Joseph Farley has had 11 books and chapbooks of poetry published including Yellow Brick Pilgrim, Longing For The Mother Tongue, Her Eyes and Suckers.  He is also the author of a novel, Labor Day, and two story collections, For the Birds, and Farts and Daydreams.

Birds of a feather

I don't want to be the one
To call you a fool.

It would sound odd
Coming from me.

I have been a fool
For so long
It's second nature.

The best I can do
Is welcome you
With open arms
And walk beside you,

At a safe distance,
Just in case the mob
Chooses to throw garbage
At one or both of us.

Sight and Sound

I found gold in your eyes
And wax in your ears
Glorious to look upon,
But so poor at listening.

Thank you anyway
For your glittering
Appearance.

You brightened my days
For an hour or two
Whenever we were
Together.

After that,
it became
Too much
For me to do.

I can't be a handbag
Or some other
Accessory,
Silent and adding
To your overall
Effect.

What I could give you
Was words
And the occasional
Pounding of flesh.

That was not enough for you,
And you were not
Enough for me.

Keep the books
I lended you.
I never really
Expected
To get them back.

I will keep
The memories,
Mixed as they were.


I have a bad thing
With memories.
They never go away.

Maybe with time,
Locked away in
My mind,
You will learn
To hear what I say,

And I will learn
To speak things
Worthy of your attention.

The Truth Hurts

People are dying, suffering, weeping
All over the world,
But not for a lack of poetry.

There are plenty of words out there
Already,
Too much to climb over
Without getting a nose bleed.

Thank God for woodstoves
And cold winters.
Otherwise we would never be
Rid of
All those rhymes
And free verses.

Give the people
What they really need.
A bandage or a napkin maybe,
Possibly with a sonnet or a haiku
Scrawled on one side.