Three Poems by Steve Sibra

WELL-TO-D0 POETS OF ARKANSAS

Land-locked states are places of few words

but dry tongues are twice as sharp,

bite like wounded sharks.  She smiles

from her red devil recliner,

drifting into anthems of catatonia.

She calls this her dream job, sits

all day in a Barca lounger,

offspring cling, crawl up and down

her frame, calling her name.

She hums a favourite tune,

knitting spider webs in the shape

of desert buffalo wallows,

darkness swallows her poems - 

tales of Arkansas elite

bloody fists gripping broken teeth

Ground rumbles and tumbles under her,

bulging with caskets jammed 

full of cash, every tombstone a keyhole

unlocking her next, best verse

MY FATHER’S LIGHTNING 

My father left the farm one summer

took a railroad job in Tupelo

named me the man of the house

"If anything is wrong you will know"

he said.  My mother stayed behind

with the passing of time, other men

came and carried in their darkness

On a sombre night, in the core of a storm

my father returned in lightning's form

I stood in the field and watched him arrive

I was glad and sad and scared

I never felt more alive

From the eye of his hurricane

my father looked down and saw my face

he knew what I knew and inside him

I watched as his thunder grew

He stood outside the house in his rain

electric hands in his pockets

smoke coming from eye sockets

I hid behind a tree, too scared of fear

to flee or find a safer place

With a roar my father's lightning struck

house erupted in flame, my mother

in bed with a man who had taken his name

I smelled the stench of sin

knew my mother was gone

would never be back again

It singed me only a little

when I held my father's hand

together we walked into the sky

to grow up and grow old in another land.

IGNORANCE

ignorance is its own reward

just add violence

it makes its own gravy

ignorant man, he knows all

never bothers to see both sides

of his mind, knows how to listen

to the wisdom of self

only cure for ignorance

humble acceptance of fault

turn yourself inside out

find beauty in the ugliness

strength to forgive yourself

STEVE SIBRA is a writer from north central Montana who has published his poetry and prose in dozens of places over the past thirty years - literary journals, magazines, newspapers, blogs and videos.  He is venturing into the realm of writing lyrics for rock songs with a member of an internationally known band.  Steve lives in Seattle with his wife Stacey and a variety of critters.