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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn  3/1/2015 10:36:07 AM
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  ALBERT AHEARN
 
 
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  265.     

Just before the rain

I'm happiest when the weather
is gloomy and threatening rain.
Its tendency, this low pressure,
forces most people to remain
inside comfortable houses.
Outside becomes much quieter
assuming a shushed quietus
that wouldn't normally occur
if the day were a sunny one;
so I pray that this low holds fast
concealing the intrusive sun
behind the looming overcast
while I revel in its stillness
and its lugubrious bleakness.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  266.     

Kathleen

Oh Kathleen! You seem as distant from me
As some ancient nebulous universe
Yet near as last nights dreamy reverie.
Are you just luminous stardust dispersed
Into eyes of a starry-eyed lover
By some celestial fairy sandman?
Only to awaken and discover
That your loveliness is nothing more than
A dream imagined. Must I wipe away
This besprinkled magic dust that beguiles
me? To watch your lovely image this day
Fade from view, then reappear with a smile
At days end in a dream again of you.
Oh! Hasten sleep that I may dream anew.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  267.     

Kick The Can

A gray hanging sky loomed above
The ugly concrete monoliths
That chokes the cramped urban skyline.
For Christ's sake! Why doesn’t it rain?
Said the young, angry teen kicking
An empty Budweiser beer can
As he walked along the sidewalk;
That! (He kicked again) should happen
To those goddamn, so-called buddies
Of mine- A swift kick in the ass.
He kicked the can again, this time
It flew into the busy street.
Chasing after it a horn blared
But the car could not stop in time.
A light drizzle began to fall.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 

   
   
 

  268.     

Late Spring

Spring struggles to break winters hold
on its timely season onset.
The latent buds are reluctant
to sprout their protuberances;
robins haw vocal notes of song
while perched on stark swaying branches;
Crocuses spurn stifled tulips
abed for their impotency;
Sluggish hibernates’ hesitate
to waken from their dormancy
and fair-weather, housebound humans
unwilling to venture outside.
but soon a warm, vernal zephyr
will breathe life into everything
reviving consciousness of spring.
 
Albert Ahearn
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Albert Ahearn