Poetry: Alan Rodman, Roger Houston, Ronald Keith Mc Kinley

growing damp spot
a growing damp spot
indicated that quite a
while ago
she had turned on
the sprinkler
under her sheer Freudian
slip she wore not much
more than a promise
and a whisper of lace
but concerns over the
drought made her
consider doing it
all by hand herself
using her own watering can
She always enjoyed
blowing the dandelions
and making wishes
but one day
she accidentally sucked
instead, and inhaled
the magic dandelion seeds
which carried her
away in a transport
of convulsive ecstasy.
and her wish to be
a field of blossoms
came true, and the boy
she cared for rolled
in the tall grasses
and told her all his secrets.
Her dreams were filled
with the boy nestled
in her blooming,
blossoming bosom.
he gathered all
her wishes up
like kisses on the wind
and never left
the golden field
of dandelions
– Alan Rodman

20:02 Monday, August 17th, 2015, Adullam
….. A deer stared down the headlights. Showed
no fear. Nor sought to clear the deck as they
came near. Bright as the noon day sun. He saw
the light. Did not discern the danger. Took no
flight. It seems the other deer, no warning, gave.
So. How was he to know how to behave? And
what of common sense? Instinct? His gut? With
no time to react. No chance. A thought. That
once one sees the head lights on the pave. One
might as well approach one’s open grave. Did not
sense his mortality. No fright. Swift as an archer’s
arrow. Saw the light. An instant. Impact
threw him in the air. And, whereupon, he landed.
Over there ….. Roger Houston, post-beat


I Play Music
By Ronald Keith Mc Kinley
I play music
Music plays me
A colony of cells
Whispered to by particles
Generated by space
And time
Vibration and motion
I grow on the wave
I am born each morning
A child hungry
For what is new
Fingers dancing
Over modes
What I feel
I keep forever
I talk
And discord the rest
I love that woman
That is music
Sometimes mother
Sometimes lover
Holding I am held
A flash of infinity
In a single note
Each song formed
By connection
The laying on of hands
A look before a touch
My lover calls


Categories: Poetry