Lake Poets
By: Charles Giuliano - Oct 07, 2021
Lake Poets
Stressed to the max
Razor's edge
Tipping over
Dripping wax
From both ends
Senior social life
Appointments and procedures
Day-after-day
Rising early
Bennington to Pittsfield
Probed and poked
Both of us
Tossed and turned
Old and worn
Frayed and torn
My mouth ripped up
Oozing blood
Stopped at Whitney’s
To change gauze
Something went wrong
It slowly passed
She drove on
Needing a break
Stopped by the lake
Near the boat ramp
None that school day
In early October
Clear and bright
Sun was
Intense and hot
Absorbing vitamin D
She reveled in rays
At stone table
We sat in silence
Cultivating stillness
I thought of Wordsworth
The Lake Poets
Truth to Nature
Ruskin wrote
Then of Chekhov
That Wadsworth
My poet friend extolled
The short stories
Our literary lunch
At the Break Room
Am I a lake poet
I wondered
For this is a lake
Am I not a poet
Well perhaps not
As I told him
In the poetic sense
All wimpy fluff
Pretty words
Saccharine metaphors
Pigeons in the park
Monkeys at the zoo
And I on the
Opposite shore shall be
Rather sitting on
The Dock of the Bay
How I prefer
The Inferno
Seems more real
Cinema Verite
Heart of darkness
Bill and I
Talked about that
You’re a romantic
I thought otherwise
So it went
Back and forth
The edge of the lake
Our glorious pause
Was edged in red
Nature just beginning
To show its true colors
Reflected by calm water
Mirror of mountains
I shut my eyes
Cultivating stillness
Heard the cars
Traffic on Rte. Seven
Not evoking heaven
Impossible to
Rid the mind of
White noise
Annoying head music
Constant static
Tinnitus
Even while sublime
Were you meditating
She asked softly
Not really
Just dozed off
Like watching TV
Ready to leave
We both took pictures
Wanting our reverie
Sustained in memory