Daybreak Rises, by Mark Tulin
On the West Coast,
stars hang over
palm trees,
crescent moons
display a gentle
tilt,
nights grow shorter,
tides move further
out to sea,
daybreak rises,
setting up its stakes
like the homeless
who line the dunes
with makeshift tents,
who fish for food
and bury their past
deep in the sand.
The Heartfelt Catatonic, by Mark Tulin
My
client often lapsed into a fugue state
His eyes rolled to the back of his head,
body rigid in the
distant past
where crimes go
unnoticed
He
could sit in one spot without moving,
labeled a waxy catatonic,
drooling dreams and
memories
out of the corner of
his mouth
Friends tried to break his stupor,
scolded him for
acting like a child,
but he refused
to shift his posture,
standing in one place
for hours
My
client had a heart the size of a mountain,
a soul that
flowed downstream like a river,
and
will always remain a captive,
loud on the inside
and silent on the out.
Flower Power, by Mark Tulin
I walk in beautiful gardens
to feel the flower
power,
to ride its pollen grains
to plants unknown,
to fly with the wind
and rest in green
meadows
where the roses
cluster,
to dream of my first
yearning
where memories were
sweet
and love bloomed
and wilted.
Truth’s Slippery Essence, by Mark Tulin
As a poet,
I search for the
truth,
speak to what’s real
but I seldom do
Instead, I become one
man
with two minds
and notions crossed
It’s not easy
being a sojourner
of truth
It’s downright hard
to be a rebel of
honesty
when there’s a revolution
of one
I reach out with good
intentions
and grab truth’s
slippery essence
with uncertain
fingers
and watch my version
of reality
slide from my grasp
into murky waters.
Stunning poems Mark. Congratulations.
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