No Flow
By David Allen
I wonder
If the reason
My fountain pen
Fails to write
An impressive
Bold black line
Is the same
As my current
Writer’s block.
The ink,
Like the words,
Just refuses
To flow.
Restless Legs
Posted: June 29, 2020 in PoetryTags: medicine, moving, prescription, Restless Legs, side effect, travel
RESTLESS LEGS
By David Allen
The warning that came
With my new prescription
Said a possible side effect
Was Restless Leg Syndrome.
I scratched my head and thought,
“Side effect? What’s the big deal?
Hell, I’ve had restless legs all my life.”
I was never much of a stay-at-home,
At last count, I’ve moved 43 times
In the last seven decades.
I hitchhiked and drove through
Most of the U.S. states
And lived in four of them’
And the District of Columbia.
I also lived and worked in Guam
And Okinawa, Japan,
And cruised around Germany, Korea,
Thailand, and numerous
South Pacific and Caribbean Islands.
So, yeah, my legs are restless
And I am excited to see
Where they’ll take me
Once this new medicine works.
MRI By David Allen MRI today Glad I'm not claustrophobic Noise paints inner self
The Light’s Gone out (again)
Posted: June 5, 2020 in PoetryTags: liberty, poetry, protest, violence
The Light’s Gone Out (again)
By David Allen
It’s getting darker in America
We have somehow lost the dawn
We move slowly as the light dims
And wonder what went wrong
Lady Liberty’s torch is out
It no longer lights the way
We choke on the wisps of smoke
As we face darker days.
Fear and hate now rule the land
It’s the opposite of our dawn
When we welcomed the huddled mass
Escaping foreign wrongs.
But now we limit travel
Because of a viral threat
And watch on TV the horror
Of a black man kneed to death.
As we take to the streets to protest
Our mad leader makes it known
He’ll use all the means at his disposal
To ensure the Dove of Peace has flown.
We’re living in a land divided
By race, religion, and much more
Left and Right poles further splitting
In a mad rush to settle scores.
It’s the opposite of dawn
This nightmare land of fear
And when we’ll see the sun again
Isn’t very clear.
GREEN
By David Allen
Within a week
the world turned green
outside my humble home.
Branches that bore
tiny green shoots
now bend with the weight
of broad oak leaves.
The woods are alive
with chatterings and coos.
But the leaves hide
the high aerie roosts
and the busy birds
tending their broods.
Wired
Posted: April 21, 2020 in PoetryTags: confused, cords, tangled, unmatched socks, Wired, wires
Wired
By David Allen
Something strange
Is happening here.
Matched socks
Become unmated
When freed from the dryer.
And the footloose
Shoe stuffers
Leave no word
Of where they went.
And parking in a space
Called a driveway
Leaves me scratching
My head bald and benumbed,
Remembering how I was also
Confused by driving
On parkways.
But nothing was as weird
As the warped wire mystery
That messed with me today
As I looked in an old storage tub
For a smartphone charger.
The wires I swear were placed there
Individually months, years ago,
Was one huge mass.
Old phone cords wound around
Extension cords that must have
Extended welcome to strings
Of earbuds and HDMI connectors
Who gladly wrapped themselves
In a loose wire love fest,
Apparently testing
All the tangled twists
Of the Kama Sutra.
I spent more than an hour
Unwinding them while wondering
What I would find the next time
I searched for a cord.
Battling the Bug
Posted: March 29, 2020 in PoetryTags: apocalypse, battle, bug, coronavirus, Covid 19, deaths, poetry, quarantine, staying unside, virus
BATTLING THE BUG
By David Allen
We’re hunkered down inside our homes
while Covid 19 is running wild.
The death count’s mounting up
while the President keeps lying.
I’m looking for the Gorilla Glue,
gonna paste my doors and windows,
make sure the bug stays outside
while I watch the horror news
and binge-watch apocalypse movies.
And just to stay safe,
If the bug makes it through a crack
I hope to slow its deathly attack
with my welcoming black bug shirt.
I’m Afraid to Touch Her
Posted: March 27, 2020 in PoetryTags: fear, life, MS, pain, poetry, touching
I’m Afraid to Touch Her
By David Allen
I’m afraid to touch her.
Sometimes the MS pain’s so bad
she lies in bed all day and wonders
whether life is really worth it all.
I’m afraid to touch her.
I want to tell her it’s okay,
the pain has always briefly eased,
yet now it’s returned much worse.
I’m afraid to touch her.
There’s no telling where next it will hurt,
we can kiss and hug, but not too hard.
There’s no cure for what pains her every day.
I’m afraid to touch her.
Covid 19’ll Get You
Posted: March 26, 2020 in PoetryTags: Covid 19, loneliness, pandemic, quarantine, virus
COVID 19’ll GET YOU
By David Allen
(With apologies to James Whitcomb Riley)
Little David Allen’s in his house to stay
An’ washes the pots and plates up, meditating on days
Of fear and quarantinin’, meanin’ don’t go out for a drink
“Keep a social distance,” is the order, makin’ one think
If the loneliness is worth it, if you can’t get or give a hug
AIl because we’ve been invaded by a new pandemic bug
Aw, livin’ in this new age just makes me want to shout
Covid 19’ll get you
If you
Don’t
Watch
Out!
Sunrise in America
Posted: March 3, 2020 in PoetryTags: America, Election, King, poems, poetry, politics, sunrise, Trump
SUNRISE IN AMERICA
By David Allen
I am waiting for sunrise in America
after this dark, broken night,
where democracy’s been pummeled
by the clown chief’s rubber mallet
and narcissistic scrawls on edicts
that devastate social programs
and reward the rich elite.
I am waiting for sunrise in America
to shine on the nation’s capital,
where swamp creatures swim laps
around the White House and Senate,
where multitudes hurl protest chants
at their representatives’ deaf ears
and any change for the good is pending.
I am waiting for sunrise in America
the morning after votes are cast,
to see if the false prince falls
or is enshrined as our new king
bringing on the darker night and fog,
smothering what’s left of our freedoms.
………………………………
This poem is one of three poems of mine published in the fantastic Polk Street Review.
https://squareup.com/store/CEArts/item/the-polk-street-review-2?t=modal-fb
