Six Poems by Ira Rosenstein

tries

the Sun

    rising at dawn

       tries us again

Do They Stand For Anything?

White is the dove

That walks by my door,

Then flies above.

And black is that ominous crow

That sits on my fire-escape,

And will not go.

Just Do It

I cut my nails.

I look out the window.

I lie on my back.

I stare at the ceiling.

Just do it!

human defiance

he told heaven

fuck off

i'm a god too

mortal poet

go with your body for a time,

and, if you choose, rhyme

Late

Day dies;

The room surrounds me, dark.

Rosepetals dry,

And feel like parchment.

And as stark. 

I touch the pentip

Once,

And tap it on my beard,

And tap it on my heart,

My life a writer, and a dunce.

Four more lines--

I wonder, should I write?

Oh, why not, the rhyme is there--

It's night.

Ira Rosenstein is a poet in New York City and has also been a playwright, novelist, musical book writer, blog writer, and radio producer (with even a little bit of anchoring and talking on-air). His latest book (unpublished) is The Winter Hunt, 104 poems/poem hybrids in 327 pages, ranging from Meres to very long story  poems/hybrids.

More of his writing, poetry and prose, can be read at irawrites.com.