©2005 by Edmund Conti
Acknowledgments:
Some of these poems previously appeared in Light Year, Plains Poetry Journal, The Ed C. Scrolls, Slugfest, and Light Quarterly.
I
Confessional Poem
Sibling Rivalry
Downsizing Heaven
Job and the Amazing Technicolor M&Ms
Till Death Do You Part
Paradise
Pragmatist
II
We Hold These Prepositions
Still Life
Pitstop
Class Action
Rime and Punishment
Altruist
Trapdoor
III
Bless me, Reader,
For I have sinned.
It is four years
Since my last poem.
Abel and Cain (their story is sad),
One of them good, the other bad,
Had nothing in common
Except for their mom 'n'
Their dad.
The last time
I hailed Mary
She was driving
A cab.
Job and the Amazing Technicolor M&Ms
I like the pretty little fellows:
The oranges, the greens and yellows.
I even like the tan.
But when I go to down one
I always grab a brown one,
According to God's plan.
The spirit within you
Is here for the ride.
Its life will continue
When you've gone and died.
Adam and
God.
Apocalypse soon
Coming our way;
Ground zero at noon;
Halve a nice day.
Those days can't be topped,
Of that we've no doubt,
When we turned, tuned and dropped
On, in and out.
Fly swatter.
Fly flatter.
Here, alone and sad I sit,
No trash can in my reach.
There's no place I can hide the pit.
Do I dare to eat a peach?
The world, alas, is
Split in two classes:
Those you cotton to;
Those you're rotten to.
I met the Ancient Mariner;
Two friends were there with me.
I was addressed (you may have guessed)
as 'stupid one of three.'
Does he mind all this giving?
Is it what he must do?
Is there ever, perhaps, a misgiving
Or two?
At the end of your rope is
A noose where the rope ends.
When one door closes
Another door opens.
You live
You die
With syllables to spare
Ten million stars shine
On a multi-storied night
And I write three lines!
three zebras
horsing around
in pajamas
How do I love thee?
Let me count the syllables
...sixteen, seventeen
Kansas!
Where the world is flat
We're off to see the wizard
The wolf-moon shines
and the dog remembers
woof woof woof
Night!
I with gin.
"Atomic balm" says Bob McKenty of Conti's style, referring to the explosive potential of compressed language, as well as, perhaps, to the Freudian release of nervous laughter at our own foibles and fears. Among Conti's honors are the Willard R. Espy Foundation prize for light verse, and featured poet in Light Quarterly. He invented the word game Bananagrams, and is a master of William Cole's verse-invention, the river rhyme. Email him at Edmundpoet@aol.com.