Poems About Hurricane Irene, ” When Storms Cry Out, Cry In “

Poems About Hurricane Irene

When Storms Cry Out, Cry In
To the beach
she was called to bless
the lifeguard shack
anchored in the sand

The lifeguards had laughed, expecting some incense,
hadn’t known her son had drowned, not known
her hope was jettisoned in the ocean, while
she had searched for potions of resurrection

She had begun her vocation with grit,
had tried to summon any spirit of his
when other ghosts came in the wash
and she had never seen him again —
had tumble-down cried out
cried in, for
her son had drowned

As a joke, to the shack
the lifeguards summoned her, a
psychic of some sort, they thought
the night before the storm

But she had cried in
cried out, must have known their guilt

No one would boast
they had seen the ghost,
though charming Irene
was a namesake

She’d stay alone for meditation
and chanting into the waves, only
the eldest shuddering when she said,
“I’ll lock up when I’m done.” He
remembered the one trapped in the shack
in the storm heard only as “THE ONE”

She went up to the roof
to look at the stars
and they departed with their vodka and beer

Irene heard howls from the bathroom
as foam surrounded the shack
a smell of seaweed and of a fisherman’s corpse

A psychic of some sort
she was washed out to sea,
crying out
crying in

Come to the light, Mom
he said, and

now every foamy year
with seaweed and corpses
a shack and a lifeguard are lost

—Douglas Gilbert

Under The Bed August 23, 2011

Under The Bed

Didn’t want to look too soon
under the bed in the afternoon

Seems there were creatures stuck under my bed
some brooding intruders bigger than rats with
paws shaking and rocking my bed, and
I needed to find a flashlight or a stick

How bold these dogs or raccoons
who seem to find room to roll a bed

Man on radio
said to staff
did you feel that

This just in:
Earthquake

Oh good —
nothing to worry about

—Douglas Gilbert

Reference: ” An International Poem Of Peace “

Excerpts from “An International Poem Of Peace” — The Peaceful Pub, poetry forum

WE ADDED TWO 4-LINE ITEMS TO THE COMMUNITY POEM “An International Poem Of Peace — Please Join In” http://bit.ly/PubPoem
One piece was towards the beginning and one near the end. Excerpt:

“ …and on that mountain top so close to God,
I call His name and pray that peace will reign (Jean Lewis, Wales, U.K.).
Somewhere Love reigns so puffy and fluffy
like majestic cloud, its cottony dream, and it
rains upon the planted seeds, those needs
eluding birds and bullet drops (Doug — New York)

Raise your hands to the heavens and
pray for peace that all mankind will know it, (debbenson Shelton, Ct)…
…I’ve only heard the distant thunder of war drums,
and only seen its ghostly specter from afar.
If a louder sound is needed to drown the thundering herd,
let Peace’s Clarion song become a shout, a wail, a constant vigil to quell the angry march. (Glen, Kentucky, N.A.)
Pray we play together in awe, if tyrants fall and
rebels remember who they were. Armed
with tickle plans, I have a feather —
come ye laugh with me in flighty dreams of remembrance (Zawmb’yee, Sacred Quarters)

to raise our voices and sing as one
it can be done(susan, toronto, ontario)… ”

[ For full poem see http://thepeacefulpub.yuku.com/topic/34231/An-International-Poem-of-Peace-Please-Join-In ]

There Are No Tears In The Desert

There Are No Tears In The Desert

She went out into the desert to look at the stars
but the cactus pricked her, and
the scorpion bit her

I am shaking like a rattle snake
to warn her away, but

in the joy of a familiar
she doesn’t mind my
apparition of friendship

I brought her dessert:
pecan pie for the desert
gin with lime, and a sweet tart

She likes her rattle snakes, and
though the slither of our entanglements is poison
we welcome death in dry times
rather than floods of sorrow

—Douglas Gilbert

Butter and Flutter and other mistakes: ” Sitting on Flowers ” , poem by Douglas Gilbert

Sitting On Flowers

I’ve buttered my toast again
though butter is bad, fluttering in saturated fat
because silly names make me fly
like a butterfly irrelevant on honey toast

There is some memory in toasted bread with marmalade
that once was served on a family outing
as if this treat were meant to taste like a love
too difficult to speak, an indoor substitute for
the flights of the bumble bee and the butterfly
because humans are too heavy to sit on flowers

—Douglas Gilbert

Singing

Singing

There is a time in the morning
when no one is mourning on the beach,
when the sun is up enough to the muggers
to show that the park patrol buggies are about
and kooks on the beach have no money

I stand in front of the ocean, and
shout a poem, or even sing a song
as if I were famous

I imagine the seagull sings my praise, but
really he wants a crumb, and
so do I
—Douglas Gilbert

Singing To The Empty Void

Singing To The Empty Void

There is a time in the morning
when no one is mourning on the beach,
when the sun is up enough to the muggers
to show that the park patrol buggies are about
and kooks on the beach have no money

I stand in front of the ocean, and
shout a poem, or even sing a song
as if I were famous

I imagine the seagull sings my praise, but
really he wants a crumb, and
so do I

—Douglas Gilbert