Tuesday, 04 June 2019 13:44

April 2019 Poems

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The apple blossoms were in the puddles

On the pavement after the pelting of

The rain — looking like the confetti on

The street after a parade — but we missed


The parade this year as the blooms were just

Starting to appear when an overnight

Downpour broke the connections of petals

With the trees and I feel a little sad


That the joyous parade of my driving

By the flowering trees has passed me by

This year because I love seeing the blooms

As a celebration of beauty that


Always accompanies the return of

Spring and the resurrection of the trees.


But now I see

many of the trees

have yet to reach

their full flowering and

I’m just being gloomy.



It is a bubble of a thought that burst

A moment before its proper time or

You could say it’s a hiccup or even

An interruption of a really good


Inspiration that led to something quite

A bit better than itself later on

But as it is doesn’t cohere into

A complete package that elicits a


Sense of satisfaction — as it looks like

A compendium of nonsensical

Elements that are fine enough if they

Were separate but together they are


Ridiculous — so I have to remark

Who could imagine the platypus?


And yet it swims

gracefully and waddles

along on land — and lays

its eggs and deploys

venom and growls.



It can’t be seen by only looking at

A person but once the conversation

Begins and honest words are exchanged then

I can see the battered appearance and


I can sense the depth of sincerity

In the selection of words and the in

Quiet and measured pace of expression

And then I know here is a kind and a


Well meaning person who has suffered and

Has determined to use intelligence

And experience and whatever pride

There might have been is washed away and now


There is a poise and a readiness to

Respond with a wealth of humility.


There is a sweetness

that only arises

from suffering and

a determination

to be helpful.



Michelangelo was fired with a

Conception of God surrounded by his

Angels in heaven reaching out with his

Index finger to touch the finger of


Adam on Earth and perhaps in the act

God effected a transference of a

Tinge of divinity and a freedom

Of choice allowing for a growth into


The humane or for a dissipation

Into evil and by the Renaissance

In Italy evil was already

Old in the world and people needed their


Consolations and inspirations and

We really aren’t much different today.


Did Adam feel like

I did when opening

a tin of cat food

and slicing the tip of

my index finger?



I don’t begrudge the critical voice its

Imposing place within my awareness

Because I need a check on selfishness

And a sense of justice and decency


But it’s easy to belittle myself

And to disparage the things I have done

And nothing is more destructive of my

Peace than persistently negative thought


And the daily tenor of my thinking

Has the capacity to destroy my

Chances for happiness if I give my

Punishing monologue too much power


But I don’t believe I’m alone in thought —

In the quiet the divine emerges.






love I’m


Read 3287 times Last modified on Tuesday, 04 June 2019 13:53
Barry MacDonald

Editor & Publisher of the St. Croix Review.

More in this category: « Senatorial Pandemonium
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