Poem Submitted to Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest
Tiempo
Time masters my world.
The clock spins at dizzying speed
The seconds thunder by
When I need them –
Creep past at snail’s gait
When I wish to speed them.
Webinars are too long,
My eyes glaze over.
Deadlines come too soon –
The report is due when?
To read for an hour is either
An age or an ephemeral blip.
Yes, time masters my world –
But I need twenty-eight hours in a day.
Rainstorm in Juarez
A blast of wind
Blows signs, trash, and sand
At the Rio Grande.
An electric flash
Stops a burlesque show –
Darkens the corner bar.
Watched from a leaking shop
The frantic scrambling
As the torrent
Scrubs the streets free
Of people and debris.
Flooded gutters, thunder,
Traffic snarl
And drizzle provide escort
To those returning home.
Submitted to The Desert Exposure Writing Contest in 2022 – Won an honorable mention in the poetry category.
Submitted to Poetry Contest, the Poetry Society of So. Carolina, January 26, 1971 – Fenton R. Kay
Mountains
The multi-layered chocolate cake
Was dropped,
And the layers
Bent and slid and crumpled.
Look at those mountains
In the morning light?
You think they were
Dropped on that lake?
Sidewinder
Sinuously sliding, the snake
Looped and threw his coils.
Traversing the sand from north to south,
He points north-northeast.
Comment
Geese in a wheatfield
Feeding, gabling, moving on.
Claude’s family scanner.
Comment 2
The sun and the moon
Make a day complete
And brothers, a family.
Cobwebs
Silken ropes that span
The space where dust slowly drifts.
Cobwebs by my desk.
Dust Bowl
On the edge of the desert
They viewed the sand
Blowing – and one said,
There goes the land –
If there was water
There might be trees.
Written 9/3/91 or thereabouts
Gail
Bright, clear –
The breeze from the bay
Moves up the hill.
What a treasure –
The world is pleased today.
Claude
Singular – at once obvious.
Your presence shouts!
There are not many
Who dare to stand out.
Peggy-2
There you are
With green eyes
And flaming hair.
My soul lies bare
Within your gaze.
This is my very first poem – an epic written as an assignment for English, my Jr. year in H.S. – 1959
The Song
The Viking’s call
O’er the Norseland rings,
Odin, Odin,
He wildly sings.
His song is wild
But full of dreams.
Dreams of woods
And gilded streams.
A great black log
Where once he rest
And strung a shaft,
His bow to test.
A graceful doe
And fawn did play
On a meadow there,
Carefree, gay.
The grass was green –
Did swing and sway
In gentle breezes,
Like unmown hay.
A bird raised voice,
Warbled and sang.
Sang of spring
In love’s sweet slang.
A roe deer stag
Forward did step,
Testing the air,
Forward he crept.
Twang did the bow,
The shaft it sped;
It struck in flesh;
Blood ran red.
Again sighed peace.
The test was passed.
On he moved,
On to the last.
Dreams of peaks,
Of craggy rocks,
Jagged teeth
Caves like pocks.
Where Gods abound
On snowcapped peaks,
And eagles fly
To scream and shriek.
Dreams of fjords
Walled by cliffs,
With cataracts
That roar down rifts.
Down to the water
Deep and cold,
Ventured in only
By brave and bold.
Of sailing there
In a dragon ship.
Down to the sea
On a plunder trip.
The way he fought
Their blood ran cold.
“Kill then all,
Young or old”.
Returning home, Booty full,
And not one loss
Was in their hull.
Home to the fjords,
The woods and knolls,
The craggy peaks,
The caves and holes.
All these dreams
Are in his song –
His song of lust,
Of life lived long.
A life of blood,
And tender love,
Of dragon ships
And plunder trove.
This song no more
Will he sing.
He died that day,
To steel’s cold ring.
Three Haiga by Fenton R. Kay
Published Online at EskimoPie.net – Feb, Mar, & April 2019
Six Haiku by Fenton R. Kay
Your Old Adobe
Squat, white mud house.
Someone’s labor bore it;
Child of earth and sweat.
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New Day
The sun rose today,
And my eyes were brighter than
Its glint on that stream.
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On Being A Student
Working hard to know
What others already know,
Then adding to that.
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Sonoran Desert
Winter storm torrents –
Rain-soaked earth brings a lily
To the summer’s kiln.
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Dust Devils
On shimmering flat
Hot and cool air – vortex formed.
Desert Gods on tour.
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Linnets on My Feeder
Crew-cut kid begging
And red-faced dad avoiding –
Fledgling feed yourself!
Published online in Eskimo Pie – January 2019
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A Batch of Poems from Down the Years
Sierra Sunset
Coffee in hand, I gaze west.
Sierra sunset watched
From my quiet room.
Trees on nearby ridges –
As stubble on my morning jaw.
Sky’s edge yellow
Turning to blue –
Toward black.
Silent green and brown
Hills and ridges slowly darken.
I belong here
In this valley closed
Around by sagebrush,
Pinyon splashed hills.
The smell of sage –
The quiet of sunset –
Unpublished – 1980’s – Fenton R. Kay
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On Being A Student
Working hard to know
What others already know,
Then adding to that.
Unpublished Haiku – Late 1990’s – Fenton R. Kay
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Hate
Hate –
Glowing fiery
In the breast
Of one you love.
Muscles tense –
Eyes begin to smolder
Red as a blooded
Knife.
Foul words
Erupt
Like living
Coals from a
Volcano.
His body shakes,
As with fever –
And a gap
Is widened
Between brothers.
Published in The NEVADAN, Sunday, April 15, 1968 – Fenton R. Kay
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Meditation
Superior to all on earth
Is man,
As by his hearth
He sits – and there reviews
His worth, while chimpanzees use
Sticks as tools –
And evolution continues.
Fenton R. Kay – Published in The NEVADAN, Sunday, July 14, 1968. – Fenton R. Kay
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Act II, Scene I
Swishing softly
Through the trees –
The wind.
Dancing lightly
Down the vale –
The brook.
Watching brightly,
Eyes aglow –
A child.
Fenton R. Kay – Published in The NEVADAN, Sunday, March 18, 1968.
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Coast
We stand and view
The fog roll in –
Behind the spume
Another wave.
The wave rolls in
Against the cliff
And gives the wind
Its foam and spray.
The fog moves up –
Up and over;
And fills the cup of sea to full.
Fenton R. Kay – Published in The NEVADAN, Sunday, June 2, 1968 – Fenton R. Kay
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The Grass
The grass is growing,
Watch it rise!
It writhes and twists,
Bends and bows.
Now this way,
Now that,
It hurls its pleading
Seeking blades upward.
Listen to it growing!
Its hoarse shrieks;
Painful groans;
Heart-rending sobs.
Growth ends.
Full maturity.
Proud blade among many.
Brawny blade in summer sun.
With autumn’s chill
It withers and shrinks,
Wilts and molds.
Sinking back –
Returning to dust,
As everything will;
It served its purpose –
Made the world green.
Unpublished – 1960-61 – Fenton R. Kay
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Desert Storm
The dark clouds drop
Rain lightly – or thrash the earth –
There is no pain.
Gaia takes the falling drops
Gratefully.
Unpublished – 1990s – Fenton R. Kay
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March Winds
March winds still must blow
Across the land and make a show.
Like a politician blows his horn,
And takes the land by barnstorm.
Unpublished – Early 1960s – Fenton R. Kay
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Winter Thought
The sharp-fanged cold
Has a firm hold
On the tender
Throat of the land.
Published in The NEVADAN, Sunday, March 18, 1968 – Fenton R. Kay
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Search
I searched for many
Years –
What I sought
I never found.
What I found
I never sought!
I searched for man.
I found
Animals
Reeking!
Unpublished – Early 1960s – Fenton R. Kay
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Voyageurs
A gull screams in insolent
Fury
As in passing by, we disturb
His fishing.
With full sheet to the
Wind
We wend our way
South.
Over the ever-rolling
Sea
We venture in a sailing
Boat,
Looking or and finding
What
The world has almost
Lost.
Enjoyment, real enjoyment
And peace of mind we have
Found.
A thing much rarer than
Gold, Is man’s mastery of
Himself
And nature’s ever-changing
Forces.
The wind guides us
Over
The blue-green waters of
The Pacific.
The swells rock us to sleep
At night.
The sea is our only
Larder,
And the deck of the boat
Our home.
Published or at least Submitted to something called Contact, Jan. 1963, also submitted to a poetry contest, The Poetry Society of So. Carolins, January 26, 1971 – Fenton R. Kay
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Pursuit
Go like hell –
Run!
Flee with speed –
Hide from your pursuer.
Dash madly toward
Freedom;
Don’t get caught!
Run, hide, flee –
You can’t hide!
You can’t run fast enough!
You are fleeing
From yourself!
Published or at least Submitted to something called Contact, Jan. 1963 – Fenton R. Kay
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Sight and Smell
Blossoms of indigo.
Spring breezes sigh.
But –
Brown, green, red,
And
Yellow still are.
Spring flowers
Nor breezes hide
The effluvium of war.
Published in the Univ. of Nevada, Las Vegas Yearbook, 1969 – Fenton R. Kay
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These were submitted to poetry contests – never got a reply as far as I can recall.
Autumn in San Francisco
The night brings fog
That lifts by day.
Sunny days that show
Your houses, row on row –
Your bridges spanning
A gray-green bay.
Then the sun gets tired –
And the fog is hired
To mask and cover
Your dirt and rust.
Submitted to Poetry Contest – Marshall, Illinois, January 17, 1971 – Fenton R. Kay
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Desert Storm
Towering thunderheads
Pour
Or slate-gray sheets
Weep.
Thrashing torrents or
Silken mist
Come to the parched earth,
Which accepts the water
Gratefully.
[There’s another version of this one] Submitted to Poetry Contest, The Poetry Society of So. Carolina, January 26, 1971 – Fenton R. Kay
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OLD and NEW
The stoic young spire
Stood and stared at the
Starry-eyed, tottering old
Doubly frescoed doric.
An ancient colonial
Mansion wept bitter
Green ivy tears as
The plate glass palace of
Modern mode lorded
Life on a hill above.
The old crumbled and
Moldered into mossy
Oblivion.
The new turned old,
Was replaced by newer;
Lost to newest and
Fell to ruined remains
And dust – dirge.
The dust packed, piled, and
Pressured into hard,
Harder, hardest stone
And sunk slowly out
Of man’s meager sight.
Stone is quarried for stuff to build from.
Buildings are built.
The new turns old –
The old totters and falls –
Turns to dust, to stone
To new.
Submitted to poetry contest, The Poetry Society of So. Carolina, January 26, 1971 – Fenton R. Kay