ON THE TRAIL TO SOMEWHERE

Stalagmites stalactites
Tactile memories burned off cut out frozen in time with the music-
Everlong

Barnacles growing on pylon
Piled on thoughts
Of survival
Of living
A captured moment between space and time

Looking out over another sunrise
Rapt in the flocculent
Purple haze of the Orange Blossom’s
Trail of tears

The fires of Helios challenged to burn off the fog
Of another brumal night of
Longing

That tan man over there
In the shadows of the stay-weekly motel
Breathing in breathing out
Deep belly breaths
A swami
Arms raised to a sky in midwinter mourning

Whispering prayers
Whispering whispering hushed breaths
Whispering for a youthful hopefulness
Long since crushed and squeezed into the juice of a daily-breader

Now lit in orange and green
Across a hallway in O-Town’s
Last chance for
Sunshine

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, Winter in Florida, 2018

IT

Hit me like a wall of vacant water
Frozen tsunami of grey clouds brushing impasto over a sunrise
Shrieking against cordial brumal sands
Of time

Plunged on a shrinking crepuscular canvas of
Clocks melting over the bough
Of an orange tree
Leafless
A la Dali
A jamais vu?

I’ve been here before
I grew up here
In this gaping gripping gasping whole of absence
Deeper than the hole he was buried in
Now his home amongst the mossy oaks
And anamnesis of civil war.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines,
9 January 2018

 

 

FACING EAST TOWARDS THE RISING SUN

Facing east towards the rising sun
Struggling through the fog in the face of the flocculent clouds
The self-named Poet Laureate of 32805

Sang an anthem of remembrance in honour of a breathless crescent moon shaking like a scythe in the hands of a tall tan man with a Samuel Beckett face

Wise weathered worn like leather
withering in his bones
Tremble tremble tumble tremble
Like the memories of the autumn leaves on the trail of Rufus Morgan

A waterfall whispering hopefulness
Such that he is once again able
To shake off the youthful longing of his yesterdays for the haggard vision of a wee small moment of today.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines

Full Moon Frenzy

Chasing the orange-timbres of a full moon
Setting over the City skyline
Down the expressway on the way to work
Glimpse of lunacy caught like a faded memory
Retrieved for a fleeting moment:
A déjà vu ? A trompe l’oeil ?
GASP

As the acetylcholine stutters across the synapses
Guardrail barricades avoided
Steering left around the curve
Under construction
For now and
Always

The dark black clouds hanging over the eastern sky hiding the sunrise
Like an old worn tattered black trench coat wrapped around the skinny shoulders of a homeless man

Ripped paper bag wrapped around an empty bottle
Sitting in a puddle of piss on the sidewalk Under the bridge
Alone
Hopeless as another day on the Trail begins

A modern day trail of tears to
Nowhere
In the boundaries of the City
Beautiful
Division Street.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, November 4, 2017, Orlando, FL

OLD FLA HOME

So maybe, just maybe, the Poets have taught me to embrace the me
That is me
With all its mud and dirt dirt durty

My native Floridian
With all its humidity
With its divorce, its absence of fathering
Subtracted roots and substance of
Family
Of roots sinking deep
Into the mud where mollusks breathe

And the gulf breeze blowing in across the Pine Island sands of tumidity
I accept the gifts of Gulf
So bequeathed to me.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, August 5, 2017, Florida, U.S.A.

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Community of Poets

Our Kitty in the upstairs windowsill
Dry winds of low humidity
Blowing through the limbs of younger oaks
Sweeping away anxieties

And feelings of grievous heavy loss
Weighty grey feelings of winter
Of endless summers of breathless heavy air
Of sweat of toil of tonnage

Squirrels jumping freely limb to limb
Playtime recess, school’s out for squirrels
All their homework done and
Nap time in
Racing through the trees and along electric lines

Cardinals flirting and lovingly labouring
About their nest building
Gathering twigs and plastics and grass
An assemblage of protection
As the cats prowl gauging

And something so calming about
The steady unrelenting
hum hum hum
Of the pool pump gently moving
The blue waters of our artificial
Lake

Inviting cats, possums, snakes, & squirrels
For a drink and sometimes an accidental swim
A daily sweeping of the leaves before they sink effortlessly to the bottom
After a carefree float around our little lake
This little urban ecosystem
This community of Poets
And howlers at the Moon.

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, February, 2017

Kee-ahh Kee-ahh

There they were like stuffed cicada
Little artifacts of remembrance
Taxidermic witnesses of yesteryear
O’ Memory

Echoes of their summer songs in the distant horizon greeting
Sunset painted skies of glorious pinks purples oranges and reds
Colouring the lake with the paint brush strokes of the golden gods of light and lustre
Juices of tangelos sweet sour
Sour sweet
Tango across taste buds awake

Sticky fingers sticky hands pursed lips
Scents of fruit warming nostrils with joy
The buzzing bzzzssszzz of honey bees Dancing the orange blossom special
Filling ears with magical musical moments
O’ memory

Walks to the lake
Hands in the dirt
Ladders in the trees
Salty smells
Soil sweat humidity
Sowing seeds pushing out
Pains of broken family

Into
Another sunset

As the red-shouldered hawk cries
Kee-ahh kee-ahh kee-ahh
Without tears,
All day outside my window
While I’m writing this
With Snyder’s Turtle Island in my lap
And my kitten by my side
Purring Russian on the futon

O’ Memory
O’ Memory

Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, February, 2017