Poetryzine magazine presents the selected poems by the American poet Roger Carlisle
Nebraska
There are no hills, only flatness as far as the eye can see.
I stand on flat ground studying the spooling furrows of dark earth
spreading like a tide in every direction.
I cross through fertile fields of corn and soy beans,
with a few rocks and nests of pheasants,
bobwhite quail, dirt mounds left by gophers and prairie dogs.
There is a single row of gnarled trees by the farm house.
They are as old as I am, bent and wind blown,
twisted from their battle with the weather.
I stare at them until we merge, remember visiting
the farm as a child, realize how long I have
been away.
A missing tooth
Oh, How I loved your crooked smile
your warmth, forgiving trust, embracing me.
You came from the country and always paid your
medical bills in cash. You wore coveralls and work boots.
Your poverty and pride always broke my heart.
You loved yourself so naturally,
shared your black and broken teeth so shamelessly.
Twas the warmest smile I had ever seen.
I imagined us dancing in a bright summer field,
without right and wrong, our souls singing together.
First morning
Before I awaken
I love that first second in the morning
when I am half awake and time is frozen;
I’m listening to the morning,
I feel my breathing,
I smell the night blooming jasmine;
the sounds of the birds are pure;
I am suspended in silence,
it is a moment of pure pleasure;
my thinking has stopped;
my quiet mind can only listen;
my breathing calls me to drink
the life that is waiting inside.