Timothy Shay Poetry Post 36

BONSAI POEM

(for Pauline Lamb)

BONSAI

we are a small tree in a tight pot
if our roots could sustain growth from arthritic posture
we would grow
but stasis holds us shaped in several fists
tangled where we cannot be seen
where amnesty international
cannot locate us
where the handcuff envelopes the hand

BONSAI

if you broke my pot
exploded my illusion
i would be just a little shrub in struggle
not this distant noble oak
on ocean edge
appearing to be swayed by wind
in windless room
of bamboo - cubed light - dustless order

BONSAI

brain in skull
ticks under pressure
tells the green it cannot see
do not move too far
or we become a babel
joined by flesh
but striven by language and element

BONSAI

uncertain is the word but i won't use it again
this clay vessel contains it
and darkness describes it
there must be something behind those eyes
in the dark
and the breakdown - the descent - sees us shattered
several chunks like cupped hands
catch the water - the beach rain
a lake licking at our roots
tendrils exposed - pink and thinking


.......

timothy shay poetry post 35


bethlehem


there was one small town with romance at every bend
we all passed through once
we saw each other there

my grandfather murdered himself
my father murdered himself
i am from a long line of murderers
should i not carry on the tradition?

there was one small town with beautiful flesh in all the windows
we all watched as the perspiring bodies danced
their circus dance
we felt each other's warm breath on the night air

my grandfather was a prisoner to ships that sailed in bottles
my father was a prisoner of meaningless smoke signals
i am just a prisoner - no secret delineations

and in the night i see you walking
looking for a map
looking for the mail that will announce it
looking for godiva on some multiseated horse
looking for a saviour to pin it on
looking for some bethlehem and those angels
that walking around with mules and virgins
look like common men


.......