Tom Stock

Poet, Essayist, Photographer, Naturalist

Category: Poetry (Page 2 of 9)

Duct Tape – The Poem

Sticks.
Sticks where I want it
And sticks where I don’t want it
Sticks to my fingers
Resists unsticking
Jumps from finger to finger
“Annoying.” I say
“Stop complaining. “She says
It refuses to leave
I shake it
I pull
I grab
Sticks
Like a friend
Who doesn’t stop talking
Or a fly around a lamp shade
Guaranteed to hold and stay
It’s what duck tape is for
Sticks
Like a mosquito that buzzes your ear
A guest who overstays their welcome

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Who Are These Savages?

They sat in a circle, cross legged
Drumming, rattling, singing,
It is a circle of medicine, family
Our clan and all our relations:
The winged, four legged, many legged,
The finned, grandfather rocks,
The leafy beings, and the Mother

A blazing fire and glowing faces
Womp womp womp da da womp
Boom da da boom da da boom
Children, women, men
The pipe, the smoke

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Pick Tomatoes – The How Tos

(Dedicated to Max Wheat who offered critique)

Cruise around the tomato beds
To look for red roundness among green foliage
Stoop and fondle a candidate
Squeeze to feel a little give
Give it a gentle twist
It should break off easily
Look for more by spreading vines gently
Gently place the tomato in the best basket you own

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Do The Math

For thousands of years
We were innocent – human activity was small
Now it’s our fault
We are choking the planet
Most of us are good people
BUT…just by our existence,
We are not good for the planet
There’s too many of us

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FEAR OF SUDDENLY

I don’t like sudden
It’s too sudden
Like a champagne bottle cork about to pop
I know it will happen, but I jump anyway

I want things slow
No surprises
Show me a world
Where there are ample warnings
Where slow changes are slow

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Eclipse – Poem and Essay: August 21, 2017

Within the path of totality
So brief, but spectacular
Not so much in our side yard
A pinhole viewer
I call it my “eclipse-o-meter”

I held the device
Pointed to the sun/moon eclipse
A tiny image, the size of a period
A smiley-face Sun
The moon bite
No telescope, no trip
No glasses
To totality lane

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Facebook Rant – the poem

Facebook is not for me
I let myself get sucked in
Commenting with stupid stuff
And this takes away
From my longing to be engaged
With the natural world
To have my hands in soil
Planting things
Watching things grow
Hearing the wind and rain
How can Facebook complete
with a real tree?

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This Morning

Time to put on pants
And start the morning
Get things done
Anything is possible

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Glint

Conditions have to be perfect
For the eye to catch a speck of light
A reflection so perfect,
The angles just so
For sunlight to bounce through a pupil

A car windshield, three miles away
Crossing the Captree Causeway Bridge
Catches a ray, transmits it to my eye
A silver shard of sun
That instantly dissolves

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In The Herb Garden

Lots happening in mid-July

Perfect timing for insects and herbs

It’s as if they were waiting for this moment

Heat, growth, water, all converge

Who is attracting whom?

Cabbage butterflies congregate in lavender

One thinks food, the other continuity

This frenzy at midday

Essential oil aerosols and manic wasps

On bee balm flower heads

Flies, bees, beetles

It’s a carnival, a feast

A homecoming medicine cabinet

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