Poems
Original Poetry by Warren GastonA Genealogy* of Warfare
A man named Henry died fighting General Lee. Had he lived, he would have married Mabel Morgan and been my great grandfather. He did not. That honor went to a man named David, my mother’s grandfather. A man named Charles died fighting Kaiser Wilhelm. Had he lived, he...
A Nature Poem
Why can’t there be flowers in my poems, why can’t there be birds, why can’t there be bees. Why not a column of mountains ranging down a column of words? Where is Yeat’s bee-loud glade, William’s greeny asphodel. Where are Steven’s Key West palms or Mary Olivers' 'Wild...
Plant Power
If left alone, over time, nature will eat the uninhabitable city, brick by brick, building by building, block by block, even swallowing the indigestible core of a nuclear power plant.
False Advertizing
Available for Hire: King's horses and men specializing in the reconstruction of broken eggs.
George Orwell – 1984
Last night on 48 Hours, or was it 2020 ABC, no, it was Dateline the night before on channel 3 we watched a documented murder being solved. A husband came home at three a. m. and, discovering his wife stabbed dead on the blood smeared kitchen floor ran out the front...
The Ride of Not Knowing
This poem should be finished by now. It's gone on too long even though just began. Already I can tell you it won’t tell you much. I should know. I’m writing the poem. The only way even I will know what this poem is about is to keep writing. If I quite writing now I...
The List
Make a list of all the things you want to forget about your life. It may not be easy to remember. It may take time. Take a day. A couple of days. A week if needed. Some may need a month. Effort may be required. Review each breathing season year by year. Carry a...
Mother’s Day: May 10, 2020
Celebrating Margaret Elizabeth Gaston (1915-1990) Today I salute my mother, a blend of grit and grace, both magical and practical. She never lived in a house her family owned. Her father, a minister, was provided a parsonage when she growing up and her husband, my...
The Itch
I was having coffee with a friend. Two tables over and one down sat two women doing the same, to me total strangers, to each other friends. The one with her back to me twice, three times reached her hand behind her neck and with a bent finger below her collar...