3 Poems

Roman

When Roman took a whiz
From off my porch,
And Ernie, later, took a leak
Out by my drive quite leisurely,
I felt a camaraderie
With both, these alcoholics, sure,
At seventeen.
But also, sure, I felt
A twinge of apprehension
For two young men,
The pride of both their families,
These decent kids,
Intelligent, endearing lads,
Recyling Coors
From the brewery onto my lawn
On too many week-day nights.

Men

I myself have been a lover
From my days of earliest youth
Of the beauty, self-possessed and heedless grace--
Of the strength, the litheness, calm assurance,
Self-sufficiency, and splendid fact of men.
Men are.
And from their eyes, their stance,
Their movements, gestures, intensity,
And not the least from how they go about
As bearers of the phallus. I've seen
Regality quite commonly
And royalty without a throne.

Our Love

Our love, my Love, is pure and true;
And just because we have to hide from some
Should never make us feel unclean.
For, "to the pure all things are pure."

Quite like the dazzling, brilliant drops
Which dance in sunlight, bright, and hang
Suspended for a moment, free
Above a mountain waterfall,
And which, upon their fall unto the ground
Are moisture to the mountain rose.
Our love is thus,.
For in its childlike play
And innocence complete
Is bright and clean, and quietly
Accomplishes the work of God
More surely that all piety.

Copyright © Worley Reynolds.