Poetry

March 1, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Richard Donnelly

 

 

INTERLUDE

 

 

that bench outside the Laundromat it

got some use from me today

each week on Saturday afternoon

the street dropping down to the sea

I wait there in torn jeans

the winter sun on my face the slow progress

of the day with nothing before me just

the simple weekly requirement

the bench the door cars slowed by

the day the lot like a ticking clock

those are pretty days with nothing to do

the night an empty room

the street all of it

waiting for me the wait an occupation

in itself a pleasure a vast and empty memory

 

 

 

 

 

 

NIGHT STORM

 

 

one night it must have snowed

and my mountain

in the morning

glowed white after the all-night

storm which only meant rain

to us

 

my mountain has snow I thought

I watched it a long time

a desert mountain

it became magical

less mine and further away than

ever before

 

 

 

 

 

 

PATIO

 

 

I spent time on your patio you

didn’t know that

because I didn’t tell you

 

I counted the bricks

I think I know all about your flowers

 

you might think while you’re at work

I would do something else you

are wrong

I love you and

it is good to have secrets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Donnelly

Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota USA, the ice fishing capital of the world. And we’re okay with that. Mr. Donnelly’s first book, The Melancholy MBA, is published by Brick Road Poetry Press.

0 Comments

No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply