Tyler Matthew

Tyler Matthew Mar 2020

Life is always a circle.
From darkness                                      we are born,
eyes wide                                                            with wonder.
The wildness                                                                  in us stirs
as we crawl and                                              walk and then run
down                                                                        the arc,
blind to all                                                                 that comes.
Life is                                                                always a circle.
To darkness                                                         we return,
curious now of                                   what lies ahead,
running, walking,                            crawling blindly
into Death's                               womb,
  closing to a point.

I know, it's not a perfect circle. I've never done a shape poem, **** it.

Tyler Matthew Mar 2020

Untitled

The past is like a leaky faucet:
you always hear the drip,
though you learn to tune it out,
eventually.

Or hire a plumber.

Quickwrite

Tyler Matthew Mar 2020

Ode to a Girl (The Artist)

Once I saw not color.
My dreams were black & white.
The days, it seemed, were endless
and void of light.

Then I met a young girl
with rainbows in her eyes,
bringing hue to my life
and to the skies.

Quickwrite

Tyler Matthew Mar 2020

A Ghost in the Yard

"I cannot go back,"
I think to myself driving alone,
early afternoon, Rt. 7 North.
The last time I visited
the house where I grew up,
I felt like a ghost
there in the yard,
as if something - some secret misfortune -
were tugging at my sleeve,
begging me to stay, to remember.
A secret not my own,
but one I have spent my whole life forgetting.
A secret as old as the great maple tree
under which I used to play and pretend.
That tree no longer stands,
though its branches remain
scattered about the yard,
causing me to remember.

Quickwrite

Tyler Matthew Feb 2020

Accountability (In Response to an Assertion Made Here)

Harvey Weinstein is not in jail because of *******,
nor did the Devil make him do it.
Harvey Weinstein is in jail because of power.
He felt he had it - all men feel they have some.
Yet, Harvey Weinstein is the kind of man
who knows not restraint, who knows not respect,
whose little taste of power, he felt, should
be on the tongues of the women whose lives he polluted.
******* is not the impetus of abuse,
just as a gun will never be a murderer,
just as the Devil will never be anything but an excuse.
Men are their own devils.

Feb 2020

Whit Howland

Parachute Jump, Coney Island

In the mind it still
rusts

the metal skeleton
of my youth

as I plunge
again and again
into memories

with images
flashing
behind my eyes

and I struggle
only to remember

the good stuff

Whit Howland © 2020

A crude word painting with a straight forward message.

#blackmountainpoet