Poems
by R. Gerry Fabian

 

 

Standing On The Corner Of Love And Denial

 

There’s a raw winter wind

slapping at my face and chapped arms.

I have crossed the detour

invoking all the highway penalties.

Here the road has been torn and graded.

It is the intersection

where the two of you

paused last evening

in the red traffic light glow.

 

On the other side is

a temporary yellow YIELD sign

with more than one interpretation;

neither having to do with

visiting your mother.

 

 

 

 

 

Differed Resolution

 

When it became almost obvious,

our love was burnt out.

When all the special segments

that tightly bond love

snapped and cracked

and turned to decayed pine;

it just settled into

which one of us

would light the final match,

I thought you would do it.

 

Instead of placating

the apparent ash and soot removal,

I inundated you with small items:

softer kisses, unexpected hand holding,

mixed flower bouquets for no reason,

your favorite strawberry marmalade muffins,

and several scented candles

in every room.

 

Thirty years later,

as the fire smolders

and needs occasional stoking,

I often wonder

how you planned

to do it.

 

 

 

 

So Overwhelmed

 

Twice in my life.

 

Not the standard

birth of a child,

promotion, publication

or financial reward;

more a moment

so unexpected

that between choked gasps

and welling tears,

if only internal,

they are brain-stained

forever.

 

So deeply personal

I cannot talk

with anyone about them.

They haunt me

with their presence.

 

Just once more

I want to be …

 

 

 

 

 

Patsy Cline

Confession Cinquain

 

You left

your soft, silk scarf

more than three days ago.

The scent drives me just a little

crazy.

 

 

 

 

 

Chasing Them Old Blues Down The Road

 

I go into Donleavy’s Tap Room

order a Bass ale and light a cigarette.

Donleavy’s is the last bar in town

where you can smoke inside.

The doctor told me not to smoke any more

but he didn’t say to smoke any less

so, there you have it.

The bar if full and the music mostly alien.

I go there now when I’m feeling slow and low.

 

I like to look at the women

and imagine a younger me -

‘charming and disarming’ them.

A few ‘flirt and skirt’ with me

as they know I am way past any danger.

 

I finish my first ale and order another one

knowing I will pay a heavy price tomorrow.

Tomorrow is overrated however

as it eventually turns into today.

 

A woman wearing a deep V blue top

and what looks like black panty hose smiles at me.

In my youth, she would have been in her underwear.

No one gives her a second glance except me.

I smile back at the ‘underwear’ woman.

The glimmer of my youth that has never been lost

stirs and begins to plot and I feel much better.

 

As I finish my second beer,

the older me, who I am now,

knows it’s time to go home, let out the dog

and stand across the toilet for five minutes.

 

Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.