gone

I cannot find my rhyme where did I put it seems as though it’s gone long gone it’s always been just there so I could use it anytime but I must have turned away just for a minute and now it’s gone at the closing of a day in the middle of a night when …

the idiot

Poem #25 from The Book of Evenings Back to: The Book of Evenings – Introduction he's as loud as a damned circus the idiot this is getting beyond a joke he's obviously stinking drunk singing and shouting by turns such an idiot she has been tolerant but it's enough the neighbours god knows what they …

orchestrated autumn

autumn snow is colored brown and gold falling from the oak tree the back yard is leaf-blizzard before the storm whipper-wind flays the branches cumulo-grumpus masses the skies a lightning fork from top to down a staff to conduct the show © Frank Prem, 2017 April 2017 Poem #01: one form of ‘good morning’

Whose six-pack? Whose scotch?

There are three of us in a babbling hotel, close to the happy hour. He is older than I, younger than my father. A man full of stories about the town that he left when he was young. A rich balladeer, unique in his capacity to reflect through the escapists fortune of having been away. …

a whole hour

Poem #24 from The Book of Evenings Back to: The Book of Evenings – Introduction whoa settle down honey we haven't even started yet you don't want to fly before we leave the ground now do you hmmm why don't you just hop in to the shower for me like a love while I fix …

frog call (ba bonk)

I was once a frog you know home upon a lily it seems a foolish time so far ago but all of us were young then a croak is like a call to love sent by one melancholy a croak is just a song to sing on wistful nights of ripples on the pond and …

company for a magpie

a magpie and a wagtail are keeping odd company on the park the magpie has no partner and is not part of a gang of bachelors he bustles on the ground in a few running steps this way and that pauses to assess and then hurries forward again the wagtail matches the running movements in …

towards kansas

Poem #23 from The Book of Evenings Back to: The Book of Evenings – Introduction he has listened to the story of a wonderful life a tragic affair high low swinging exhilaration despair watched her eyes welling tears that brimmed but never broke as she herself has not been been broken though close so very …

unravelling the code

ahhh the genie’s lamp she muttered to herself knowingly as though she had found what she expected what is it she glanced at me that you wish for? turning back to her work a bowl it is filled with fruit more bounty? perhaps perhaps she grasped my hand pointed at a pattern in the markings …

Hammered Gold and Gilded Tin

It is a grail of sorts, the quest for possession of a small but precious and growing thing, the evolution of a child. The taste of truth is crafted in a cup of beaten gold, shaped plain and unadorned of false or burnished pride. The cup of venality lies coated in thin enamel. Gilded stuff, …