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Sam Mauzy Poems
A Winter Beach
A scene of desolation like a film apocalyptic With empty streets, buildings bleak and forlorn; A breezy scrap of plastic scuttles like a crab; Unruffled, stoic gulls stand and stare.
Come and let us take a slow drive across town, Dodge confused tourists, be polite at four-way stops, Zoom over the boated Ashley out to the beach road; Don't fall off;
All the way down, a plantation of music Brings interstate relief before the holy city, Charleston, jewel of the mossed-oak low country, Dowager with throngs of tourist suitors,
The assiduous vines of this foe On the edge of the yard where it grows Will soon cover most anything near And believe it or not volunteer
Spoleto Chamber Music
In morning sky unfurled, a seabird soared, And puffed above, a monster sphinx held sway; I meant to tell the girl who worked at breakfast Her visage did enrich the promised day.
Good Old Boy
Banged-up pickup truck Parked near the pumps At truckstop cafe, travelers Peering in at a baby deer;
Altitude addiction Appetite for wind and line Astonishment for birds Anxiety for the flyer.
Mister Nice Guy
When he asked the easy girl She replied she was taken At thirteen by an older boy Then she laughed and said
Mother of kings Perspicacious feeder Sea breeze glider Coastal dive bomber
Sanderling funny little bird with stick legs and skinny beak
Pittance Of Respite
Off Broad and Chalmers human beings cooped in dank and dark cells on the block
Chanson Du Sud
O how you sing to us, Manassas, Chicamauga, Shennandoah, Okrakoke, Savannah, Tuscaloosa,
Dead parents dead friends Dead pets dead teachers All gone to our heads Nestled in neurons
Bright bugle adagio From funeral home on the corner Full dress detail stiff as boards Line up tight
A Winter Beach
A scene of desolation like a film apocalyptic
With empty streets, buildings bleak and forlorn;
A breezy scrap of plastic scuttles like a crab;
Unruffled, stoic gulls stand and stare.
Bold in winter's hush, coastal spirits reassemble,
Banished by vacation tyranny and syndicate of play,
Ancient Indians, marooned shipwrecked sailors,
Fishermen, soldiers killed in a great bombardment.
We bask in the serenity of golden cold sunlight
In dappled sky, linger on the fortitude of wet sand,
The curling perpetual surf our resurrection
And redemption for a ...