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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
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Read books online » Poetry » 49 Reasons by James M. Karns (reading comprehension books txt) 📖

Book online «49 Reasons by James M. Karns (reading comprehension books txt) 📖». Author James M. Karns



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A distant witness to
Warm and festive candle lights
In holiday windows


So You Want To Quit Smoking

I couldn’t help noticing
You, standing by the pumps
While I put gas in my go mobile
You take another puff
I have a special tip
It won’t cost you a dollar
But to begin you must promise
My instructions you will follow
First, tomorrow morning
Before the cig, you know the one
You crave more than liquor
Take off all your clothes
And stand before the mirror
Second, put on some rock music
Loud from out of speakers
It can be the King or the Boss
You can even wear sneakers
Third, you light that Marlboro,
Virginia Slim, or low tar
Gaze at yourself in full view
swinging at your air guitar.
While strutting along to Mick
Call it a day for cigarettes
Unless you can in public
Repeat this shtick


Artistic Gamble

"An author." she said
"That's what I shall be!"
So she went to her muse
Her loveliness to see
To ruminate, to cogitate
For an answer she could use
But, the inner one pouts
"In prose tell the story,
and then get out."
"Then a poet, a poet yes that is good.
That is where I can express my mood."
So back to the muse again she asks.
"Tell me please dear and do not be terse,
what will others revere?"
The muse smiling responds
"In poetry lead with strong verse."
"No no, that's not it!"
She yelped then did cry.
"It's universal, and yet too personal!"
"What of musical song to say what I might?"
Instantly an answer came from her soul's door.
"In music the song, and nothing more."


Once Upon A Tuesday

Once upon A Tuesday
Well before winter
He was sacking groceries
She, deciding on dinner
There was sunlight in his eyes
And there was warmth in her heart
Two from their generation
Meeting in the Food Mart
Their worlds were soon entangled
Friday nights brought movie dates
Sunday afternoons in the park, late
They married that September
Lunch hours spent kicking Autumn leaves
Once upon a Tuesday
He signed with Special Forces
She didn't think he would
declare communications his endeavor
"Can't be a sack boy forever."
Once upon a Tuesday
Came the notice to their home
Present himself in thirty days
To Operation Desert Storm
A soldier goes where he is ordered
His is not to question where? why?
Like those before him
He can only live in the moment
And remember her goodbye
Then
Once upon A Tuesday
Came the letter registered to only her
A direct hit to her heart
Her soldier, her love, her everything
Was felled in mortal combat
Yet, if it was only that
the story would have been told
But now she has to decide
what to say
To her unborn child


1957

In a warm Summer night
With the crickets stirring
And a sometimes breeze
Over the fence high grasses
One lamp post shines unfaltering
Where town meets country
Gray tubes flicker through lace windows
A single car passes on the highway
And Sputnik moves overhead


Earth Family

I felt you in the trees today
Oh great spirit
At the place just below the ridge
Brother coyote noticed too.
Before instinct gave him a nudge
To move into the shadows
Sister cotton tail moves out
Then back
Eyes that are small oceans
A nose in constant motion
Got to keep on moving
The great provider knows
As surely as sun chases moon
You realize that
You're not the only one
Who stops and says;
I felt you in the trees today
O great spirit
I felt you in the trees


Horse Angel

My link with the horse world
Is a painted, saddle-bred mare
Her name is Tewa Desert Rose
And with her there's lots to share
Apples in the morning
Carrots every eve
Lots of friendly horse games
Plenty of candy treats
Whether riding in the saddle
Or taking a little trot
Although we have our differences
There's a unity in our thoughts
Each morning as I'm leaving
She's busy eating hay
But when I return
At days end
She always looks my way
I soap and scrub and brush her
For this she can barely stand
So when she sees my back is turned
She rolls in mud and sand
Until today when light snow came
And at the barn I find
A perfect silhouette in brown
Surrounded by icy lines
The horse angel left by Rose
Inviting me to lay down
So down I did go
Beside her distinct impression
And now horse and rider
Face up in heavenly expression


Red Eye

The red eye
gazing at me,
just a red eye,
it's all I see.

The red eye
surrounded with blue,
it's still a red eye,
with a view.

The red eye
and feathers fine,
through a red lens,
I am a find.

The red eye,
is distant now,
I watch the pigeon fly,
from my plow.


The Exile

He walks slowly, deliberately
down a path in the woods.
Overhead an eagle
divides the sky
Beside his feet
on a misty rise,
beetles wrestle
over stamp size territory
and above his head,
newborn sparrows
free themselves
from eggshells.
He is beginning to
forget,
the traffic lights,
the murderous nights,
and sirens loud
that had once
defined
his hours.


Surrender

There's something about Selena
A friend and I agree
You can see it
Feel it
Hear it
Like coins in a slot machine

The hired hand Javier’s eyes
Had fallen to his beer
Being a listening bartender
I then lent him my ear
Continuing his confessional
and looking a little tense
He started talking to me
as if in self-defense

It's not her tousled hair
It's not her baby Tommy
It's not her soulful eyes
Not her daddy nor her mommy.

Yes he and I are sure
That when she wraps her lithness
'round you
She will never let you be
And yet when at the market
her desires start off as small
As one
And then they grow
By three

One of us knew this final point,
The other will never see
My friend proposed to Selena
But I remain free


In The Tower of West Texas Sun

He drawled on
about the old times
in the oil field.

The eyes
periodically grew
blue pie plates.

His mouth
barely moving
behind A ferrous beard.


Muscles
on top of muscles
that was me.

Smoked
since I was twelve
I’m on the patch.

Worked
everyday in the tower
of west Texas sun.

The wind,
it was cool there
late in the afternoon.

Come evening
the bars would fill
with slender gals.

And out under
the stars you knew
you were part of it all.


Overboard

Her words came in waves
from an ocean of guilt.
Like; “sorry”
And “stupid”
“I can’t”
and “Hurt”

Ronnie her brother
Had found the bottle,
empty of hydrocodone
and missing the top.

She gave up her son
to the adoption person.
Another decision
in a limited space

In a hospital room
under watchful eyes,
her words crash again;
“regret”
“surprise”

In medicalese we call it
overdose,
but again and again
I want to say
overboard.


Yellow Umbrella

Clouds hang,
head down
rain falls.
Lone person
crosses the walk,
framed in gray
his yellow umbrella
held high.


Only Love

No sister love,
No mother love,
No brother love.
Only love.

No father love,
No school love,
No flag love.
Only love.

No romantic love,
No new love,
No old love.
Only love.

No human love,
No animal love,
No plant love.
Only love.

No material love,
No self-love,
No selfless love.
Only love.


Leafy Aster

A Greek star,
on my drive
past mountain meadows.
When bad news,
hurt,
or disappointment
intrude.
Lavender-purple rays
of joy
laugh back.
Unlike cousin sunflower's
boastful,
bright,
volume.
Your assertive,
green,
twenty inches
greet the morning light.
Fine hair,
on seed-like fruit
says "goodbye"
soon after
Labor Day.
Until,
next July
when,
your offspring play.


In My Summer Youth

Lottie the black spaniel and
Gertie the spotted hound,
Joined up with me a barefoot boy
When we would run round
The shade-dappled orchard of
Summer youth.

The Beats were somewhere on the road.
But I was more interested in horned toads,
And how they scampered in the sand,
while Dick Clark introduced the band.


The gray tube sang, "Have Gun Will Travel."
At the baseball plate was Mickey Mantle.
High school days were no sooner over,
than I was getting older.


Teen town was loud with electric sound.
A dozen boys smoked, and stood their ground.
Inside on the dance floor perfume plumes,
Where awkward youth dance the room.


Manually sweating under a hot sun.
Thinking about when the work is done.
Planning trips beyond county lines,
To Ferris wheel parks and city lights.


From springs caress into straits dire.
I saw Vietnam and campus fire.
And a president who chose to lie,

That's when I said goodbye,
to Summer youth.


Raven Lunch

She steps carefully over brown grass,
french-fries in hand.
Grey sweater over drooped shoulders.
A defiant octogenarian.
“Put a shine on your shoes,
and a melody in your heart!”
filters from a car window.
Three, then four good sized ravens
Descend from high trees.
Lunch begins.
Some for me, more for you.
She generously shares as
She recalls.
The Eire village,
and the crowd of people
her Mother included.
Following one good potato
Carried by one black bird,
over dark fields.
To the promise
Of more.


View from Third Floor Central State Hospital

I still see the small frame houses
one city street away
all white and smiling up at me
rows and rows some
like cigarette boxes
in the morning sun
some like children playing
I could use a smoke
But the room is locked
if I could see
if I could just look inside one
it's unfair
there isn't anybody
nobody there
but you say
there is
one on a bicycle
one delivering mail
another walking a dog
maybe I did
put my knife in one
but they aren't real
only houses


Housecleanin

Yesterday we argued
No
Yes we disagreed

The usual trivialities
Lifeless words
Lying dead
Scattered to the black corner of the house

There stands a housecleaner
With broom and pan,
Sweeping up hateful Lies resentful mockeries in pained piles

There stands a house
Now clean
From floor to eaves front door to back
And then
The housecleaner Leaves


Minor Blues

I’ve got a wash tub bass
A nylon string guitar
eighty-eight keys of rinky tink
By now you know how far
A man will go
To feed his soul

Young girl gave a nod
Music is beautiful thing
Carries you across the land
Picks you up when you’re sad and blue
Then it lets you down again

Some days wound too tight
Other days are out of control
But in between the drama
By now you know how far
A man will go
To find his home

Old man said it’s true
Life is a curious
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