Nicholas Damion Alexander

From the trenches he heard the blast
of bombs booming in the near distance,
saw the heavy clump of black smoke
twisting like a tornado;
...

A sudden surge of wind supported the forecast
a cold front pending
descending
from the north in this the year's final month
...

After the rain: the gnawing of crickets,
sun-scorched leaves.

A bird harrowing far away inside
...

The valley is a wonderful spectacle
of color: pink poi, red hibiscus,
golden sunflowers; all arranged masterfully
as if by an expert florist.
...

This is Rome, converted home of the gods,
seat of the Papacy, and of the Renaissance,
place of the Leaning Tower
and the sword of Antiquity,
...

A heavy mist rises
out of the valley
like gun smoke, rifling
the air, setting off a time piece
...

Anything can inspire me to verse:
a dog sleeping soundly
on a makeshift veranda
thick croton flowers lining a sloping path
...

I do not know the name
of most of these plants and flowers
growing here; but I know the croton
sitting broad atop time-rusted branches
...

The scene plays hide-and seek
With the imagination.

Quickly, the mist lifts to reveal
...

I'm
Looking at
That tree in the middle
Of the yard, glittering
...

Now suddenly the silence is broken
By two contrasting sounds:
One, the conversation of a man and woman
Of how-did-do and health.
...

The love I have for my father
Is like the love of a mother
For the child she has the most trouble loving.
She ends up loving that child more
...

1.
My mother cooked with salt,
flavoring our lives
with the spice of her choice...
...