The Poetry Of..
Nathan A. Baker...........................
Fires of November
November has come early
Cleansing autumn with rain
Dogwood leaves lay washed
Only bare branches remain
Quiet the fields surrounding
In stillness the furrows fade
Gray the rows of celebration
Ripe bounty long weighed
Orange weeps the pumpkin
Crying for summer's gourds
Pining for the finch and warbler
Loosed from roosting boards
Safely wrapped in worn gray siding
Reminiscence finds love abiding
Night Sounds
Cricket din
Questions volleyed
Repeated couplets
Rubbed to
Signal an amorous
Rendezvous
Or maybe just
War's declaration
Summer performed
This same concerto
Once beneath
Carolina stars
A Fort Bragg solo
Etched in memory
Jukebox Sabotage
I was always playing a country tune
Or some simple blues song sung low
But she was full-bore rock & roll
Sung with force and out of key
Gyrating to rhythms of her own drum
We walked down some dark corridors
With her leading the way; vast halls
Filled with moving walls and doors with
False knobs that glimmered and opened
Into empty rooms without floors
Doorways to time... where discarded
Wishes danced on wings of imagination
Voices beckoned me to enter and I did
But only a time or two swimming
In the warmness of her universe
Tracing starlight with eyes wide open
Up to then my heroes had always
Been cowboys but she left me
Whistling a vintage Doors tune
After setting my whole world on fire...
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