Sunday, 20 March 2022

Four Poems by Victor Kennedy





Sheba

 

I never knew who opened the door

I heard the tires screech and the thump from inside the house

I ran across the lawn and the road

and sat on the curb with her still head in my lap, stroking her silky black coat

as I watched the car disappear in the distance

 

 

The Girl with Light Brown Hair

 

Walking back to the dorm one winter afternoon

She caught up with me and we chatted awhile

Then she turned to me and said

“You know, you remind me of Clark Gable.”

“I don’t look anything like him.” 

“Yes, the way you walk, and the way you hold yourself.”

I thought nothing of it and we went our separate ways

Months later, on the night we were called to the bar

A stranger followed her home with a knife

Sometimes I think about the girl

Who looked at me and saw a star


 

The Answer

 

The nurse said I should hold her

so, not knowing what to do,

I took her, wrapped in a blanket,

in my arms.

 

I looked into her face

perfect, beautiful, blue,

and gave her back.

 

I found the hospital chapel

Quiet, peaceful, still.

 

After I don't know how long

I looked up and asked

“Why? Why did this happen?”

 

And after a while, I left.

 

 

Tourists

 

After a day of sightseeing

under the warm blue June sky,

footsore, tired, and thirsty,

we bypassed the Louvre, on the bank of the Seine,

and opted for a different kind of art,

a sweet, creamy slice of gâteau St. Honoré

in a café

instead.

 

 


Victor Kennedy teaches English and American literature at the University of Maribor, Slovenia. He is the author of several books and articles on songs and song lyrics, including Strange Brew, and editor of collections including Words and Music, and Symphony and Song. His poems have been published in Trouvaille and Crumbs. He is the guitarist for the surf band Strici iz ozadja and bassist for the rock band Invite (songs available on Youtube).

No comments:

Post a Comment

Five Poems by Ken Holland

    An Old Wives’ Tale     I’ve heard it said that hearsay   i sn’t admissible in trying to justify one’s life.     But my mother always sai...