Alone - Away

This poem was created by three people each taking turns writing a section. This was circa 1987 when we did this. At first I wasn't that happy with the last part but it has grown on me so here it is in it's entirety.

---

Bathed, she squats silently on a hill
pale and strong and unmoving.
She seems content to wait

alone

Since she has no match and
forever. She is very bold and
set in her (or her creator's) ways.
Why not? Has she even a choice
or a mind or an opinion? She
seems learned in history in especial.
Though it seems fruitless knowledge.

She is frustrated, idolized, and stonehenge.

---

Left to himself (and not by his choice), he
stands, upright; facing the wind from across
empty fields.  He seems awake but his eyes are

away

Since his will has no match and cannot
move [a hill], he tries to change
his (or his creator's) path.
Why? has he lost his choice
or his mind or his opinion?  He
seems smothered in effect in circumstance.
Though it seems a weightless measure.

He is stifled, shunned and bane.

---

He is a cow.

---

(c) Norman Dziedzic Jr, Jeff Moles, James Peck

The Sea King

TheSeaKing, a photo by njdrocket on Flickr.

Coffee Shop Circumstances

Thursday night and almost full
Silently I study the view
From a "comfy chair" in the corner.
Circumstances have made me a

Regular of sorts

But I only recognize one old guy

Kibitzing too long with the barista

Wearing the same bright yellow shirt as last night.

The couple playing Munchkin

are oblivious.   Belonging more at a kitchen table but

good for them.  I envy their comfort.

Mr. Superman T-shirt commands the
study group at the large table too comfortable with the girl

to be just friends.

Random jazz fills the gaps -

The old guy bites his nails.

The man at the counter is all business while
two couples chat and flirt

away from the kids?

away from the bar?

maybe just away.

With jazz and superman and munchkins,

I drink in what I can of coffee

and time and circumstance

Bluebird

Upwards
Climbing freely
Above the barren field
I saw a bluebird in its nest
Sleeping

December's Denouement

Autumn exhales, long and slow
Spent - by the harvest
And the felling of leaves;
Tugging at the last brown stragglers.

The barren maples and birch
Palaver on winter preparations
Warily eyeing the constant conifers
Who hold tight their secrets.

Time is ever even but our division
Shifts toward the night. Drifts
From the light to algid evenings
Descending toward the solstice. 

And then, though imperceptible
Days stretch for the celebrations
Late in the season, late in the year.
December's denouement.

---

(c) 2012, Norman Dziedzic Jr.

On the Platform

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

On the platform, The CTA platform

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And it was the north/south line
And it was the Chicago Avenue Station

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And as she talked, All listened,

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And as she sang, A few drunks laughed,

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

(and everyone pretended she wasn't even there)

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

And with the rolling of the trains

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells..."

All sounds turn

into a dull rumble

anyway.

Care

          And then,
            when left to chance
       I think things move
           (in a way)
               not unlike
             water...

    [Each] Going,
                  but not knowing
             Where it must to
               fill the
                     gaps.
              And never quite
              understanding form.

            Or at least
                  leading us to
              believe it doesn't
                        Care.
                            .
                            .