Poems · poetry

Summer Cottage

“Meta“ ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Summer Cottage”

Summer cottage

Back from the sea

Sand trails worn

Salty breeze

Past noon shadows

‘Round windows sneak

Lazy naps

Blissful peace

Sunset wonder

Horizon squeeze

Barefoot stroll

Soul at ease

Poems · poetry

“Garbage Poems”

“No…You Listen” ©️ C.P. Hickey 1986

“Garbage Poems“

Garbage poems find a home

Pouring from my pen

Garbage poems, parts unknown

Not an if, but…when

Garbage lines unrefined

Jumping to the page

Garbage lines of my mind

Bring this poet shame

Garbage rhymes passing time

Poet’s praying priest

Garbage rhymes human crimes

Shepard’s saintly feast

Garbage art does depart

A poet’s metered mind

Garbage art full of heart

If the bard’s inclined

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Writing Distraction”

“Flake” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Writing Distraction”

Environment skews focus

Elusive ideas remain away

Cannot quite grasp it

Looming large but ineffable

Which is a word I learned in high school

From a young woman named Megan

Which I cannot remember if she spelled her name with or without an “h”

Old dial tone phones with Boa Constrictor cords

Kept us tethered in the wonder of an inconsequential connection

Each of us pushed towards an idea of what we were supposed to be

In spite, of the discomforts of not knowing how

I do not know that we ever kissed or held hands

But—I am certain the seeds of my later courting elegance were sown during these largely small distractions

Flailing at life

Learning to dance

Whispering into the molded plastic receiver of an avocado colored phone

Hoping against hope that my deepest secrets and desires were heard

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Outstanding”

“Keeping Watch” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Outstanding”

Sometimes it’s hard to stand out

Standing up for others that can’t

Backing down bullies’ braggadocio

There are people out to hurt others

Afraid to help others

And ignore their suffering

Enjoying the struggle

Yet—

Some still stand out against that

Hands outstretched

Elevating others

Those are the ones…

That stand out

For me, for you, for all

Standing for righteousness

Standing on

Standing up

Standing out

2023 · Poems · poetry

“Alone From Me”

“Open Air” ©️C.P. Hickey 2023

“Alone From Me”

I don’t know how to be

In a place—alone from me

Sustaining sanity

A misleading reverie

Impatience patiently

In a place—alone from me

Existential parity

Haunts this lucid waking dream

A calm collective calamity

In a place—alone from me

Isolation bursting seams

Old companions take their leave

A desert mirage fleetingly

In a place—alone from me

Unsightly vision still unseen

Alone…alone…alone from me

2022 · Poems · poetry

“Rain, Dear?”

“Moist Surface” ©️C.P. Hickey 2022

“Rain, Dear?”

Splatters drip abundant

Down sloped trolley exoskeletons

Wintering coats repel most water…

But, not all

Surgical masks punctuate the crowd

Riders on then off

The catastrophe of a wet commute

Hangs soggy on the brows of all

2022 · Poems · poetry

“Mountains Misting”

“Misty Mountains” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2022

“Mountains Misting”

Post dawn play awakens

Mountaintops pulling clouds down

Wisps of Wizard’s beards

Spied dancing among the tree line

Sun rays slicing through

Heralding the advance of day

Echoes of busy, travel valleyward

Surrounded by loud quiet

Peaceful energy vibrates

Nature reminds of its stature

Sunlight washes over peaks

Then tumbles down painting fauna

Jagged granite exposed

Playing hide and peak

Shadows finding the best spots

Tippity treetops tease vertigo

And a sky Godly blue reigns

Mountains misting distant points

Mark moments perceived in time

By the ferocious precious of human existence

What is a mountain misting to man?

What is a man to mountains misting?

2022 · Poems · poetry

“Counsel of the Crowd”

“Umbrella Academy” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2022

“Counsel of the Crowd”

Boston Common jury pool

Sitting just to wait

Impaneled peers passing by

Hundreds of thousands of judgments

Rendered unconsciously

The horde wills itself

Despite small protests

Barrister bums profess innocence

Regardless of their guilt

Happy clams waiting to be plucked

Away from an unjust motion

To dismiss outright, doubt

Just is

Thumbs are on the scales

Just is

Only pretending to be blind

Just is

She’s in it for the handicapped placard

Just is

Courting the illusion

Writing to sit

Peers passing disaffected

Pooling common

Just is

2022 · Poems

“Wind Phone”

“Winding Wind” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2020

“Wind Phone”

I had heard tales of a wind phone

Somewhere in Japan

Talk to your dead loved

They said

I bought a plane ticket

I flew on the wind

I found the wind phone

It was somewhere in Japan

I waited in the queue

My turn finally came

I approached the booth with trepidation

It was white

That is to say the booth was dreadful white

And there was a small neatly organized table

Organized in precision in only the way a small Japanese table could be

Upon it was a phone

Black and dull

What was once shiny glossy

Passed through thousands upon thousands of hands

Hand to ear

Mouth to word

Word to air

Not ears…

Wind phone!

Talk to your dead loved

They said

Only, I chose differently

I didn’t talk to my Father

Dead these eight years

I didn’t talk to my Mother

Dead these twelve years

I didn’t even speak to the baby we lost between my first son and my first daughter

Perhaps, his name was Hieronymus

No, I spoke to no dead loved

But, I put my words into the wind phone

Hoping the wind would find the ears of my second son, Paul

He is minimally verbal

But, luckily for us, more verbal than most

I try to persuade the wind with my silver tongue

Persuade it to unlock the mystery of my second son

Who often releases words on the wind,

Hoping those words unlock some type of understanding between us

As I look out over a Japanese valley

The wind carries my words away

Not to be heard,

Nor understood

The wind phone holds me silent

As I wait for a connection

Whether my second son was there

Or ten thousand miles away,

Our words are carried over the wind

And, pass us by.

Blowing fierce into the stratosphere

Carrying our DNA back to the stars that we came from

Out to somewhere where our dead loved

Are rejoined in a Big Bang connection

As I hung up the phone

I looked backward at the queue,

And felt shame for my wind blasphemy

I had to try

Before I myself become dead loved

I hope they can forgive me—

I hope Paul can forgive me—

I then thought to myself…

That maybe sometimes not being able to talk to your dead loved

Is not as bad as not being able to talk to your alive loved

2022 · NaPoWriMo

“Father Dagda”

“Turnkey” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2022

“Father Dagda”

Father Dagda

Who could blame ya?

As violence begets pain.

Pirate’s plunder

Torn asunder

Your family’s gravy train.

No way of showing,

All are growing.

Soon you’ll be alone.

Father Dagda

Must keep rowing,

Despite a tide so low.