Winter Solstice, 64°04′N 21°57′W
by REV. JOSÉ M. TIRADO
The hard wind’s
timed winter chime
wears down the
silly snowman
with the New York Yankees cap
on the hill.
Below him, green fingers push through the
newly made
rain holes,
in the snow.
Above, Venus peers from behind
her waving cotton cloud-skirt
in the dark cold,
trailing threads of fragile
gray-white.
Seen through the glassy
smooth ice,
the black tar path winds
into the Christmas-lit town
down the hill,
cars on the balance-act roll
cautiously down to the docks.
Street lights stubbornly resist
the gusts, mute, stiffly
revealing nothing.
Tomorrow, Time will stand still
with the sorely-missed sun.
Rev. José M. Tirado is a poet, priest, psychologist, and political writer living in Iceland. His articles and poetry have been featured in CounterPunch, The International Journal of Transpersonal Studies, Dissident Voice, The Endless Search, Op-Ed News, and others. He can be reached at jm.tirado@yahoo.com.
Ethan Decides to Enlist
by ROBERT A. DAVIES
He kept his nose clean
and kept his opinions to himself.
That’s what one does when there’s a War Going On.
Or a make-believe threat.
After years of trying
Ethan could get a job.
He’d passed the military test required in school.
They told him of the skills he would gain.
A cyberattack had disabled the war machines
so much work by hand
and the service was out of hands.
Ethan liked being a uniformed soldier
fighting for the people’s freedom
though he knew meddling abroad
had nothing to do with freedom
His buddies never came home
but what was left of Ethan somehow did
and he said “I have seen.”
For a long time he said only, “I have seen.”
Robert A. Davies lives in Portland, OR. His forthcoming book is Melons and Mendelssohn. He can be reached at rjdavies3@comcast.net.
A Dirty Bronx Snowfall
by SAUL LANDAU
That dull black sky
Unleashed elusive white pellets
Boys screamed with delight
Grabbed sleds adults sighed
Tomorrow that downhill sledding
Meant business closed mother
Worried snow would stain
The dress the wedding
Plans would go awry
I watched belly flopping
Friends hurtling downward from
My window above why
I asked mother can’t
I go after lunch
She said shaking her
Head calling my aunt
To lament the gravity
The falling snow comparing
God’s breakfast flakes to
Forms of human depravity
My eagle eyes searched
For moving objects on
Bleached landscapes far below
I sat there perched
Feeling depth of chagrin
Longing to be Teddy Milt
Jack or Hesh feeling
Flakes dissolve on skin
The bus made squeals
Air escaped the boy
Silently swerved to miss
The slow moving wheels
I didn’t hear screams
Snow flakes froze in
Their path before red
Trickled later in dreams
I froze that scene
The sled slid forever
Downward then I awoke
Snow had become unclean
Saul Landau is the author of A Bush and Botox World, published by CounterPunch/AK Press.
Editorial Note: (Please Read Closely Before Submitting)
To submit to Poets’ Basement, send an e-mail to CounterPunch’s poetry editor, Marc Beaudin at counterpunchpoetry@gmail.com with your name, the titles being submitted, and your website url or e-mail address (if you’d like this to appear with your work). Also indicate whether or not your poems have been previously published and where. For translations, include poem in original language and documentation of granted reprint/translation rights. Attach up to 5 poems and a short bio, written in 3rd person, as a single Word Document (.doc or .rtf attachments only; no .docx – use “Save As” to change docx or odt files to “.doc”). Expect a response within one month (occasionally longer during periods of heavy submissions).
Poems accepted for online publication will be considered for possible inclusion of an upcoming print anthology.
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