Five Poems by RC deWinter

 

recess

stop trying to make sense
every minute of the day
quit trying to be
so goddamned dignified
rip off that dour grownup mask
unwrap that tootight
old man cloak of gravitas
and let your spirit breathe

come take my hand
we'll ringaroundtherosie
'til we're dizzy
and when we are
we'll all fall down
just the two of us
laughing like the loons
we were meant to be

until our kisses silence everything
except our beating hearts

 

cookpot

the day closed in a fury of freezing rain
blown into miniature tornadoes
by a vicious wind
i felt the bite of those sharp teeth
in the marrow of my bones

their gnawing a punishment
for my own dark and vicious thoughts
all the i rage silently direct
at those who abandoned me
when i had most need of blessing

a bitter waterfall of pain i can neither suppress nor openly express
they say what goes around comes around
so here i am hoist by my own petard
stewing in the juice of my own making 

word wrangling

holding out my empty cup
i wait for words to drop
from an unplowed field
of imagination
no cultivation
my harrow's broken
and the mule's run off

i'm a lousy farmer anyway
i much prefer to wield a net
as a fisher of words
quicksilver
as they flash by in the
stream of consciousness

we had a drought
this summer though
and that stream is now a trickle
meandering meagerly
full of silt
over a rough and stony bed

perhaps it's time
i ran off with the circus
the spanglejangle
of that gypsy life might be
the very thing to bring
stray words to heel

but i'd better learn to catch
the things i juggle
or down they'll crash
and smash
useless in the sawdust
of the center ring

 

uncorrected vision (metaphor for a life)

born unfocused
with a wandering eye
the world a little off kilter
from the time i could see
a halfcrosseyed urchin
glasses at three

years as a pirate
eyepatch and all
an antique stereoscope
the lenticular kind
to bring that lazy eye
to heel

i remember
a steadfast tin soldier in red and blue
and a dog with a plumefeather tail
and squinting and scrunching
face deep in wood frame
to make those pictures 3D

it was all for nothing
none of it any damn good
i'm still unfocused
no depth perception at all
and the left eye still doesn't know
what the right eye sees

last muse

i need a new muse
and this one will be my last
in today's best bloodless tradition
i've laid out my requirements
but they are far from bloodless:

feral manscent
woodsmoke and threedays' growth
strong arms
strong hands
mind sharp as a blade
and sane enough
to know when to be crazy

the heart of a warrior
who knows when to be gentle
and when to be fierce
who knows the truth
and never fears to speak it
in a voice
that can make rafters ring
or a growl
known only to me

that brings the hot sweet melt
of desire to a furious boil
in my blood
who knows my soul
inside and out
and loves with a passion
fiercer than fire

impossible?
perhaps - perhaps not
there are legions
to be looked at
he doesn't have to be pretty
but he'd better be real

if i'm going to
worship at a shrine
giving all my secret depths
to a last lover
it's going to be as right
and as perfect as imperfect
can come to being

damn me for a dreamer
but we are such stuff as
dreams are made on
and i can dream
with the best of them

RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in New York City Haiku (NY Times,  2/2017), Now We Heal: An Anthology of Hope, (Wellworth Publishing, 12/2020) easing the edges:  a collection of everyday miracles (Patrick Heath Public Library of Boerne , 11/2021,) The Connecticut Shakespeare Festival Anthology (River Bend Bookshop Press, 12/2021), in print: 2River, Event Magazine, Gargoyle Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Plainsongs, Prairie Schooner, Ogham Stone, San Antonio Review, Southword, Twelve Mile Review, Wingless Dreamer, Yellow Arrow Journal, The York Literary Review among others and appears in numerous online literary journals.