Promise’

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    We drift, caught in a river of time. Each moment a verse waiting to be written. Each breath an enjambment, a bridge between what is and what will be. A promise of new beginnings in the spaces between. (Writing from the prompt: Enjambment) 6/12/24

  • ‘Window Washer’

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    “in the garden wet with rain” flowers rise and bloom I’ll wash your windows if you dare to see walk you through the doorway dream beneath the sky we will visit with the sun converse in silent whispers synchronize nature’s music piano concerto wet with dew our hearts in shock “no guru, no method, no…

  • ‘Mr. Binkley’s Crab Apple Tree’

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Running through the neighborhood, crawling under bushes, hiding in Mr. Binkley’s crab apple tree. Playing army, believing a tree, a bush, a fence or the corner of a building would protect us from death. Kids fighting imaginary wars with plastic guns. No politics or religious ax to grind. We were undefeated, waiting for the ice…

  • Untitled

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    It does not take a storm to drop a limb from a tree sometimes it is a loud crack high up in a tree on a windless day that tells you it is time to let go step clear and let it fall 6/6/24

  • Run Cinderella Run

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    On further study, folklorists have determined Prince Charming was a kinky dude with a foot fetish He did not remember his dance partner by eyes, smile, cleavage or the curve of her hips He knew his beloved by her foot size and whether it fit a discarded glass slipper This is porn site worthy I…

  • Haiku for afternoon rain

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in

    low grumbling grey sky pushes the sunshine aside time to go inside 6/4/24

  • Bilbo’s lament

    —

    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Maybe it was a sense of power Maybe it was a sense of freedom Maybe it was just a childhood fantasy Riding Shadowfax into battle A fancy wizarding ring on your finger But the battles are not at your back door And it’s safer for an old man to ride a pony Through ancient, enchanted,…