I've been spending so much time here (reading, mostly -- rather than posting), so I figured I might check if there are any poetry lovers here. Here's one of mine published by UCLA's Westwind and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore (I've found that if I tell people a poem is published, they like it better ): New Car Mom called me home, dad was out of control. Being out of work does that to him: He'd bought another car. I went to his room, found him with his face in his hands, the window blinds down. It's too much pressure on your mom, I shouldn't have done it. He had the keys to his forehead, squinting in the dark. He clicked his tongue and it brought me back to grade school. He would click his disappointment at my backward threes and fives. He would take my hands in his, his always the rougher and thicker, even when I grew taller. He balled them into great fists, to knock bandits off their horses. -- and here's a shorter one, published by UC Irvine's New Forum: Hands These, that half my lifetime ago started to lose feeling after so many split green peas, shrimp denuded and psalms transcribed, after having helped so many bodies out of the water, new creations after baptism, forged a few passport papers, and shut not a few eyelids forever, stumble now across the keys in broken time, yielding bars in stray measure— these don't listen anymore, you say but they are vessels of gold and silver, having traveled from feet in washtubs to foreheads anointed with oil. Now they strain to hit the notes of a two-line melody, having been made inessential. -- Thanks for reading! If you are a poet, or a reader, let's talk! :thumbup:
