The Appointment

The Appointment long poem

Photo by C.Y.R.I.L.

Naked in shade,
feet tough as alligators
even to the steel-belted
shreds flicking at weed-tips,
the male body knows
little peace: it is either
a machine for cocking
and throwing, heaving
emblem of a beast
or a tub of sourdough starter
soft, bubbling,
effervescing a stink
ripe and tangy

Alone beyond
the civilization smokescreen
hiding from the sun
unafraid of penile dangle
who might be offended.
as tall as a man
ready to hunt, hands empty
no spear necessary
no need to seek wisdom
in a smoky cave
to hear murmured words
which hold no surprise:
you fight until you die.

spiraling inward
letting bees catch
in shoulder-hair mane
seeking neither food
nor shelter nor woman
enjoying muscles and breath
without competition.
every color is brighter
the poisonous berries
beautiful on the bush
the urge to crush them
onto a bark palette
and paint elemental symbols
on the skin is intense
but unnecessary

a rendezvous was set
just as geese know
when to wing it south.
the sparse forest darkens
thin shadow joining –
a giant’s leg being knit
rising above the canopy
straight above neighboring peaks
blotting out stars.
the man stands
at his father’s feet
looks up to take his measure
as alone as he’ll ever be

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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Superb. Wonderfully exotic. Well executed. Unique balance.


Appointment With Disappointment

Appointment With Disappointment long poem

That Life is a gift hardly we realise It Life is undoubtedly a Beauty that we know but we see it as murky We rush to get appointment but end up with disappointment Outstanding was I in studies Missed being


Appointment short poem

If you are reading this letter, Then your fear has now turned into anger. Our appointment on 26th March… For my absence did not emerge. I wish I could imagine how you felt. Lover’s tears when his beloved has sailed?