Monthly Archives: June 2012

Haiku

cherry pickers   birds
move through the orchard gorging:
writers seeking words

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Haiku

dusk    fireflies winking
children’s calls  hiding  seeking
aging thoughts of youth

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Epifanía / Epiphany – a poem in Spanish with English translation

Cada día llega
llevando su regalo.
A veces está escondido
en luz o sombra,
en son o silencio,
en aquellos que encontramos
o dentro de nosotros mismos.
Hay que buscarlo con cuidado.
Y cuando se halla
hay que tesorarlo.
Y para poseerlo de veras
hay que compartirlo
como pan.

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(translation)

Each day arrives
bearing its gift.
Sometimes it is hidden
in light or in shadow,
in a sound or in silence,
in those we meet
or within our very selves.
It must be looked for with care.
And when it’s found,
it must be treasured.
And to possess it truly,
it must be shared
like bread.

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Roles people play

It’s creamy white now, she said as she stopped
pouring the ouzo over the ice in the glass.
Wow!  I never knew this could be.  It’s like
the liquor is schizophrenic, one way warm,
another way cold.
  She laughed – as did he.
She leaned toward him, kissed him full on the lips.
Too bad Kate’s not here, she gushed.  She’d love this!

Here he was with Esther, dear Kate’s good friend.
Classmates, so very different – in looks,
basic mood, way of dressing – but alike
in being open and affectionate.
Yes.  Yes, here he was.  Now he’d had them both
over for dinner, cooked them his special
spaghetti with clams oreganata.

(When he’d touched Kate passionately, she said,
No!  I love you, but not that way.  For me
you’re like an older brother.  So no, not this.

He respected her, how she felt, so he damped down
his ardor, played the role she needed him to play.
In his deepest heart he longed to be her lover.
Years later and married to others, they lost touch.)

After their dinner he took a shower
to get ready for work.  On the couch lay Esther
waiting, naked without his knowing .  The ouzo, the clams,
who knows, had made her horny.  Wrapped in a towel
he came from the hall, saw her lying there
voluptuously.  Just think of me as dessert, she said.
Her skin was creamy white like the ouzo on ice.

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Haiku

daffodil light lures
the bee to the flower’s core
our enraptured love

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

Imagine all the people…

Experience: mayhem dropping from the sky,
a silent demon bringing death and maiming.
The wedding party’s laughter – of children,
women, men – is turned into screams,
splattered brains and blood.  The screams cease.
The only sounds now: of moaning,
of the patter of dust – wafted up by the blast –
falling again to the now blood-soaked earth.
The drone hovers a moment more,
then moves away to some other target.

The CIA technician sips his latte.  Next day,
Madame Secretary utters more bombast,
filled with ironies she can’t perceive.
The Secretary of Defense praises
what dishonors us all.  The POTUS,
at a re-election rally, serenades
the cheering crowd.  An aide approaches,
whispers in his ear.  Now a far off look
transforms the Chief’s face, as in his mind
he scratches off one more name from his secret list.

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll  2012

In search of time mislaid

He doesn’t remember where the time went –
he’s simply forgotten, misplaced
all the hours writing quirky little poems
about life, about love – some risqué,
others just simple quotidian lines;
the hours reading Camus and Neruda,
Yeats and Nguyễn Du; the days constructing
the deck, finishing rooms in the basement;
the days fermenting wine, red and white,
grape and apple, date and plum, dry and sweet.
Nor does he care now – though before he did.
For now she, his wife, his one true love,
cannot remember what she said or did
five minutes before; whether her older sister
is alive or dead, which brothers are living still,
her children’s ages, even her own.  God!
He’d better gather all those memories,
like photos, black and white, and in color,
hers and his, and theirs together,
for now he must remember for them both.

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(c) Gregory V Driscoll 2012