Unfinished

Unfinished

By: James Dubeau

What is this

What am I doing

Sitting in the coffee shop

Drinking it black

While tapping keys

Idly working on

One project

Than another

Before losing an hour

Or maybe three

Surfing the web

For this and that

Why is there no focus

Why is nothing finished

Where did it all go

When I was not looking

Did my muse run off

Taking my creativity with her

Did stresses surmount all else
Do I not want to write anymore

Or maybe my creativity never was

Leaving behind all the projects

Pending on my computer

Novel third draft only just started

Short story fourth draft halfway finished

And least of all

This poem

Is not…

Wondering Thoughts

Wondering Thoughts

By: James Dubeau

There are those moves

Which one does make

Late at night

With a belly full of booze

When the internal editor

Is fast asleep at the switch

He could have said

Those choices would result

In nothing but sadness

And changed the course

But he cannot tonight

Not while his snores

Echo though the skull

Reverberating

That dull ache

Just before hangover

So one just sits

Lamenting

Recent decisions

As well as those

From years gone past

Thoughts and memories

Float on past

Tears well from the corners

To be brushed away

And forgotten

Seconds turn to minutes

Minutes turn to hours

Hours turn to days

Days turn to years

Slowly fading away

To be background noise

But there are those times

It all comes flooding back

Making it all fresh again

Like a knife upon the flesh

When all that remained

Was a memory

Or an idea

Of a memory

Which never was

And never will be

Again

Haggard Paladin

Haggard Paladin

By: James Dubeau

Once upon a time

My sword shined in the sun

Strong and sharp

I stood

Waiting for the dragon

To crest the hill

Ready to be slain

But now I sit

Haggard and old

Rust flaked from my sword

The edge could not cut grass

As the dragon flies

High overhead

Breathing down fire and death

Upon all I hold dear 

There is nothing that I can do

But wait

And hope

For an opening

To slay the beast

But it will never come

Before the time

Left in my soul

Melts away

Farmer Driven

Farmer Driven

By: James Dubeau

Big green John Deere

Rolling along

The country side

Traveling paved roads

Slowing traffic behind

A line of cars

Afraid to pass

On rolling hills

Just outside of town

There was once a time

Where this scene did not happen

Before the advent of blacktop

And combustion engines

Fields were not cut up

Divvied up

By what the taxman wished

When the fields were worked

By plow pulled by horse

Or mule

Or oxen

We are all victims of his success

A nation grown fat

Bloated

On bounty filled bread baskets

Us in our automobiles

Pissed off

Him in an air conditioned king cab

Hoping seed prices

Don’t send him under

Dark Past

Dark Past

By: James Dubeau

Why does the dark past

Invoke such nightmares

Upon the soul

And set the mind

Tumbling

Through time and space

Not letting rest

Reach weary eyes

When the night runs long

Mental guards drop

Letting murky ooze

Seep though

Poisoning the mind

Sending it in spirals

Bringing back

Every detail

Every smile

Every laugh

Every thought

Every emotion

Of those days

Long ago

Tearing tenuously healed wounds

Open and raw

Fresh searing pain

Which can only be cured

With more time

Whiskey

And sleep