Three Poems

by JBMulligan

among the commuters

Little old Spanish lady
who gets off the bus each night
taking tiny slow steps
with the crease of a grimace
set above your chin,

did you dance in the light
of a hot young moon,
smiling and singing
in your wavery silken voice?
Was that night forever?

I have been there,
and the breeze blowing through
bringing roses and the sea
turns cold, bears petals of snow
down onto silent mounds,

the cars we sweep clean
and send nosing into dark,
moles that wander through roots
among the living graves
in search of another forever.

nocturne whimsicale

It’s not not wanting to die,
it’s wanting part of me to stay
here like a tipsy Buddha
plump, seated and smiling
in a warm well-lit room
with stars and the sky
outside and looking in
eternal and envious
at this momentary calm.
But it’s death and time
that squeeze this diamond
from a lesser thing,
so in the staying
the treasure would be lost.
Still, I will sit
for a little while
and smile just enough
so the night will have to wonder,
“Is that little brat happy
again?” And the moon will
turn its head a bit, and grin.

June morning

The sunlight rests its arm
on the shoulder of the mountain.

Weeds, grass, bushes, trees:
roadside rocks erupt.

The morning stifles a giggle
while the lake laughs silently,
its lips aquiver.

I take a pebble from my shoe
and skip it across the water,
then continue toward home.

Behind me, a fish jumps.


JBMulligan has had more than 1000 poems and stories in various magazines over the past 40 years, and has had two chapbooks published: The Stations of the Cross and THIS WAY TO THE EGRESS, as well as 2 e-books, The City Of Now And Then, and A Book of Psalms. He has appeared in several anthologies, including Inside/Out: A Gathering Of Poets; The Irreal Reader (Cafe Irreal); and multiple volumes of Reflections on a Blue Planet.
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