Creeping Gray
By Andrew R. Duckworth There is pepper in my beard,And it didn’t get thereThrough the dinner table.Streaks of white have creepedUp on my scalp.I’ve heard it before-Stress and old age.I’m thirty five.My father has a head of white.Sometimes I want to dye my hair.Other times, I’m ready to embraceWhat is coming-The hair that comes throughExperience…
Sound of Tails
Andrew R. Duckworth Are those the cicadasAwakening from a long slumberAlmost a squeal?No cicadas.The snakes have come outNear the house, too near.I saw a wild dog in the green space.It stopped and sniffed somethingIn the tall grassAnd then backed away,Unsettled and cowering.And then that sound.It’s the sound of tailsRattling with violent urges.
At the Worst and Best
By Andrew R. Duckworth I had climbed a bit too highOn this ole tree of mine.Can’t even tell you how I got thereWith so few branches.But, when it came time to come down,I was frozen,Clinging to the trunkLike a wild cat.It took many voices to talk me downTo the solid ground.But soon I foundMy feet…
Wisdom Over Time
By Andrew R. Duckworth You’ll never be a wise oneAt day one.Don’t form a highbrowWhen you can’t see.I loved my parents,And then I hated them,And now I love them.We spend our youth dependent,But hellbent on getting loose,On untying the ropesAnd we begin resenting thoseWho keep us closeBecause they knowThat there is more to learn.And, the…
Nature’s Cruelty OR Fear
By Andrew R. Duckworth Not everything from natureIs of value.Observe the chimpanzee and see-Warring factions over resourcesUntil they make themselves tribesAnd fight to fight,Forgetting why they were fighting.When you see the rattlesnakeCoiled near your garden,Do you present your handFor it to strike?And what of the rattlesnake,Fearful of a strange new presenceIntruding upon its claimed land?Ask…
One Hundred Years
By Andrew R. Duckworth I’m unsure where we’ll beOr if we’ll be.Perhaps our light mightburn outAfter we hide it underThe last bushel basketAnd make enemies with A final foeOut of pure boredomBecause what other mannerShould we purgeOur rage?Perhaps we will be so connectedThat telling two apartIs impossible,No individual remaining,No individual meaning,Indistinguishable,All the same,All the same,Dying…
Grasping at Immortality
By Andrew R. Duckworth This vessel is temporary,Aging in an instantAgainst a scope unimaginable.But here we are,Grasping at immortalityAs if it is fruitReachable by our hands.But in that fruit is a poisonAnd we will gnaw on that fruitUntil we are one bite too late.
It’s a No, Elon…
By Andrew R. Duckworth Incentivize it all you please,But that gives me no more easeWhen you speak of chippingThis one, that one, the other one,Planting devices in the brain,Things we once thought insane,Or the subject of whack theoryFrom some wild man on the streetScreaming “The End is Coming!”It won’t touch my skull,No government can force…
What Changed?
By Andrew R. Duckworth In short, everything.Sweet blossoms replacedThe chipping leaves-Nourishment for another day.The small swallows built their nest,Let the fledglings rest,And soon, off they flew.Green replaced the gold,Enough for nature’s hold,And fresh rainsCleansed both body and soulWith a wakening tear from Heaven.God, I’ll keep it in my heartAnd defrost the frozen parts.
My Language
By Andrew R. Duckworth I once spoke in deep graves,My dialect was shadows and death,Swept along by the air’s breath.My language was the tempestSweeping and whipping the sea waves.There is still darkness there,A frost upon my core,But the ice crystals breakWith the thought of a new day,One when the shadows retreatAnd the winds calm,And death…
Loading…
Something went wrong. Please refresh the page and/or try again.
Follow My Blog
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.
Poetry of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 