A stone dropped

in a stream dances in ripples
through the shade of overhead branches

for a few moments
the world has lost its balance

softly it recedes and it becomes
a vibrating silence as water again

flows beneath the weight of air

poem is playground

poem is filled with banal beggars
words of rain and thunder
with seasons of drought
burning with compassion
and warring with the senses

poem wars with cynical reason
while seeking the streets mystics
dream of with such simplicity
the words of poems written
centuries ago reappear in poem

poem sings from closed windows
a music small and destitute sounding
deeply like the ocean through glass
scrutinized line by line for depth
for poem to do what it is not able

Special Ed Committee

in a presence of intelligence
scrutinized measured algebraized
then entered on a spreadsheet
to be graphed and judged by a jury
of their elders without one small
lighted flame in any of them
the darkness is overwhelming

the child's gifts unknown
far above and beyond

Turning 60

a trilateral description

It is humbling
thrilling
and deflating
to understand
the absolute truth
of having slept
through twenty years
of life.

There are tracings
of the depths
vaguely
illuminated
while awake.

Never fully
apparent.

Each year to come
I will sleep
for four months per.

person

at Walmart
with their sleeping bag

sits

people walk around them

ignored
ignoring

a bookmark in a bible

for many years it's been on the same page
in the same thrift store on the same shelf
I've seen it every time I visit and I wonder
if I'd be invading the privacy of the original
reader if I peeked to see what they marked
so many years ago and I think they may still
be alive and I could call them up - we could
discuss their choices and they could ask me
questions I don't want to hear and discuss
my choices and I know bookmarks in bibles
are really love notes between the reader
and their creator. And I move on to see if
any clothing my size has come in this week.

the painter

on the river walk
sketches a face
near a flower
in sunlight

the flower grows
magic on patio

barges float
by easily

beneath whispers

the heart alone
has taken charge
thoughts fill too slowly
prayer acts as referee
between the heart and mind


the dance alone
has vanished bright
thoughts fill too darkly
prayer acts as laughing joy
between the feet and mind

struggle

flowers open in polluted wind
searching for bees to continue
their raving beauty each year

music

removes desires
to know what is missing
it is all there

Amazon author page

R.Soos