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| Poem 110. |
Tin Man
The Tin Man searches through mists of time,
His joints ache from abuse of the long road,
His vision obscured by tears of passion.
Far ahead, his love waits a lonely shore,
Her heart suffocates in unending sand,
Her mind cries silently with deep longing.
No oil spared, even for meager relief,
No comfort to succor his loneliness,
Each step echoes with grief and aching pain.
Dark fell long ago this mystical night,
The path too, is but a ghost of memory,
Midnight comes, destiny riding the hour.
Like a mindless beast, he will not give up,
Hope provides a single shining beacon,
The armor of her love protects his heart.
The clock strikes twelve as his foot meets the shore,
With his caress, the sand flees from her soul.
Mark this, nothing stands in the way of love.
December 15, 1992
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| Poem 109. |
The Mermaid
She sits there, lonely,
Waiting for the world,
Oblivious to our feelings
As we are to hers.
There were two of them,
Tall, Teutonic, loud,
They wanted pictures
Of their barbaric triumph.
One had climbed on top
Of her head like she
Was a cow or a peak
To claim for their own.
The other pointed
A cheap camera at
His friend’s humiliation
Of a treasured memory.
I could not take it,
Though I was a guest
In a foreign land,
I yelled at them.
They looked at me,
Shocked at my voice,
Fear of the crazy man
Who shook a fist at them.
But they left, and
Quiet returned
To the harbor, and
I touched her shoulder.
Reassurance sent or
Received, it did not
Change her, but I felt
Like a literary patriot.
October 3, 2004
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