4 Poems by James G. Piatt

And I Wept

Old memories emerged
in the shifting night hours
of tedious time
as a soot-covered train
evaporated into the darkness
of the night, and into my memories.
I then heard the stolen songs
of a mockingbird,
and the hoarse voices
of mourning doves, echoing
in the mist,
as rusting time danced
to the throbbing of an ancient lyre,
and as I pondered on life’s brevity and
death’s vast endlessness, I wept.

The Frog’s Voices

I listened to the voices of night frogs croaking in 

the late hours of the night,

and tried to understand the meaning of their messages echoing off the silver moon.

 

Their hoarse voices curled through my

somnolent mind, illuminating strange sounds from long-forgotten places. In the midst of their croaking, they spoke to me in a strange language of sorrow.

 

During the fading hours of the night, I searched for metaphors to translate the meaning of the frog’s melancholy mutterings as their voices continued to burst into the mysterious emptiness of the moonlit night, but I just ended up with a cacophony of sounds.

The Nights beginning

As the clock chimes twelve, 

the night begins, and the day 

vanishes into memories. As 

the moon, just a glowing 

silver orb bouncing against 

the crimson horizon watches 

the last hours of the day 

lingering like drops of tears, 

in silence: Stars, like blurry 

kerosine lanterns, gazing 

from millions of light years 

away, start splashing in the 

sky, and earthbound beings, 

wait for the night’s long 

hours to cover the sad 

messages of the weary-day.
And as our breath mellows,

and we fade into sleep, our 

minds drift into dreams of 

yellow roses, and soft pink 

cherry-tree blossoms.

The Ancient Pier

Inside cold ocean waves exist untold secrets, where philosophers, and even Bob Dylan, fail to grasp the meaning. And near the old blackened pier where waves break

with a thunderous din,

seagulls squawk ancient sea yarns while roosting on pilings near where lonely fishermen sit on benches, fish in silence, and spin briny tales.

Bionote

James lives in Santa Ynez, California in a replica of an 1800s Eastern farmhouse with his wife Sandy. He is a twice Best of Web nominee and four-time Pushcart nominee. He earned his doctorate from BYU and his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University. He has had five collections of poetry: Serenity, Solace Between the Lines, Light, Ancient Rhythms, and The Silent Pond, over 1765 poems, 
35 short stories, and five novels published worldwide.