Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Poems by Charles Pierre’ Category

Hi Paul:

Greetings from Manhattan. One can hear great music in Ocean Grove’s Auditorium and Pavilion throughout the summer. But there’s another kind of music that is best heard on the beach at night. Here is the poem “Ocean Musicale” from my 2008 collection, Father of Water.

Best wishes,
Charles Pierre

June 2015. Ocean Grove beach. Paul Goldfinger photo. © Blogfinger.net.

Ocean Grove beach. 2015.  Paul Goldfinger photo. © Blogfinger.net.  Click to make the dark bigger.

Ocean Musicale

By Charles Pierre

In the humid haze of an August night,
the planes of shore, sea and sky dissolve
to undivided black. In this dark hall

of the Atlantic, released from light
and shadow, one moves by ear alone
to the sounds of sand, wave and wind,

listening beyond any human scale
to each natural noise as it occurs,
until the impersonal din becomes

a concert of the barest elements.

PAUL SIMON   Live in NYC (Concert in the park.  1991)

Read Full Post »

Bob Bowné.  Winter Ocean Grove. 2015. ©

 

SCULPTURE

 

By Charles Pierre

 

In winter, my tongue

and teeth chinker

through cracked lips,

 

each poem a carving

of white breath

without marble’s heft—-

 

the chiseled lines

dying to silence,

shrouded in mist.

 

 

HOLLY CONLAN   “Winter”

 

 

Read Full Post »

sunset florida

Bunche Beach. Fort Myers, Florida. Paul Goldfinger ©.

 

Sunset

By Charles Pierre

 

The offshore sky

is undone

as light slips away:

 

When the blues die

in flame,

and the last display

 

of red ends its slide

seaward,

drowning the day.

 

CACHAO.  “Si Me Pudieras Querer”

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

2

Once alive. Paul Goldfinger ©. Ocean Grove.

 

 

Career

 

By Charles Pierre

 

The smashed bodies of clams,

crabs and whelks onshore

show what the world’s about.

Yet from the shadow

of a broken shell,

a small beetle walks freely

into the sun,

its path etched

on the sand’s crust.

 

 

BUCKY PIZZARELLI :

 

 

Read Full Post »

Spring Lake

“Here’s That Rainy Day.” Spring Lake, NJ. By Paul Goldfinger ©. Undated.

Spring Pool

By Charles Pierre

In the hollow of my hand, a pool is born
of an April downpour, the sudden flood
filling every crevice of pinkish skin,
the lines of life and heart and mind engulfed,

a breeze etching the surface with ripples
that push against shores of padded flesh
around the palm, some overflowing the bank,
others sliding back toward the deep center,

the wrinkles on the bottom of the pool
brightening, as the rain that fell so fast
passes, and sunlight pierces the water
settling at the end of my outstretched arm.

BOB DYLAN:

Read Full Post »

Ocean Grove. Sept. 2010. Paul Goldfinger photo ©

 

 

Absence

A poem by Charles Pierre

Of what was written down
or spoken aloud onshore,
eye and ear find scant remains

A few letters in the sand
or murmurs on the salt wind
show, not who was here,

but how the sea
swallows up
most human traces.



LONDON SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA "Enigma Variations."

Read Full Post »

Late November garden in Ocean Grove. Paul Goldfinger photograph. ©

 

 

Reprieve

By Charles Pierre

From a rusted nail
on the south wall

of an old boathouse
weathered to gray,

a small pail of
red impatiens

swings in the mild
November sun,

where the rush
of stark sea wind

has yet to dim
the arc of lush color.

 

 

EVA CASSIDY
From her album Songbird.

Read Full Post »

IMG_5349

Ocean Grove, New Jersey September, 2018 by Paul Goldfinger ©

 

Scoop of the Flux

By Charles Pierre

A breaker tumbles
into the shallows,

with onshore thrust
and muscling splash

that toss skyward
a long yellow kelp,

glazed with water
and stretched to

a string of lights,
sparkling in midair,

at the sea’s peak
an instant, until

falling with a flicker
into blurred spillage

of surf, vanishing
as soon as seen

in dark backwash
of the undertow.

 

 

THE RIGHTEOUS BROTHERS  “Ebb Tide”

Read Full Post »

sg-2

Stephen Goldfinger. Central Park, 2014. Blogfinger.net ©

 

 

Green Vistas

By Charles Pierre

I walk the hard and darkened streets
of Manhattan as winter thaws,
where steel and concrete choke the earth,
where nature can’t unfold or flow.

Gaudy neon and bits of glass
sparkling in asphalt swell the night
with portents of spring that lead me
to a park on the river’s edge.

My left hand flies from its pocket
to test the air. The air says, Write,
until trees are flaming with leaves,
until waves are emerald fire.

 

 

ART GARFUNKEL

Read Full Post »

Hi Paul:

Greetings from Manhattan. To observe the leaves changing on the trees from April to December, is to see, in a vivid way, the pattern of life that governs us all. Here is the poem “Late Autumn at Centerport,” from my 2009 collection, Green Vistas.

Best wishes,
Charles Pierre

Rhinebeck, New York. Mid-October, 2017. Paul Goldfinger ©

 

Late Autumn at Centerport

By Charles Pierre

Spring unfurled from ripening buds,
and a balmy summer preserved
the deep greens of oak and maple
on hillsides across the harbor

A month ago, the reds and golds
were bright distractions, but today,
descending a hill to this beach
through the bitter December air,

I feel the withering absence
of colors that once filled the trees.
Fallen leaves are now visible,
black and rotting in the shallows.

Here, the full cycle of seasons
has yet to pass, but today,
having seen this much of the year,
I know my end ahead of time.

 

CHET BAKER:

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: