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In the Laugh of Nightingales

In the Laugh of Nightingales

 

by Daniel Hargrove

Published by Daniel Hargrove at Shakespir

 

Copyright 2017 Daniel Hargrove

 

Cover art copyright 2017 Daniel Hargrove

 

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

 

This book is published for anyone’s enjoyment. Authors retain the copyright to their work. Users may read, copy and distribute the work in any medium or format for non-commercial purposes, provided the authors and the journal are appropriately credited. The users are not allowed to remix, transform or build upon the published material.

 

Table of Contents

 

01) In the Laugh of Nightingales

 

02) On a Warm Day

 

03) A Few Beers

 

04) Where the Light Stood Still

 

05) Barking up the Wrong Tree

In the Laugh of Nightingales

 

I spider’s web of shadows

caught my eye

deep as a nest of ferns

on the edge of a dark forest

I made my way into the

dense undertangle of wilds

only the light of the quarter moon

to guid my step

fifty yards in a turned

and looked back

I could see my Buick

parked by the old cabin

through the close trees

I pulled out my Bic lighter

and the leaves flickered dimly

in the gathering gloom

I took a step forward

the snap of a branch

but the snake missed

only because of the lonely star

that I only believed I saw

a firefly

landed on my sleeve

the lighter burned my thumb

and *ouch*

dropped to the ground

 

On a Warm Day

 

The sign said “Dead End”

but I walked on

there were a few pines

that had dropped prickly cones

that littered the sidewalk

a trash can had overturned

to my left

with a white house behind it

with a picket fence

a dog lie curled

by a small doghouse

his water bowl looking empty

but it was cool today

there was an antbed

by a telephone pole

with a branch sticking out of it

and a twelve year old kid

was kicking a soccer ball around

atht e end of the street

there was an orange and white barricade

with a pile of trash there

a mattress and box springs

an old torn up couch

and a bunch of yellow oil containers

there was a wooden fence behind the barricade

so I turned around

 

A Few Beers

 

She was a wild child

and every chance she got

she would get into my wallet

I’d notice ten missing

or a twenty

and she always had

a line of bull ready

and of course

I wouldn’t fall for it

but what can you say?

I’d tell her

all you had to do is ask

I told her that once

and she got so mad

she smashed my favorite mug

a root beer mug

that I got from my grandmother

I got so angry

that I almost called the cops

the cops would have laughed at me

however

the mug was irreplaceable

irreplaceable

I was going to kick her out

but she apologized

and got away with it

 

Where the Light Stood Still

 

I am already torn

like an old rag

used to clean the banister

that has seen its day

I turn off the lights

and get to work

in the gloom

the dust

is thick

and the scent of shadows

guides my hand

soon the white cloth

is dirty, an old dog

digging for a hambone

and yet she strikes water

bubbling up from the dank

of the muddy gumbo

I cannot see

and a ribbon of duskes

mars the sunup

without the layer of lies

the dull gleam of the flat paint

is locked and forgotten

already lost

in a maze of fingers

fumbling for a cigarette

where eyes never wander

 

Barking Up the Wrong Tree

 

There was no hope

of finding a good tree

to climb

I did not think

I had the strength

to climb the tall pine tree

I was sure I would fall

when I could not reach the limb above

and the limb I was standing on

started to creak

I clutched desperately at the bark

and now I was

holding on for dear life

I couldn’t get back down

and no use trying to climb

further up

obviously I couldn’t jump

without breaking both my legs

possibly my back

and maybe my skull

I was terrified

this was the only tree

in that

mostly barren park

which is why I climbed it

that day


In the Laugh of Nightingales

Well, I didn't think I'd ever publish another book, but here you are again, saddled with the task of reading more of my poems. This is a book of five poems. It is my best effort to resolve the dilemma I created for myself with my last book. I won't apologize, but tsk tsk...no one wrote me at the included email address. I'm doing better, I promise, though lately the paranormal has been quite an intrusion. It's those damn aliens again.

  • ISBN: 9781370040230
  • Author: Daniel Hargrove
  • Published: 2017-07-22 04:20:09
  • Words: 732
In the Laugh of Nightingales In the Laugh of Nightingales