Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

No Flow

Posted: July 8, 2020 in Poetry
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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.

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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

Posted: June 25, 2020 in Poetry
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MRI
By David Allen 

MRI today
Glad I'm not claustrophobic 
Noise paints inner self

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

Posted: May 18, 2020 in Poetry
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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 Poetry
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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.

bugshirt

 

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 Poetry
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SLEEPER

 

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.

 

athedoor2

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!
 

 

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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