A Seduction of Ada
It was his hand
as we sat side by side;
he waved it
as a flag
waves in a breeze.
The fingers arched
and flowed
up
down
and up again;
pausing at one time
then moving again.
I looked into his eyes
and his eyes slanted
to his hand
saying look again.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Fly Back
I sent birds out
to look for your Soul;
they came back
with a message in their beck
which said 'I am lost.'
I sent my heart
with a note which said
'take this and it will guide your way home.'
My heart flew back
saying 'his soul could not
take me
he said he was unworthy;
my heart wept
and lay down to sleep.
I gave my Soul wings;
told it to find his;
a bird came back
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Autumn Begets Spring- Hilda's Marriage Decision
You have no seasons;
you are an undifferentiated
whole with no seams:
Guarded or Integrated?
I can't decide.
You whole life seems
well, so together.
And you love me.
I think you really do.
You are my Eternal Summer
well-off, a famous family
and persistent
in your interest in me.
There will be no seasonal
changes with you
and you and your mother
have already been shopping
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Melding
These eyes see in the dark
but Picasso-like they only see fleeting images of you
in our soft-lensed youth.
These hands touch
in you the essence of my best years and yours;
memory caresses us
and its power keeps us as we were in the old photos
youth reveling in velvet arms.
You are so well known to me
yet still a mystery
and I have never known how
you do that.
You're the path
given me
to grow beyond myself
to experience
breathless dollops where the soul melds
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Permission
Love has splendid arrows in it's quiver
none greater than mine for you.
No heart has strained toward
devotion more
than mine given.
You have been for me
Loves Only,
and by your side
my heart breathes.
To go away from me
is unthinkable.
But you will I know;
cancer-stricken
say your brave goodbye
and go as you always have
unfeelingly
or so
it seemed to me.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Point
Words too many, creates an inflation-like balloon; sphere grown too large
where each word gets lost in the volume of words gone awry, orphaned,
where syllabicity becomes too complicatedly and comprehension
escapes the brain and flees into the night of obscurity and sadly
interest waxes and wanes and only pieces of the meaning
remain, distended and jumbled up and in surrealities
which makes one doubt whether the poem makes
sense of not, or if it is I, the reader lacking
the wit or common sense to see what
the writer meant or if there is a code
to all of this that I, the reader just
does not get, and, perhaps a
second read will clarify all
this and the light will
flood in and then
I, reader, will
and poet
reveal
the
point.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Women Love Him
Women love my dad
even at 86
he still glides through life
breaking all the rules.
He still drinks too much
laughs all the time
calls all the women 'baby-fox'
and they love him for it.
Won't live with the kids
wants to play the field
with the sixty year olds
in the nursing home;
has women of all ages
whom he adores
and they adore him back.
Still does forty one-handed push-ups each day
and lives in a city where it gets 10 below
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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I Can See
I can see far galaxies,
count in each
the nebulae;
My finger swirls sunset colors
and paste them in my scrap-book portfolio,
bend these around Time itself,
high polish them to diamond glow;
sprinkle on dust from butter-fly wings,
warm this with angel breath
and fly
to the highest sky;
where I pluck the leafy blade
and make of it my feather brush;
and re-paint Van Gogh's landscapes.
I mix in Velvet Innocence
starry nights,
honey-colored moon-light;
kaleidoscopic butter skies,
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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These Words Are Meant For You
So there is no confusion let clarity clarify here
these words on this page are meant for you;
you.
Strung along these lines are precious intents
longing longings from down deep where souls converse,
floodings of sentiments traversing time and distance all
forming a straight line to you.
Gratitude is the staff that allows me to walk and write-
bread given me by you
sustains;
for clarity's sake
understand
these words are meant for you;
you.
Time and distance, acquaintance
and daily externals and such
mean less than these
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Wallowings
I am in the Wallowing-
there I find my best and worse.
Pity-Wallow is where I focus
all on my self and go inward
for long moments of pity-filled indulgence of self.
Sorrow-Wallow allows me to grieve
on my own terms, yet not really suffer
too much.
Wallow-Defeats are my best
and where I re-learn over and over again
not to regret.
Good Wallow where I learn lessons
over and over again-
Down is the best way Up;
Out is the best way Back:
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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