The Human Grid

23 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poems, Poetry

Tags

crossword, dorindaduclos.com, grid, humanity, Night Owl Poetry, poem, poetry, puzzle, society

Society is like a crossword grid
Each part of a life carefully fitting
Inside its own square
The ups intersecting with the downs
Attempting to invade a space
Meant for something else
Passageways blocked
Indicating an end
Hoping the clues will give meaning
To the numbered journal
Whose evidence cannot be so easily erased

Nana’s Kitchen

21 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poems, Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

baking, Childhood, dorindaduclos.com, family, Italian, memories, nana, Night Owl Poetry, poems, poetry

My mind often wanders back
to the days of my childhood
the enticing smells emanating
from the small apartment kitchen

Fresh baked goods
adorned the dining table
patiently waiting to be completed
as the sauce simmered slowly
in the pot on the stove

Cookies, made to look like bow ties
lay naked, waiting to be dressed
with white sugar, sifted
the powder falling like snow flakes

Meatballs and sausage
crusty Italian bread
all kinds of luscious bites
completed the dinner table

Memories of Nana
her warm smile, her caring hugs
her no nonsense ways
were life’s beginnings

Ever Wonder

19 Wednesday Mar 2014

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poems, Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

America, dorindaduclos.com, fighting, God, life, Night Owl Poetry, nuclear, poems, poetry, Russia, wake up call, War

Ever wonder
if we’ll wake up tomorrow
To find the blue sky
a cloud of ash
nothing to see
but darkness

Ever wonder
why men must prove themselves
Their egos, getting in the way
of making it right,
of filling the world
with pride…hope

Ever wonder
what will become
Of a nation
that keeps pushing God out
of schools, of work places, of life

Ever wonder
If we’ll just wake up.

The Fisherman

16 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poems, Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

bait, catch & release, dorindaduclos.com, fish, fisherman, fishing, lure, Night Owl Poetry, ocean, poems, poetry

He sits on the dock
rod and reel in his hands
a staff, raised above
the rippling waters of the ocean

He adorns his hook
with a colorful lure
casting his line into the serene
bobbing and baiting, with a splash
he awaits that first tug

They pull against each other
until the mark gives up
and the struggle ends,
as he revels in his catch

Looking into the eyes of his conquest,
he unhooks the bribe, smiles
and gently lowers the fish back into the briny deep
and the fisherman watches as
the calm returns once again