C.D. Sinex

C.D. Sinex Poems

We watch the day fade slowly into night,
in silence standing by this open gate.
Afraid, as if to speak would chase the light.
I have to go; you know it's getting late.
...

Carried in,
in the dead of night,
like some smuggler's load.
Lights dimmed, the curtains drawn:
...

for six years
it was the world

the perfect venue
...

Everything we thought we understood,
somehow vanished right before our eyes.
Gone in an instant, the bad, the good…
everything. We thought we understood
...

Autumn equinox.
The hills are nearly silent—
A hermit-thrush calls.
...

Cherries in full bloom.
Petals falling one by one.
No time to wither.
Feelings have flittered away.
...

Ice cream on green cones—
white hydrangeas in full bloom
cool the summer day
...

Cutting through dense woods
well past the logging road's end—
Abandoned homesteads
...

The rebirth of spring—
tulips at my father's grave
obscure the death date
...

Stumbling down the Long Beach pier
half washed away by summer storm.
Gone are the drunks who'd come to leer,
stumbling. Down the Long Beach pier,
...

From my bookshelf— 'A
Coney Island of the Mind'
asks to be reread
...

Just walking up a hill I once did own,
the trees now thicker by some forty years.
In deep brush I found the boundary stone,
when I was young the path was always clear.
...

I heard your fiddle.
Bow ensnarled in raven hair.
The last song we wrote.
With neither bang nor whimper. (1)
...

Carved into the Vermont wilderness, my cabin's become a deer hunter's camp, used only a few weekends a year in fall. The rest of the time it sits sad, dark, and lonely. The vegetable garden, once a source of pride, has been reclaimed by the forest. The asparagus, unharvested, still flowers each summer.
Full of memories-
Walking on the unworn path
that once led me home
...

It's the end of May—
Cicadas sing their spring song
to the soldiers' graves
...

The songbirds are back—
The young ones have already
learned the ancient tunes
...

You'd give me poems
and I'd sometimes write one back.
After class you'd say,
'Here, read this and let me know.'
...

A letter came with
your return address in ink.
A blue envelope
no doubt to remind me of
...

A blue winter sky—
Do three geese on the river
mean spring has arrived?
...

C.D. Sinex Biography

CDSinex had lived in rural Hokkaido (Japan's northernmost island) for 20 years, and enjoys the challenge of Japanese short-forms as well as the discipline of writing in rhyme and meter. His poems have appeared on Every Day Poets, The Boston Literary Magazine, The Icebox (Kyoto, Japan) , Contemporary Haibun On-Line, and Four and Twenty, among others. He currently lives in the Pacific Northwest.)

The Best Poem Of C.D. Sinex

Be Still (Pantoum)

We watch the day fade slowly into night,
in silence standing by this open gate.
Afraid, as if to speak would chase the light.
I have to go; you know it's getting late.

In silence standing by this open gate
your head pressed ever softly on my chest.
I have to go; you know it's getting late.
Why are sad things so often for the best?

Your head pressed ever softly on my chest
we both pretend that neither one can hear.
Why are sad things so often for the best?
The time for me to leave is growing near.

We both pretend that neither one can hear
afraid, as if to speak would chase the light.
The time for me to leave is growing near.
We watch the day fade slowly into night.

© C.D Sinex

C.D. Sinex Comments

Karen Ackerman 22 October 2021

Hello there! Remember me? Karen

0 0 Reply

C.D. Sinex Quotes

Clay is molded to make a vessel, but the utility of the vessel lies in the space where there is nothing. - Lao Tzu (c.601~ 531 B.C.E.)

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