Voyeur
One summer night
I got drunk on my ass,
And looked up the dress of the sleepy universe.
I saw sequined panties
Glittering in stars.
copyright © 1998 By Robert O'Brien
Medal of Freedom
She stood here in crushed elegance;
Her defeats burning in slight smile.
Love had trembled in her once
Until hubby pounded her
Into a medallion.
Now those careful eyes wait
Fearing...fearing...fearing
The hawk wing-shadow.
copyright © 1998 By Robert O'Brien
Word gardening
The poet swings the hoe very hard.
And sweat leeches from his forehead.
As glazed soil upward splashes,
The blackness burns off in hot light.
Roots sticky with salvia
Suck off the cool earth juices.
Soil hold the heart of the flower;
Roots store the nuances of words.
Much of a word is buried in used time;
Much of a flower is down not up.
Above towering and delicate words,
The excate words:
Tiffany petals sun-rayed glowing.
Poems become flowers because flowers shine.
copyright © 1998 By Robert O'Brien
Wars Begin At Home
War begins in the home.
You know the toys that shoot.
Kids crying.
Wife and husband screaming curses!
Dinner uncooked.
The theater of hurled chairs...broken plates.
And that awful quiet
Just before the cannon roars!
copyright © 1998 By Robert O'Brien
Playground
Love jumped into my heart
Like a child on a swing.
The glee and sheer joy
Swinging above earth...
The almost freedom
From yourself of it.
Now my heart unthrilled
Sits as still as ice,
And looks for some kid
Who wants to swing again
copyright © 1998 By Robert O'Brien