By Thomas Page To the little fiend Who is calling my stomach Home, you need to scram Every time we tell Ourselves "what in the Lord's name Is this sickness" flu? The displaced rosebush On alien soul starts To bloom differently Will there be flowers In the coming centuries? A world without spring?
Tommy Haiku #95-98
By Thomas Page "What happened to your Knee?" I hit it with shovel I swung 'round my head Two happy little Pigeons sit on fire pit Unaware of it "Let's start a fire" We gather ample kindling It's too wet to light "Happy Autumn Days" They said but it's 82 Today and I'm hot
Tommy Haiku #91-94
By Thomas Page A hall without right Angles has many corners cut; Small elevator Countless, priceless works Of art sit in cool gall'ries Facing another Crickets sing nightly Of yestereen's courtly deeds Only known to them Sand between your feet, The salty air hits your face; Sun rising in the east
Tommy Haiku #87-90
By Thomas Page Loads upon countless Loads covered in sweat; odor Of a summer job Traveling midnight Roads with little light Without roar of passing might Headlights dimly show The way on old country lanes Nestled in the glens Fog pre-lit by dawn Breaking up the blue night sky; An array of new light
“The Metrorail”
By Thomas Page Whether on cool, misty mornings or one Won over by sweltering heat some train, main artery of the city, somewhere, Care of no one, is slowly churning near Mere moments of civilization there. Where are these passengers going today? May there be a moment of reflection, Inflection of the conductor saying Waning … Continue reading “The Metrorail”
“Songbird”
By Thomas Page Songbird, songbird outside my window now How is the world out there? Are there cool days, Ways for you to get seed or other things? Wings unfurled and no longer young fledging Edging along the window's glass it flies Wise to our questions that it needn't know. Grow like a hatchling, without … Continue reading “Songbird”
“Her Little Irishman”
by Thomas Page My mother would praise me her Irishman. "Can you see his auburn hair and rosy, Cozy complexion. He's a giant and Grand in a room of others. An Irishman, Helmsman of the Emerald Isle today." Lay your Shepherd's Cap on my head, parade, Serenade on St. Patrick's Day old song Long held … Continue reading “Her Little Irishman”
Fall poetry
By Thomas Page Winged beasts interrupt peaceful autumn dreams. Seams made of sandman's dust torn asunder Plunder the joy of Samhain's carved lit gourds Lords of mischief sew new fear and horror Terror ruling the night 'till Saints daybreak. Make haste to Harvest festivals, they say, May you not know the devil's wicked ways. Haze … Continue reading Fall poetry
Tommy Haiku # 84-86
By Thomas Page End of a season Waning light as each new night Rises with autumn's moon Oh ominously Chilly air above our heads Where there ghosts may be In its hiding spot The creature worries about The spiders below
Save the piles of earth that hold their bones
By Thomas Page Golden Shovel WC Bryant "The Prairies" Save the piles of earth that hold their bones" An evening painted with moonlight bright save A lone graveyard hidden by glen and the Kudzu o'er telephone wire, piles Of history lay to rest for now. Of Saints, Sinners, and inbetweeners in earth Buried hold the … Continue reading Save the piles of earth that hold their bones
Academy of the Heart And Mind 