It’s
Time
I
think death will be
like
my mother
coming
quietly
to
my room
while
I sleep.
She
will watch me
silently
for a while
then
touch me gently
and
say,
“Honey,
it’s time to get up.”
But
a million times
more
wonderful.
©
joe larkin
I
Want to Tell You
John’s
been taken down,
down
to the Strawberry Field
across
the park.
He’ll
live there for a time
until
time takes him by the hand
into
some dim corner of a story
vaguely
remembered
like
the lost soldiers
of
the great war
spinning
out
across
the universe.
But
we still hear him singing
Give
Peace a Chance...
Imagine.
Peace.
George,
too, has passed
along
with everything
that
must.
Guitar
weeping
like
an old brown shoe,
he
was with us
and
without us
trying
to reach us
with
heart and soul.
It’s
been a long, cold, lonely
winter
since he passed.
But
we still hear him singing
Here
Comes the Sun…
We
can wait. We’ve got time.
©
joe larkin
Discontent
Who
can count it
when
the numbers are stacked
against
you?
Don’t
ask questions
in
poetry;
it’s
just not done.
What
are the odds
that
you will win
or
lose?
You
will lose, all right;
the
odds are never
in
your favor.
All’s
fair;
on
a warm spring day
the
numbers mount.
Love
and war
are
just words
for
the same thing.
Ennui
is
the better
word.
And
what of it?
There
you go
with
the questions again.
©
joe larkin
I’m
Here for the Song
It’s
not the wine, although it’s wonderful
And
tastes of everything alive:
Blood
reds
Whites
like sunny hillsides
Their
flavors break
Upon
my tongue
Drench
me with delight.
It’s
not the women
Although
they’re wonderful
Swarthy
olive, soft yellow, milk white
The
moon in their eyes
Life
on their lips
Scents
that take
My
breath away
Fill
me with yearning
Gift
me with life.
It’s
the song
I’m
here to sing
Of
the wine’s taste
Upon
my tongue
The
giddy laughter
Drunken
revelry
That
fills my head
And
sets me dancing
Like
Bacchus
Through
the streets of Rome .
It’s
the song I’m here to sing
Of
the women’s scents
That
fill my head
Tongues
that tell deep secrets
Breasts
that swell
Hips
that curve
The
wine of life
The
lovely laughter
Of
street dancing
And
lovemaking.
I’m
here
to
sing that song.
©
joe larkin
