New Poems by Tim Heerdink : Makes its Turn to Night, Pools of Azul, An Even Trade, Nomad & Coming Back to Shore

Makes its Turn to Night

You’re the kick in the grits when I awake
needed to get me out of my night fog.
Now, don’t let our banter make you mistake;
our love’s like an Irish lizard & its bog.
I know each scar you carry very well
such as the cig burn under your left breast.
A spot on the map of the place which I dwell;
it’s a checkmark from an unforgiving past.
Novels should be written in your sweet name
for we’ve lived many stories together
& the beast within me you’ve had to tame.
We shall embrace all this stormy weather.
      You are everything just & right
       when our bright day makes its turn to night.

Pools of Azul

Catatonic clock counting the missed
shots not acquiesced due to obscuration
caused by an absence of light to retina
ticks opposite usual frames of measure.

Listen, feel the pulse through tense air;
it’s singing a tune only for those able
to block all visual distractions away
with clouded eyes watching voids.

Beware the misleading whispers
escaping from long silenced mouths
of apparitions & impatient imposters
longing for a lone vulnerable host.

They only want to cause confusion
in times succumbing to great grief
paired with a stubbornness only
few ever manage to put aside.

An Even Trade

You know the age old dilemma;
give one life to save another.
More like take in some alternative
circumstances where the devil
intervenes with his proposition
to make all right for an individual.
Well, it only adds up for the snake,
slithering in grass, fangs showing
for the audience in on the joke.
I’ve seen some struggle 
on the choice to claim another
in the effort needed for salvation.
My hand doesn’t shake
when I sign near the inked x.
No, you can bet
I’m full aware of the consequence,
& there’s options noted
if the opportunity arises.

Nomad

Where do we go when we can no longer
call a house a home and move forward?

How is the direction determined
when you’re spun every which way
in a dizzying craze?

Perhaps the winds of fate
blow us where we need to be.

Nomads by nature,
avoiding predators,
persecution, & natural disasters
to preserve life in quantity
& quality.

Take only the essentials
on the next journey,
leaving an imprint
of your past self
for the newcomers
to erase.

Coming back to Shore

This time last year,
		I thought I wanted to jump
	into those cooling waters
& let my head go under,
	but now that I’ve drifted
		with the lighthouse out of sight
			for far too long,
		I can’t feel my limbs anymore
	& the only thing I really want
is to go home where love lies.
             It’d feel so good
                         to be within
                                    those walls once more.
                                             I can almost
                                    taste the salt
                         falling
             right off
my tongue.


Bio: Tim Heerdink is the author of Somniloquy & Trauma in the Knottseau Well, The Human Remains, Red Flag and Other Poems, Razed Monuments, Checking Tickets on Oumaumua, Sailing the Edge of Time, I Hear a Siren’s Call, Ghost Map, A Cacophony of Birds in the House of Dread, and short stories, The Tithing of Man and HEA-VEN2. His poems appear in various journals and anthologies. He is the President of Midwest Writers Guild of Evansville, Indiana.  

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Tim Heerdink  

Wolfpack Honorary Contributor: Tim Heerdink