Sun
Setting
Under
Setting
Sun
Categories
Palindrome
Author: Makar
Stephen Sutherlin is a designer, poet and musician. He writes poetry about life in the southwest and enjoys metrical lyricism.
Categories
American Eulogy
We weep
We weep
We cry
We seek
Meaning
For our
Reverend
And our lost
So many
So many
We knew
Intimately
Now gone
Now gone
To this
Viral cause
Sisters
Brothers
Fathers
Mothers
Our uncles
Grandmas
Our friends
And lovers
Few have been
Untouched
By this Angel
Of Death
Their flags
They fly
Cross the
Capitol sky
So many
Lights in
Reflections
Tonight
Now tamped
Out and
With our prayers
Take flight
Our river
Of tears
Pour on
Pour on
So many
Great Lives
Cut short
In their stride
We call out
Their names
We share
Their good deeds
A chorus
This mourning
Leaves us
All in need
Let us pray
I – Book of Matches
Theme, Tone, Meter
Subject so
Illusive
Matters, meanings
And Moments
Illustrative
We have relinquished our
place at the council table
We have forsaken our
Duty to protect the arts
We have been overcome
By our own eviscerating criticism
We have severed the artisan’s
Hand from the corporal community
We have left them behind
To suffer the brutality of the mob
They have come to the Library
With torches — Our Words
Read In Fire
II – Fire Song
The Pages tumbled
Off the shelf
Waterfall —
Firefall
Fire
Burns
Tumbles Pages back up
Full of Flames
The words read
One last time
by Fire
Falls
Fire
Burns
Pages tumble and whirl
In tornadoes
On Fire, Words
Consumed for
The last time
by fire
Falls
Fire
Burns
Swirls with sparkles
Of the Sun
Consuming One
Last time
Our words
by Firefalls
of Fire
Burning books
Consuming
One
Last
Time — Our words
Burn
What makes
A lot of Crows
A Murder?
Forty
Or so
That’s for sure
They’ve come
For the nuts
And some water
Their coats
Shining black
Night-sky pure
Categories
Crow
Crow, Crow
Pushy
Scared
Crow, Crow
Every
Where
Some in the garden
Some on the roof
Crow, crow
Sacred
Proof
Categories
Two Towers
Standing behind the crowd in the
Auditorium, looking down at
The Wasteland and more importantly
The Poet on a pedestal who
We were in awe to see. We bow
And say blessings to the lord of the
Modern moment where everyone realized
We were doomed. That the industrial gloom
Would blacken our minds as it had
Already blackened our lungs
And blinded our windshields
Our eyes in the dim lit neon spectacles, wept.
This was my experience from the lectern.
And I worshipped for many years the
Quartets and the high-minded — I don’t
Understand — Get the Encyclopedia — language
But, this was
Modern?
Now
I reckon
upon
a more clearly modern mind
Here
I find
The Red
Wheelbarrow
And a delicious
Plum
And I am
completely
satisfied
By nothing too Mythic
At all (save Unicorns & Beasts)
Just A
Waterfall
Of images
and words
That float along on pages
The rhythm
Tapping its foot – – –
Variably – – – –
Changing
Before you know it
You don’t know it
You don’t know why
It has changed
But it feels
So right.
Justified on the page to fit
Left and right
Right and wrong
Tomorrow and Goodnight
The Wanderer
The Sparrow
The Woman
The River
The Man
The City
The Poet
Founder
Of the plain
Every day
And therefore
Devotionally and divine poem.
Categories
Night B4 Christmas
We used to spend
A lot of time
At Christmas
Making magic
In the dark
Behind the curtain
From whole carrots
Left for reindeer
Turned to shredded Peels
The half drunk
Milk and a belly
Full of cookies
I didn’t need
To eat to
The secrets revealed
In the morning
When they wake to
Find “Santa Came!”
Categories
“Christmas Tears” by Jim Sutherlin
This cannot be understood unless the degree
of sibling rivalry between Louise and Jimmy
is also understood.
But that is another item discussed elsewhere.
Christmas morning.
Presents opened.
Floor littered.
Santa had arrived and just the right presents were
now being enjoyed.
Louise had a perfectly pretty doll she adored.
Jimmy had a six-shooter pistol with holster and belt.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Running through the house shooting everything in sight.
Cap smoke and smell filled the air.
“Jimmy! Get on your coat and take that outside,”
Mom yelled from the kitchen.
“Get out of here,” Louise echoed from the living room.
That sounded like a good idea to Jimmy.
Outside meant more targets imagined or real.
After Christmas dinner and because of the early awakening,
Jimmy fell asleep.
But no sooner had his eyes popped open again
than he was up looking for his pistol, holster and belt.
Search as his might they were nowhere in sight.
Outside.
He must have left them outside.
The search continued and they were outside for sure.
Belt and holster were tossed aside.
The pistol was smashed to smithereens
between two bricks!
Weeping and wailing, he ran to the house and
told Dad what had happened.
Louise went into hiding in the darkest corner
she could find.
But Dad found her.
And with her doll in hand and her hand
reluctantly in Dad’s hand the scene of the crime was revisited.
Justice would be done.
The pretty doll was then laid on one brick
and Louise was made to bash it to pieces with the other one.
Pieces of broken pistol littered the ground
joined by pieces of broken doll.
Tears kept on streaming to the ground from Jimmy’s cheeks
soon to be mixed with even more tears
as Louise joined the chorus of weeping and wailing.
The two kids were too young to think
of anything or anyone else.
But if someone else had been there to notice,
the bitterest Christmas tears that day
were in Dad’s eyes.
Categories
Winter’s Day
Winter is here
Mid-
Winter
If you
Live someplace cold
Cold is here
Morning
Ice
Muffin tops
Made of glass
Glass window
Draped
In fog
Glowing
With Christmas colors
Colors everywhere
This time of year
A light
To bring you
Through the dark winter night