I live with my wife in a northern exurb of Westchester. My poems derive from human nature and my mind has been shaped by years of pop culture: countless hours of music, films, television, news, and more. Through teaching, I get to share my love of literature and the importance of responsible journalism. My poems and short stories have been published in numerous journals. My first collection, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press), can be found on Amazon.com. A chapbook, Memory Marries Desire, will be out momentarily. It can be ordered at FinishingLinePress.com.
There’s something hearty and delicious,
about that delectable comfort
that brings warmth
on a chilly snowy winter’s eve.
The creamy broth is sweet nectar,
a smooth white sea upon which ride
surprise spoonfuls of tasty clams,
potatoes, onions, and more.
The delightful buttery garlic bisque
does more than merely quell
the pangs of hunger,
it transports one to the
rough tides of the fisherman’s
salty rough hewn life,
the rumble and roil
of the fickle Atlantic
and the deep contentment
to be found back in the company
of loved ones serving up
a bowlful of warm welcome
on this New England wharf.
Dear Frozen Banana
From that relationship this habit formed,
along with a host of other private improvements.
Now I always remove hands from tables,
and politely respond to any and all requests.
She knew this particular method works best,
waiting ‘til the fruit is ripe or overripe,
peeling carefully, then cutting thick even chunks
to place on a parchment-lined cookie sheet.
These disparate pieces freeze a half hour,
then are stored in plastic freezer bags,
at the ready for daily shakes, smoothies,
or any time such sweetness is called for.
If only life’s sweet moments could be similarly saved,
that first kiss stolen behind the library stacks,
that first dance together, the discovery of how
bodies work so gracefully, passionately as one.
Children and animals were drawn to her radiance.
For a time, we felt so beatifically happy and ripe,
sharing that small apartment off-campus.
She made our messy belongings presentable.
After senior year, we had gone our separate ways,
She on to graduate school three states away,
while I pursued the journalistic internship,
realizing later how much I missed her brilliance.
The radio this morning said that in ten years
bananas as we know them will become extinct,
a result of genetic altering and destructive blight.
This gave me extra reason to stop and think.
Now every banana’s tropical taste lingers,
a sweet reminder of those jubilant times
when the world was young, impossibly simple,
and she was still the sweetest part of my life.
Sift through thoughts and/or emotions,
Choose carefully from among a near infinity of words
painstakingly suited to this particular purpose.
Arrange and wonder, play and ponder.
Read, then rearrange.
Tinker further, or alternately, let sit for a time.
Flavor with the employment of form, meter, rhyme,
and/or literary conventions (optional).
Recite out loud,
Rearrange further until approaching a hint of some satisfaction,
At this point you might be ready to present.
Serves from one to millions.
Reap, Sow, Reap
This impromptu party
of a late September afternoon,
twenty or so gathered together
under a proud and solitary tree
after a long day’s sharp machete work
with hunched backs in hot sun.
Threshing, tying off into bundles
the harvested stalks of wheat,
we have earned the right
to drink this wine,
to slurp this hearty gruel,
to reinvigorate aching muscles
toward completion of the lower field,
racing against the coming sunset.
2016 Gary Glauber
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