Three Poems by John Harold Olson

 

Gloria or Prodigal Blues

 

I wear a St Rita medal 

(My mother was Rita)

and a medical dog tag

In case I go down.

 

Just yesterday, said 

Time didn’t exist.

Tonight, I’m thinking

It goes by too fast.

 

It’s too late to go home.

It’s too late to be stupid.

 

The Vistells playing “Gloria”

In the gym (1967). They’d bring 

the  beloved former drummer up

to sit in, and the current 

drummer was front and centre to sing.

 

It was like seeing Lake-In-The-Clouds

After climbing that trail.

 

The assured confidence of that

drum rolling through the chorus.

 

I think I’d like to sit down now

and listen to the Earth breathe.

 

“The Earth abides,” sayeth Ecclesiastes, 

Or was it George R. Stewart?

 

Untitled 

 

Slow motion tide

Swirling around her feet 

and hem of her long dress,

Arching her back

Playing her violin

 

Linda, in her zone

Forgot I was there

 

Sandpipers 

The edge of the sea

 

Untitled 

 

There used to be sunlight

and a family of 

Angelfish above

In the grass,

not still

but moving gently

In the filter’s current.

Somebody lost interest

And the water is foul,

The angel fish float on 

the surface,

The filter is quiet.

Is somebody coming?

John Harold Olson - Is a retired Special Education teacher in Las Vegas. Transitioning to being a hospice volunteer.