Posted in Poems by Charles Pierre, Poetry on Blogfinger, tagged Jessica Molaskey on Blogfinger, Poem by Charles Pierre on September 1, 2021| 3 Comments »
Under the Coney Island boardwalk. c. 1959. By Bruce Davidson ©
BOARDWALK
By Charles Pierre.
This splintered swath
with its burning masses,
where nothing can grow,
hides a cool path
of sand and grasses
directly below,
a place of laughs
and eager kisses
only the teens know.
From the author’s 2014 collection Coastal Moments, Hayland Press, New York.
k.d. lang
Posted in Poems by Charles Pierre, Poetry on Blogfinger, tagged "The devouring mouth of December" by Charles Pierre, Poem by Charles Pierre, Toward winter in Ocean Grove on November 24, 2020| Leave a Comment »
Ocean Grove. November 28, 2014. Paul Goldfinger photo. ©
Toward Winter
By Charles Pierre.
In late November, after the abundance
of summer and early fall, when withered
vines and leaves deepen the solitude
of the land, one can walk almost unseen,
like the wind coursing through bare trees
or a dust mote crossing a shaft of sunlight.
In this diminished scene, the emptiness
can unburden, almost free, the self,
until one becomes aware of the season
but not the date, on an hourless afternoon,
neither mild nor cold, the slight stiffness
in the joints a certain sign of the short
clipped days and long crystalline nights
to come, as one walks the hardening earth,
with a hunger for less and less of the year,
into the devouring mouth of December.
BEVERLY KENNEY from Sings For Johnny Smith
Posted in Music from the movies, Poems by Charles Pierre, Poetry on Blogfinger, tagged Poem by Charles Pierre on February 20, 2015| 1 Comment »
Hi Paul:
Greetings from chilly Manhattan. For those of us stuck in the ice and snow of the Northeast, idyllic days in Florida are, at best, the stuff of warm dreams. Here is “Northern Reverie,” a poem from my 2009 collection, Green Vistas.
Best wishes,
Charles Pierre
…dreams of warm tropic waters…. By Paul Goldfinger, 2013. ©
Northern Reverie
It is winter here and the emptiness
of seascape extends in all directions.
This is the season of solitary walks
across miles of ice-crusted shoreline,
when the sun burns with a muted fire
and time slows against a gunmetal sky,
when the gulls alone are full of vigor
and scavenge in long drifts of debris
spread by the frigid tides. It is now
that my weariness with cold weather
leads to dreams of Caribbean beaches
dotted with palms, shells and bright
umbrellas, where warm tropic waters
relax my knotted body, as I swim
with over-arm stroke and even kick
to strengthen my limbs for the trek
to spring, which lingers so far away
from the snow along this frozen coast.
CAMILLE “Le Festin” from the movie Ratatouille