yrjö jyske CC
Like a detective or salesman after a lead,
a jealous extra hungry for of the first lead role,
my destinies shift between control and rolled dice.
Knowing the sea will be not forever ice free
along my chosen route, do I want to free boot
or aspire to engage as a cruise ship boot black
and watch the unsettled play their slots and black jack
in quest of their elusive holy grail jack pot
while jaded doves adrenalize in the spot light?
The isolated, stark figure of the light house
confronts the image of the soft-bobbing house boat
like a cradle rocking itself in its boat slip
moored oh so serenely by its careful slip knot
which is not (not!) a noose. It's a kind of knot ring.
O, to be barefoot beach boy, heedless of ring worm.
Dawn opens with a wrathful reveille.
(rats and gnats and vampire bats)
It wakes my ghostly hosts of reverie.
(eagles and sharks and harpies)
Each sunrise haunts me with thoughts of what-if
(reptiles, raptors, piranhas)
and seals me, whipped and torn, into pain's pit,
(vultures and tarantulas)
The daybreak is broken by memory
(dire wolves, tigers, and spiders)
of friends betrayed, life commitments delayed,
(leaches, leopards, and lions)
unjust old grudges without remedy.
(panthers, pythons, scorpions)
Today is just another yesterday.
(hornets, grizzlies, and gators)
Every breakfast consists of pain and ache.
(orcs, falcons, and tsetse flies)
Not even noon provides any relief.
(razorbacks and sabertooths)
No daylight thief can ever steal my grief.
(jackals, crocks, and cancer)
So I await an eternal daybrake.
I know the pain results from my pride,
and pleading priests promise peace can find me,
but I can't repent or take the knee.
It's not possible to apologize.
(wolverines, bees, mosquitoes,
fire ants, and barracudas...)
Duane Vorhees lives in Thailand with his wife, son, dogs, and parakeets. He writes when he has something to say, though he doesn't always know what that. Hog press, of Ames, IA, has published three of his collections of poetry, THE MANY LOVES OF DUANE VORHEES, HEAVEN, and GIFT: GOD RUNS THROUGH ALL THESE ROOMS.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.