My husband's poetry

Category: daily life

  • polecat pheromones

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    killing time currency of youth scavenger hunt for answers gather at the ball court – without a ball oblivious of the smell who am I to judge killing time 3-25-24

  • forgiveness haiku

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    it’s not where you’ve been it’s where you are now standing and where you’re going

  • The Archaeologist

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Inspired by morning coffee with a friend: Boxing up mother’s life for an estate sale, he wondered if all the perfume and cologne still smelled cheap or if they improved with age. He wondered, if there was a way to save unburned candles from the glass votive series that lined a shelf behind her chair.…

  • meditation at the kitchen sink

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    by

    cfblack
    in

    in early morning light a soap bubble told a dish rag in my curves I prism rainbows then burst in joyous colors 4-18-24

  • (no title)

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    dusk songs in the bush, in a tree, across the street, in the park, in my neighbor’s yard songs sung short and sweet 4-28-24

  • Love cuisine

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    You say you’re not hungry, but she cooks fish sticks anyway, because fish sticks are an act of love and the world needs more love (Whatever the hell that means). She calls you inside. You put four on a paper plate, add horse radish sauce for dipping and go back outside to eat. Confident no…

  • Labor Day

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Small limb dressed in blue-green lichen, light as balsa wood, falls at my feet, all used up, breaks into three pieces, fit for the fire. I finish my coffee, rise from my chair, go inside change my clothes, and face the day. 9-2-24

  • Harrison Butker

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    or The Somnambulant Man in the middle of the night (comatose for decades) View Post he woke up struggled to feed himself left his dirty underwear on the bathroom floor everyone and everything had gone on without him his kids had grown up his wife had grown independent his mother had died while inside he…

  • no title

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    rain drips from trees drums dry brown leaves snare rattles downspouts birds sing call and response highway drones bass line sit silent and listen 5-19-24

  • recycling day

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Sit in a lawn chair read Keats wait for the city truck to haul away trash we call recycling. Plaintive bird calls three times from the bush. No reply. 5-20-24