Poems
Original Poetry by Warren GastonThe Kitten
The kitten is a quiver, muscles flex tense fur softens form, bone structure, cat architecture, ancient lineage, unmistakable shape, unrelenting instincts: lion, tiger, leopard, lynx. My legs are stabs and scratches. The cause. Claws. The kitten climbs me seeking...
Sleepless
From the far distant east the sun races morning toward darkness. . But I am not ready for morning. Let there be night.
Four Poems on Ecstatic Dance
I The wind longs to see itself dance across the earth, caressing breezes, pummeling storms. With my body as its mirror, the wind winces seeing itself reflected in my dance.. II. I am a cloud and music is the wind. dancing, I give shape to sound, as a cloud makes the...
Bird Brain
A bird sitting on the bird bath suddenly flies fifty feet away to a tree branch. I want to know, in what form of thought did the bird make up his mind to fly? What form of thought guided his flight until he got to where he wanted to go?
Night’s Question
The night wants to know, what are you going to do with its gift of darkness?
The Buddhist’s Dilemma
To want nothing more than to want nothing more.
At the Museum
At the railroad crossing we stop for a train. Box cars, hoppers, tankers, flat cars fly by. The train is no nonsense, practical as a hen. In a railyard, a vandal with an eye for color, the need for surfaces and cans of spray paint has transformed them into graffiti ...
My Father’s Boxes
Time in five boxes, my father’s life, photos, flags, postcards from far places letters to and from home, some I wrote to him, some he wrote to me, moments, not mementos, memories timed out now retimed.
Now and Then
I am looking at a family photo album , pictures of me as a child among the dead. My parents are dead, my grandparents are dead, my aunt and uncle are dead, my boyhood dog Frisky is dead. They were alive when the pictures were taken. I am alive but older now than they...