John Lyday Poems
|1.||Avocado On Ritz||11/10/2009|
|2.||Half Pint Of Satan||11/14/2009|
|3.||Silence, Sleep And Serenity||11/28/2009|
|4.||If I Could Write A Cloud||11/30/2009|
|5.||The Suicide Of My Young Friend||12/5/2009|
|6.||Walking To The Train||12/17/2009|
|7.||What Crazy Means To Me||12/23/2009|
|8.||A Romp Toward Remission - Collaboration W/ Angie Headley||12/24/2009|
|9.||Ode To The Woman Who Shot Me||1/25/2010|
|10.||Prayer To Despair||2/10/2010|
|11.||Fallen Fruit Of The Persimmon Tree||12/14/2009|
|12.||One More Chance (A Villanelle)||6/4/2009|
|17.||David And Goliath||4/17/2009|
|19.||Why I Don'T Write||4/24/2009|
|20.||Colorado Small Town Memories||4/9/2009|
Colorado Small Town Memories
A dog named Pups and a cat named Kitty,
together they roam the city.
But it’s not really a city, is it?
Two blocks of main street is all they visit.
It’s an old town that never grew.
None of the buildings are considered new,
a grocery, dime stone, hardware and such
gas station and drug store – not much.
One road in and one road out,
the end of the journey no doubt,
or the beginning if you should flee
the roots that bind you to it’s creed.
Dusty, unpaved country roads,
snakes and lizards and horny toads,
sagebrush, cottonwoods and ...
America has traded in his Mercedes
For a beat up, General Motors car.
It has a fender and door of different colors.
It leaks water, burns oil and won’t go far.
America is standing at unemployment,
all morning, just to see the clerk.
Diligently, he pursues positions,
along with millions looking for work.