ron. lavalette
By The Dozens
He kills as many as he finds, throws them
into the wheelbarrow. Their bloody eyes
stare up at him in astonished adoration,
freed at last from the earthly burn of air,
dust in the lungs, not enough to eat ever,
always running away from everything,
terrified. They seemed to anticipate
the fall of the ax, the swing of the hoe
or the heel of the boot to come down
on their fragile skulls and the sudden
long silence that followed; seemed almost
to look up, welcoming, as the end,
once it was inevitable, approached.
…
Sunset Over Oakwood Park
All day long, in the sunlight: the park.
The shadows shifted, lengthened,
made green greener where I rested
in the shade, cooled, lulled, heavy-lidded,
longing to lie on the grass an hour longer
under the influence of birdsong
on the best of possible April days.
At last the long shadows merged,
stretched to the farthest edges of the park,
the tops of the oaks caught a fleeting fire,
the darkness deepened, the sun
became a final sliver of gold, and was gone.
…
Sign-Off
I’ve had enough of that, he said,
pressing a button, ending the newscast,
putting an end, finally, to the useless
bombing of sand dunes and babies.
Then, half-reclined against the bedrail
he pressed another button, turned up
the morphine drip to maximum, closed
his eyes. I’ve had enough, he said.
…
Ron. Lavalette coordinates services to psychiatrically disabled adults in the very northeastern corner of Vermont, land of the fur-bearing lake trout and the bi-lingual stop sign, barely a snowball’s throw from the Canadian border. He’s been widely published both in print and online. A reasonable sample of his published work can be found at Eggs Over Tokyo. Ron. regularly blogs at Scrambled, Not Fried.
Boy, are you good at tone and mood. The last five lines of the first poem hits me each time I read. Powerful. The second poem makes me want to be in the scene. The third is horrifying and understandable. Thank you.
margo
Thanks for the kind words, MR; I’m happy that my work pleased you.
The contrasts between the three poems makes a fascinating collection. The violence of the first (snails? slugs?) makes the tranquility of the second even more calming, while the resignation in the third goes straight to my heart. A great choice, James/Tessa, from Ron’s eclectic output.
♥ “Sunset Over Oakwood Park” – the cinematic scope of this piece swept me away, mesmerizing me… excellent writing…
Thanks, rob; appreciate the feedback.
I don’t know how to comment about poetry as the others have, but these are very powerful poems for me. In fact, I haven’t read one of your poems that isn’t. I’m glad we bumped into each other.
Thanks, Andree. The fact that you bothered to comment is is reward enough. See you around, neighbor!.
The last one is my favourite: sad, bitter, inevitable.
Sad, bitter, and inevitable is my specialty. But you knew that, dincha?
I think that I would like to read “Sunset” every night about this time…the perfect exhalation at the end of a long day.
You’re always a favorite of mine…and these three punctuate that fact.
~ PW
I’m always happy anytime anyone states an interest in reading anything I’ve written more than once. As for the ‘favored’ status: likewise, I’m sure.
And I adore the first, the most. Something some beautiful in all that carnage. I can’t not read it, over and again.
(Proud to be hanging with you here.)
Life is carnage. Sometimes it’s slow, sometimes it’s not. I’m pleased you found some beauty in it, as I always have. Thanks.
I read that first one several time… the violence, the peace all at once. Powerful and unflinching as is the last, and the moment of peace between the two is just so vivid. Together, these three are a powerful collection. I’m happy to have discovered your work here.
Thank you, Mr Brush. I’m glad to have found your work as well.