“The Quiet Man”

“The Quiet Man”

“The Quiet Man”

Working hours on the day,

Commute seemed long and drawn.

Intentions dreamt and paved the way,

For moments long past gone.

Laughter lilts and lingers on,

Despite a darker sky.

It’s much less blue than once before,

No reason, sense, or why?

Traveled with, for much the way,

A journey shared in common.

Absence carves a heart dismayed,

Off-stage, but not forgotten.

Occasion brings on thoughts of you,

Long memory’s pure insistence.

A life lived well is never through,

Imbued by love’s persistence.

Quietly, a Quiet Man,

Walks through life majestic.

Laughter lilts and lingers on,

Remembering poetic.

“Bus Riding”

“Pole Position II” ©️C.P. Hickey 2019

“Bus Riding”

Is it fare?

No, really is it fair?

Bus riding folks,

Commute shares.

Empty seats,

Sticky floor.

I feel as if,

I’ve rode before.

Start and stop,

Call bell rings.

Shopping carts,

Stroller things.

Missed my stop,

Traffic jam.

Late for work,

That’s who I am.


“Facenest” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2019



a place of rest.

For lips, and birds,

and errant words.

A barbed wire home,

Trapped wooden comb.

Oil and wax,

Chin jumping jacks.

Wild, face wildfire.

Rugged twine, muck and mire.

Bristle brush,

Full enough?

Red, grey, gold, white.

Crumbliest crumb-catching delight.

Rusty blades,

And dormant cream.

Naked cheeks,

Aftershave sheen.

Whiskers almost whisked away,

Some later time, but not today.

Tickle waists,

And napes of neck.

A hairy man?

Why not? Heck,

A passive growth,

Upon my face.

Groomed and tuned,

Carefully arranged.

“Reading Stories”

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“Reading Stories

Reading stories,

lost in words.

A portable pastime,

Much preferred.

Traveling time,

Unraveling plot.

A mystery veil,

What is, and not.

Pages deep.

Chapters wide.

Covers contain,

Worlds inside.

So find a spot.

A cozy nook.

Take a trip.

Crack a book.