Poem of the Week #73 and #72

#73 - May 24

On the Way to Work

The cottontail darted out.
I wish I could have raised a shout

to warn the bunny of my weight
and that my course was dead-on straight.

I would have liked to swerve my wheel
so not to hear the bunny squeal.

My metal box, it laid him flat,
I cannot bring the bunny back.

He took a risk, he did not know
he’d leave his life upon this road.

And as I venture on my day
his breathless body marks my way.


Lisa Vihos


#72 - May 17

On the Way to Death

On the way to death,
I stopped awhile
to sing or song or two.
I made a friend,
played in the sand
and learned to tie a shoe.

I prayed a prayer,
had not a care
and rode the carrousel.
I smiled at the up and down,
and held the sea
inside a shell.

My days were long,
my nights were short
as day to day I leapt.
From cloud to cloud
and dream to dream
I barely ever slept.

Until I came
upon the door
that led me to death’s place.
And there I laid
my baggage down
and joined the human race.


Lisa Vihos

Poem of the Week #71

The View from Above

The farm field in spring
is lush and verdant. No one
imagines it lying fallow.

When day turns to night,
the moon soaks the field
in the sun’s missing rays.

Don’t cling to people and things
like a hawk with your claws
tearing their backsides.

Hold fast with both hands
open. Then, be like the wind,
a spreader of seed.

Let people love you
the best way they can—
not your way. Remember,

everyone is broken. No one
is perfect. Or rather, everyone is
(when viewed from above)

a green field in moonlight.


Lisa Vihos

Poem of the Week #70

The Tyranny of Rainbows

Every elementary school art teacher knows
the tyranny of the ubiquitous rainbow,
the easy cliché of the multi-colored arch on the page.

Rainbows appear second only to horses in drawings
by school girls, and it is not uncommon to find the two
existing side-by-side in one bucolic scene.

Boys are on the prowl to find the pot of gold,
but anyone with any sense knows that this cannot be.
A rainbow will always keep its distance.

Like seagulls on the beach or the moon
when you are watching it from a moving car,
a rainbow will always stay just ahead of you,

at least until you go too far and it vanishes entirely.
So. What is the attraction to rainbows? Sure,
they are fleeting. Or should I say evanescent?

They are lovely, rare, and might I add, beautiful.
Maybe it is because they always seem to come
out of nowhere, not unlike death; taking your breath away.


LisaVihos