HELLO SEPTEMBER!

He left a bit of himself inside
Along with his shadow,
Umber-ish greys of yesterday

Peeking through the sublime mould of today
Like a scholar of the school of Structuralism

Pieces of concrete and the separate elements thereof:

Water, aggregate-rock, sand, gravel
And Portland cement

He’d become CONCRETE

And the

Shadowy dust landing on frames of Monet’s lilies
And
Rothko’s room of 9

Blown away by the lusts of patrons
For something more
Beyond the humma drumma of
Daily life cat call whistling
On Tottenham Road

Slacks set over the ankle
Sporting colourful
Socks painted over
Cloudy internal voices:
Distant

A memory to be returned to as the hours turned into days turned into months turned into

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, September 1, 2017

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Well-Grilled Life

Don’t turn the steaks more than once-some of the only advice he ever gave me and why I always think of him when I fire up the grill

Watching a green leaf pushed by a dead brown one across the surface
Of the pool tonight

An early Autumnal sunset of pinkish orange pushed out by purple rains
Sweeps across the quickening sky
As cicadas’ machinistic trumpets announce the darkness cloaking another day

And him there, standing over there, by the grill
Sharing his sage advice:
Turn once, not twice to
Live a well-grilled life.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, September 23, 2017-September 26, 2017.