House in Motion
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About this ebook
Paul Callaway brings you his first book of poems and prose in a collection that he's ever so slowly grown since he started writing poetry in 2001. Most of his poems are personal in nature, depicting moments plucked from childhood to present, from work life to love life, and everything in between. With a charm, wit and cynicism unique to him, Callaway puts a little bit of himself into each poem.
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Book preview
House in Motion - Paul Callaway
I
My thoughts are feeling a bit restless today
so if someone would point the way I think I’ll get going.
Charles Heilige
*****
tourist
Where to? Where to?
Where to in this wonderful land?
Drag me through your hills. Your valleys.
Draw me into your beautiful eyes.
I won’t mind-
Which way? Which way?
Which way to your meadowy vista?
Cart my curiosity across your countryside.
Cradle my love in your open arms.
I won’t mind-
What now? What now?
I’ve been this way twice over.
My devotion is driven like a tourist
returning to his favorite love.
I don’t mind-
What now? What now?
I’ve been this way thrice over.
Your every curve mapped with kisses.
Each kiss an old experience made to feel new.
I don’t mind.
*****
charity
Somewhere on the flanks of the city,
perhaps in the gentle descending streets
of downtown, as though poised on the verge of
discovery, a bounty of silver-copper diversity
lies pooled in charity along a water fountain’s floor,
glistening under the softly churning surface
like so many pocketful of forgotten
wishes waiting to be
1) collected
2) cashed
3) honored
In those summer time odysseys pedalled by youthful
enthusiasm atop an orange Schwinn
complete with a banana seat and ape bars,
I happened to make good on 2 out of 3 for them.
*****
disloyalty
Disloyalty is such a strong poison
that one drop, just one little drop
on a dogs tongue will kill the strongest man.
So it’s best to keep it bottled for a special day
and use it sparingly.
*****
a hard cold morning
A hard cold morning is what I remember most,
the frozen ground’s snowy ghost
crunching its wintery protest
under my every foot step,
and the night sharpened air
instantly biting at my ears
while the dry Februariness
does its best
to displace my breathing
with coughing.
Yet I kept walking,
my brother following
behind me, completing
our two soul convoy of silence - nothing spoken,
while ahead Pepper lies broken,
her time with us expiring during the night,
her body covered in a light
dust of white
snow and the yellow
glow
of the back porch light.
Brown eyes, still open and warm, seem to toast
us her final thanks, but
a hard cold morning is what I still remember most.
*****
masking tape on the bedroom floor
The math
was simple, even for a couple of kids
constantly fighting against the odds.
A path
you might say, to establish the order
of living arrangements between two brothers.
A dresser,
your bed and a narrow pathway to the door.
The rest is mine. Oh, spacious space galore!
What better
way to sum up our sibling relationship
than simple