Kathleen Denizard

I am a former teacher of English and for many years worked in social services addressing the needs of residents in affordable housing. There is pure joy for me in sharing my poetry, in relating the many wonders of life and human experiences as a mature observer of people and nature.

Rueful

I am in bed again, desolate among the company of television voices
Hands still tight around an empty glass
The day went wrong
Labors undone, dreams ignored, friends not loved
Though a riot of thoughts may remind me, vespers of evening cannot sober me
The hell of a demon’s breath has burned my brain with whiskey and seared my soul with wine
As I pass into sleep, I beg the God of Lethe not to want me
For I need tomorrow to get it right

Squall

Rain pounded the streets the same morning arrived
It pounded the gutters of cafes and boutiques upending awnings like blown-out umbrellas
The sky awakened like a posse on a rampage
Chasing me inside a shop door left ajar

Strange how time passed with the storm
Feeling only the moment matters
Reminding me of bad dreams in a child’s bed under the cover of a cold blanket
Waiting for dark forms to creep away from the ceiling

A thunder of echoes like insolent children in the playground
Bullied up through a cloud-washed horizon calling out the rain
Rumbling in a sudden breath of air
Imposing a quick retreat

The squall in its rudeness lifted in eerie delight
A remembered moment fleeting
And with the windows open now for a light wind blowing
I watched the sky settle into a hot glow and melt in the gullies of the street where I had entered

On Their Corner of the Street

On their corner of the street
Men, with hair like the burning tree of Moses, gather in the heat of the night
Their dark eyes glower around rusted barrels
Hands reaching to stir the oil in iron pots that bubble and smoke the porridge
They talk the talk as brothers do, as kindred souls under a tent of stars
Reviving news of the day
Sharing hopes for tomorrow
Sometime later the women came bringing jars of bright red wine
The women had some and the men laughed with them and the laughter grew wild
The breathing got hard 
Until the men forget themselves and each other
And the women took them from their corner of the street

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