Category: Poems

Home but still there
Scaling rippled mountains
Like tigers’ shoulders
Charged and powerful
Remorseless and cold

T. Weeks
(A response to “A Christmas Greeting“)

Was it love at first sight
The falsest and ficklest of feelings
Or was it a week’s affair
Hardly less fleeting
Where in I fell in love
With this island between
Icy seas and tormented valleys

A holy temple for gold diggers
Of every generation to stake their claim
Among jewelry stores and bars
Selling knickknacks and conquest
To well-fed travelers
Who wander off floating castles

Where pilgrims and scoundrels
Find summer refuge
Taking their sacrament with the land
With boots and packs and fishing poles
Seeking alms from the tourists
To fund their worship
Of the towering wild

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Old Chants“)

Everywhere a trail goes
Someone has walked
Every peak with a name
Has been climbed
Forests called parks
Are amusement for the masses
But here I see forgotten mountains
Faceless valleys
Falls with no clever names
The wild wilderness
Void of destinations
After a trek out there
How do you tell anyone
Where you’ve been?

-T. Weeks
(A response to “To the Sun-Set Breeze“)

Work life
Life work
Work’s life
Life’s work
Work in life
Life in work
Work as life
Life as work
Work by life
Life by work
Work or life
Life or work
Work on life
Life on work
Work for life
Life for work
Work and life
Life and work
Work about life
Life about work
Work around life
Life around work

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Interpolation Sounds“)

Our plane dips down into the clouds
Gray sky-foam clumping at a shore
Tiny windows leave room for dull eyes
To clumsily stab at the mist
But they never make a dent

Then the currents shift
Clouds slide back into another sky
And we see

Dark hills and proud ridges
Glaciers twist like untamed sinews
White whisps gossip with the trees
And snicker about our butter-knife eyes
Our inadequacy to comprehend
This unfathomable impenetrable
Dark pulsing Lovecraftean ocean
From our cotton-poly dock

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Bravo, Paris Exposition“)

The cats whole body yawns
For the sixth time in an hour
Stretching it’s will
To get off the couch for a minute
And whimpers for its bowl to be filled
Does it even like this food
An irrelevant question
That full-claw effort to standup
Deserves a treat
At least it thinks so
Leave me alone cat
Your whining is interrupting my relaxation

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Long, Long Hence“)

On a still summer evening
Bullfrogs soak in a pond
Swelling the sky and trees
With their approving syncopation

There is no smoother pond
Croaks one to the others
There is no brighter moon
Croaks one to the others
There are no dearer companions
Croaks one to the others
There is no finer chorus
Croaks one to the others

And on they went
Strumming the chord of that still night

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Old Age’s Ship & Crafty Death’s“)

Across the field
Someone walks
Discarded leash hanging in one hand
Best friend bounding across the grass
Both lapping up the morning
They’ve taken this route a thousand times
At first tied together
To walk together
Now together
They enjoy the same park
And the same path
And a whole new walk

-T. Weeks
(A response to “An Ended Day“)

Fat bodies and starving souls
Drift empty-eyed from station to station
Nonplussed by the selection of pizza toppings
They’re hungry for something new
For something to change
Anything
They wait in line for their number to be called
Ready for the plate
Credit card in hand
There’s nothing to fill

T. Weeks
(A response to “The Pallid Wreath“)

Sheltering shelters within shelters
And so on into the secret parts
Lost for safekeeping
Shut in for housekeeping
Painted dangerous by mystery
So let’s throw them all open
Door after door together

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Apparitions”)