Thursday
Jun302011

Poems by Joan Heron and Casey Dorman

TWO POEMS BY JOAN HERON

IN BEAUTY DO I WALK

winter air so frosty

like cool water in my throat

 

snow deep and silent

relentless bright intensity

 

trees firm and stately

homage to the ascending sun

 

coyote fearlessly nimble

on his way across my path

 

squirrel’s tail a furry plume

on an endless sea of white

 

my breath a steamy noise

solitary rhythm of life

 

ice in glassy patches

on the rutted road

 

another morning walk

my way to greet the day.

 

Joan Heron

 

WHEN GIANTS REIGNED

In a land of plenty

where people worked and loved

a few hungered for more and more.

And the few, clever and tenacious,

devoured families, towns and cities.

Their slogans paved the way-

More options! Better service! Lower fees!

And the few gobbled and gobbled until they became giants.

A merger here, a dying business there, a hundred more families        

            in poverty.

A Patron of Small wonders: “What more does the giant need?

This is far beyond food, water, shelter and love.”

But the giants keep growing and ruling and squashing all in their 

            way.

When will it end?

The reign of the giants.

 

Joan Heron

Joan Heron, a regular contributor to Lost Coast Review is the author of Chai Budesh? Anyone for Tea? A Peace Corps Memoir of Turkmenistan (2008) and A Girl Grows Up in New York City (2011), both published by Publish America and available on Amazon. A Girl Grows Up in New York City is reviewed in this issue's Book Review section,

TWO POEMS BY CASEY DORMAN

U-Dub, 1965

 

We had such hope then, or at least I did.

Leaving the library, barefoot along the Ave

Taking Sartre seriously and nothing for granted

 

Cherry blossoms populated the Quad

Dead Roethke sang from the wood

While Dylan sang through his nose

 

Rage in the streets and love in the parks

Angels in rags and satyrs with Afros

Cymbals and drums and garlanded babies

 

Bergson and Marcel, Husserl and Heidegger

Beckett and Pinter, Camus and Genet

Coffee and cigarettes, hashish and beer

 

A world paused in its gyre, we all held our breath

A moment suspended, poised in becoming

Certain that we would determine the outcome

 

The day after yesterday drawing to end

Slogans still echo inside of my head

When will the dreams stop and what happens then?

 

Vietnam

Asian eyes are meant to be seen

Silhouette mirrors  the land

High cheekbones hearken thoughts of nobility

Legs long and slender, she glides when she walks

 

A shy gaze looks down or up in obeisance

Amber and Jasmine suffuse the air

Ebony hair falls straight past the shoulders

The music of birds is heard when she talks

 

Casey Dorman

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Reader Comments (1)

Driver's Seat

He's on a roll,
In the driver's seat.
Look at him go,
Running the heat.

She's on the move,
In the driver's seat.
Look at her rock,
To the music beat.

It's your turn,
Go to the street.
You're now in,
The driver's seat.

Craig Costello

March 12, 2013 | Unregistered CommenterCraig Costello

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