Writings by Thomas Radwick. Mostly poetry and lyrics. t_radwick@yahoo.com

30 Haiku

A raven’s raspy
laughter overhead—I can’t
find him in the sky

Food court at lunch hour—
man shouting and gesturing
at a laptop screen

Big plump sun pushes
the roof of a hazy sky—
slow yawning morning

*

Glittering cars parked
in neat rows along the beach—
smell of grilled sausage

Still and silent by
the windy afternoon beach—
glittering parked cars

A sunlit garden—
the porch light’s night watch ending
with faint orange glow

*

Foggy morning beach—
briskly stretching woman with
pink fluorescent cap

An opossum’s corpse
between the steel railroad tracks—
tongue out, belly up

Telephone pole glows
like a cross against the clouds—
now’s the golden hour

*

White plastic bag
tumbling along the sidewalk
under buzzing wires

A huge obese man
trudges through the parking lot
aided by a cane

Hummingbird hovers
in a still space in the air—
blurred wings like a bee’s

*

The sandy sound of
bottles rubbing together
in my shopping bag

White brush-stroke clouds make
a nest for the crescent moon—
bright blue afternoon

Thanks to Paul Madonna:

Productivity—
is it right to deride trees
for rarely blooming?

*

Seagulls gang around
the edge of a steamy lake—
cars rolling to work

I bike by blank homes
on a quiet grey weekday—
brilliant crisp breeze

O poor Man!  Convinced
he can redeem himself in
a game of poker

*

Through the autumn leaves
the whispering watery sound
of a high noon breeze

Fixing her lashes
on a bumpy morning train—
tall tightrope walker!

Foggy muggy dawn—
taped to a telephone pole
a sign says FOUND CAT

*

I smell her before
I see her!  Perfumed woman
texting in the park

Big Mind rides this train
with all of our other minds—
smiling like a sun

Two flashing red lights
on the tops of two towers—
dusk grows into dawn

*

Ram’s head in the sky!
Or maybe it’s Medusa’s?
Big blot of dark clouds

Standing in the shade
in the park with my eyes closed—
the breeze on my face

The mirror reflects
its opposite—but I don’t
understand how

*

Huge outdoor concert—
the wind-shivering trees give
solace from the crowds

Huge outdoor concert—
the trees and the gulls accept
it all, unimpressed

The shuddering wings
and grunting calls of ravens
passing overhead



.

Just Like Everyone

“If the bluebird plays the eagle
He finds his song will turn to stone”—Deep Purple, “Dealer”

You’re grabbing at flashes
To ride a rocket to the sun
You think that you’re so special
You’re just like everyone

When you ride that lightning
You’re something that you’re not
When the bluebird plays the eagle
His song is lost and gone

At first it seems so easy
Just a dip in a drop
To set your mind on fire
Like the light of a god

The devil tricks and takes you
Robs you of your worth
What was your golden moment
Is now your hell on Earth



.

Crack in the Ceiling

Poetry by Thomas Radwick

Blog Archive