November 4, 2015

Two poems by James G. Piatt


Wrecked buildings line the side of the street
Traumatized pieces of oxidized ecru lace,

To the side dim lights beamed upward
Lighting the dull clouds lining the evening,

I listen to the grating pulse of the night
Sense the violet shaking of the atmosphere,

I feel the thick wind gusting down the road
Observe broken windows in sad oaken facades,

Beneath my feet echoes of wandering footsteps
Hurl aromas of a wine soaked cigar into my senses,

The lingering odor of Aqua Velvet cologne
Burns the death bound moth circling my head,

A tremor rumbles down a cracked alley, as
I touch the blurry feathers of dead birds

Lurching in the eddy of a splintered landscape,
My mind searches for truth but finds only lies

Hiding in corroded iron rods in broken cement,
I close my eyes and I disappear into memories.


My thoughts are reflected in broken visions, my mind mulls over the
world in a muted awareness. I live in a fading consciousness where
images are shattered into bits of the past and present: My mind heavy
with an earthen haze, my soul lost in images of the past. I stumble
painfully down the dusty path rutted in the damp earth, realizing this
trek may be my last, I sigh in sadness. So much to do, so little time
left. Days fly by like minutes, years like months, images… lost visions
shattered into pieces of crystal upon the cobblestones of my life.

I look to my left and see a doe nibbling on fresh new grass, to my
right, a squirrel sits up with an acorn in its mouth, in front of me
lands a blue jay pecking at bugs in the grass, nonchalant of my
existence. I pause from the darkness within and my mind emerges into
the light to concentrate on the beauty of the meadow displayed in
front of me. I smell the fresh aroma of wild flowers and the damp
earth. I look to heaven and give thanks that I can enjoy the
peacefulness and beauty of this wooded place. I smile as the sun
suddenly peeks out from behind the dark clouds and places soft beams
of warmth on my shoulders.

James G. Piatt is a retired professor. He is the author of 2 poetry books “The Silent Pond,” (2012) and “Ancient Rhythms,” (2014); a third book is scheduled for release in late 2015. He has also published 3 novels, “The Ideal Society,” (2012), “The Monk,” (2013), and The Nostradamus Conspiracy, (2015), over 625 poems, 35 short stories, and 7 essays. His poem “I Am” was nominated for the 2014 Pushcart award, his poem “The Night Frog” was nominated for Best of Web 2013, and his poem “In The Meadow,” was selected as 1 of the 100 best poems of 2014.

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