Poetry: Selections from Nolo Segundo

A Morning’s Walk

My wife and I walk every morning,

a mile or so--

it’s good for us old to walk in the cold,

or in the misty rain, it makes less the pain

that old age is wont to bring to bodies

which once burned bright with youth,

though now I wear braces on ankles,

braces on knees, and I walk slowly

with 2 canes, like an old skier,

sans snow, sans mountain.

 

We passed a tree whose leaves had

left behind summer’s green and now

fall slowly, carefully one by one

in their autumnal splendor.

 

My wife stopped me--

listen she said-- but

I heard nothing—hush!,

stand still, she said,

and I tried hard to

hear the mystery….

 

Finally I asked her, knowing my hearing

less than my wife’s (too many rock concerts

in my heedless youth), what we listen for?

 

She looked up at my old head, and smiled--

only she could hear the sound each leaf made

as it rippled the air in falling to the ground.

When the Warm Day Dies

When the warm day dies

And the cool night sets in,

Then I’ll be there, beside

You my love, feeling the

Heat of a beating heart,

My arms wrapped round

Your empty shoulders as

I whisper silent words of

Love and longing in your

Lonely, unadorned ear….

My Own Small Slice Of Paradise

I look out my backyard and

rejoice in its greenness

(even though green is not

my favorite color) and I

think I am so fortunate

to have a tame jungle

for a backyard with its

own little zoo of squirrels

dancing like dervishes and

birds fluttering like mad

and fat crafty groundhogs

continually trying to dig

under my shed for their

own comfy rent-free home

and the occasional skunk

(so beautiful at a distance)

or even a proud wild turkey

but best of all is when a

deer or two or three come

like virgin queens to quietly

meander o’er my ¼ acre

domain-- it may not be like

sitting on a beach in Hawaii

overlooking the Pacific as

the sun gracefully dies yet

again but it is my own, my

very own small slice of

Paradise….

The Low Hanging Sun

I went to take out the trash,

the good trash, glass and paper

destined for re-incarnation

and as I stepped outside,

the air cool and pearly white,

the low hanging sun smiles,

throws a late afternoon warmth

over my body, a blanket of silk.

 

For a moment I stopped to think,

then thanked the low hanging sun

for being there, the last defense

against a cold deep unto death....

 

In our immense Universe, wall-less,

ever expanding, is mostly night,

utter and fearsome darkness, all

pitch-black and cold, a coldness

beyond comprehension or life---

so the light and heat of every

myriad star is precious, precious….

After Costco, Before Ukraine

You saw the lines weren’t too long

so you went for the gas first---

spend a little time, save a lot of

money you thought. But it took

longer than you expected [too

many ‘tanks’ as you call SUVs

filling up their 50 gallon tanks]

so by the time you went into the

giant store, you were feeling like

a crab trapped in a net as you

wrestled through the weekend

horde of bargain hunters….

 

Finally at home, you plopped

down in the comfy chair as

the nightly news came on and

sipped the fresh brewed French

roast and ate a piece of rich

chocolate cake you bought at

Costco and felt a bit sad for

those poor people in Ukraine

as you watched war in hi-def.

 

Still, the thought uppermost in

your mind, as your eyes scanned

so many dead bodies lying quiet

in the streets like stones thrown

randomly, was just how damn

good the coffee was and how

much you had saved going to

the big box store…

Nolo Segundo, pen name of  L.j. Carber, 76, became a published poet and essayist in his 8^thdecade in over 150 literary journals and anthologies in 12 countries. The trade publisher, Cyberwit.net, has released 3 poetry books under his pen name: The Enormity of Existence [2020]; Of Ether and Earth [2021]; and Soul Songs [2022]. A retired English/ESL teacher [America, Japan, Taiwan, Cambodia], he has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.