Clinton Van Inman: Two Poems
It was no accident my coming here
For they must had known long before
I wandered to their farmhouse near
That soon I’d knock upon their door
During this darkest season of the year.
Call it more than a good neighbor’s sense
In snow to leave a porch lamp lighted
Or post the sign upon the picket fence
For those in need are all invited
Even if I thought it mere coincidence.
THE LAST OLYMPIAN
Across wet glass we rub our noses
And paint a picture that presupposes
Like confused footsteps that reach
Across some worn and weathered beach.
Words that fix you, words that find you,
Words that bind you, words that blind you,
Words that lead you to a trance
Or spin you round some sacred dance.
Your fingers cannot perturb
The pliant petals of a rosebud
Within the jar the question lingers,
While you count with broken fingers.
A mermaid sings in a distant sea.
Like the stars she cannot be seen directly,
Etched in moon glow beyond all proof
Like some last Olympian, proud, aloof.
Copyright © Clinton Van Inman 2013
I was born in Walton-on-Thames, England in 1945, graduated from San
Diego State University in 1977, and a high school teacher in Tampa Bay. I
live in Sun City Center, Florida with my wife, Elba.