Barry DeCarli
like father, like son
wanting to pour poetry
from a bottle
of Pinot Grigio
to uncork the perfect pairing
of words and emotion
in an untitled document
trying to escape the collision
of headache and hope with
the right metaphor
stoking my muse there in the wine
my poem scrapes against the easiness
of inkjet black on white
he stood unsteadily
the car was his vehicle
driven with a practiced recklessness
he sought to slake a more primal thirst
I never understood
as the bourbon burned his throat
then softly drenched
his drought of dreams
for a while he found forgiveness
fulfillment there in the bottle
his Oldsmobile keyed with barbed wire
while taking out the farmer’s fence
there was nothing easy about his poetry
of rubber and speed
steel and noise
Barry DeCarli
April 15, 2010 (6)
Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli
funeral
first feeling the heat of emotion
tears flowing
being held back
a choked-up gratitude
a misplaced relief
that the dirge
the solemn music is not for you
shaking sweaty hands
kissing blurry-eyed faces
rouged cheeks grazing
stale perfume stealing breath
touching but distantly
waiting for the open air
the cumulus shadows
the shafts of god light
through the pines
a last prayer in the cemetery
then a chance to have a drink
loosen a tie, wipe off smeared make-up
proffer a smile
dare to laugh…
Barry DeCarli
August 13, 2010
Copyright 2010 Barry DeCarli