Writing, Poetry, Short Stories, Reviews, Art Contests
A Poetry Showcase from Hiram Larew
Image by Kevin Mosc (Unsplash)
Ireland
If you had been with me
I wouldn’t have wandered the orchard
I wouldn’t have mossed over these edges
or thought so much about the dead
I wouldn’t have savored the café’s rain
or stepped down into the stone ruins so eagerly
If you had gone with me
the fuchsia shrubs wouldn’t have bloomed this red
and the bogs might not have glowed to amber.
I love you but if you had come along
The stewed fish wouldn’t have sung to me
this deeply with its harp
Well Born
When every day floats by
like smoothest cream
and all you’ve known are peaches
When every day is cream or sunny days
or languid sighs
While others try as may
If ever day is ladled cream
or spoons to lick
Then yes
what does someone else’s
curdled anger mean
If Briefly
I’ve never wanted anything so much
as roads to meander --
Gravel the better and dust through
some wandering summers
Or weedy musk-melons like childhood
gone off on a ramble
I’ve never wanted anything as much
as that kind of lost
And how I love to visit door-to-door
the memories made of ligustrum and rabbits
or fences
if even briefly
No I’ve really never wanted anything as much as
porch rugs
and how my bare feet
traveled on them
to distant cousins
or dreams
So please as I reckon
may I get one of three wishes
I’ve asked for --
to become vines hanging over
or to be a row of praying mailboxes
or wherever I go
to envy these springing
whooping grasshoppers
that leave me behind
Whiff
Open air is all my hearts
its beckon shirts my days
What wildly loves in me
grows in clumps
or tufts in rain or ditches
and never fails
This open air is my every kiss
as birds scoop straw that strays --
My out beyond
flies upside down
While side by side my simples wilt to grow
and homes of home are made
Largest is my love in open air
and steps to gathered chores
are what I am --
These sacred swoops of nows-to-then
and my being made of twine
of twirls or hope embraced
or dripping brims
of bucket-years that play
Bio: a blurb from Regie Cabrico, Larew's poems are psalms, driven by nature and memory, his language makes clouds gush and twigs listen to the chorus of trees. Larew's art is an abiding love for the earth and its man-made wonders: pyramids, bread, and barley swept brooms. Larew is a seeker and seer of sentience: when all is lost, there are gentle hyperboles that give hope and illuminate the living and non-living with halos. Every poem in Mud Ajar is a tiny blessing, an invitation to embrace the sky, the perfect panacea to the unprecedented frenzy we've been engulfed by, enabling us to reflect upon our own unflinching resilience. Mud Ajar packs a wallop of truths by a skilled and unpretentious poet gifted to shower lyrical beauty upon you like holy water.
Larew's poems have appeared recently in Poetry South, Contemporary American Voices, Honest Ulsterman and Iowa Review. www.HiramLarewPoetry.com and www.PoetryXHunger.com
Larew's newest collection of poems, Mud Ajar, has recently been released
by Atmosphere Press..
www.HiramLarewPoetry.com
David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com.
Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof
Facebook: DavidLONan1
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