April Poetry | Steve Henigson

D.A.C.: In Memoriam

by Steve Henigson

We were together joined
So early in that spring,
And we sought out our half:
A quiet place beside
A shady courtyard, there
Slate-paved, with gingko trees.
But when the leaves all fell
She went her separate way,
And I went mine.

Then two years further on,
As if by miracle,
She sought out me, and we
Were for a moment joined:
Much more than friends, and yet
A little less than love.
And in a little while
She went her separate way,
And I went mine

And 60 years sped by.
In curiosity
I sought out the old place
And found our half long gone.
And on the merest whim
I sought out her, but learned
I was just days too late:
She had forever gone
Her separate way.

A Poet Dies A’Borning
or why I write doggerel

by Steve Henigson

I could write about wet spring,
But Cummings did it better.
I could write about hot love,
But Marvell did it better.
I could write about cold death,
But Whitman did it better.

I could write a sonnet: fine,
But William did it better.
I could write a funny line,
But Ogden did it better.
I could write about our time,
But Dylan did it better.

I would be a poet prince,
But I’ve been beaten to it.
Nothing’s left for me to write
Except, perhaps, “Ah, screw it!”

A Problem

by Steve Henigson

I had a didgeridoo, but it didn’t.
It was made out of wood, but it wouldn’t.
So I travelled to Oz
Just to find out the cause,
And was told it was cold, so it couldn’t.