Storm / There Are Wonderful Nights by John Tustin

Storm

Is it odd
That the noises of heavy rain in the night
Comfort me and help me sleep?
Is it odder still
That their tinkling and rasping
Comes to my ears like murmured prayers?
Like a whispering choir
They repeat themselves
As a mantra:
“We have fallen from God’s grace
And He has cast us down to earth
But we are happy to be farther
From his anger and relentlessness.
Now the anger and relentlessness
Is his residue but is our own.”
They say this over and over,
Insinuating their drops into my dreams
Where I greet them without remembering
By the near morning time when
The rain relents,
The sounds vaporize in the purple less-than-darkness,
Taking my memories and even my shadow with them
When they go as I awaken.

This poem is a puddle –
It reminds me that something happened.




There Are Wonderful Nights

There are nights, wonderful nights
When something, anything
Appears on your horizon like the shore
To the traveler on a boat made of popsicle sticks
With tissue paper sails.
The kind of night when one discovers a song
Or a poem
Or better yet a songwriter, singer or poet
Who jumps your pulse and shatters
All expectations.

You sit alone at night before your day off
And you drink and listen to music and read poetry,
Hoping for that moment where the sun parts the clouds:
For only a moment
And you see something
Or at least believe you see something.
You type a series of poems
While eating fistfuls of almonds
Waiting for such a night.
This is the other kind of night.

John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.

The Rooftop by John Tustin

I summon you from the rooftop
of my post-midnight desires
but you never come down
from your hiding place
behind the moon,
never show yourself

and then I descend the many steps
back to the humid perspiration
of my bedroom,
open the book of my life so far,
place a bookmark of tears,
close the book.

I will climb to the rooftop
again,
when the same desires arrive
but you do not
and the book of my life
waits to be re-opened
at the bottom of those stairs,

so many steps away
from the back of the moon.

John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.

Love is a Graveyard by John Tustin

love is a graveyard

at the bottom of the ocean
reserved for ships
that search the ocean
for the good things
not found at any known port -
just old Captain's-tales
no different than stories
of mermaids, buried treasure on an uncharted island
just begging to be dug up
and especially the tale of
The One That Got Away

John Tustin's poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.

The Wind Cracks the Windows by John Tustin

The wind cracks the windows Hisses through the crevices Pounds on the doors I surround myself with pillows Cover myself with sheets With billowing blankets Feel my leg cool On my other leg My feet unable to thaw This wind is just too pervasive This room is just too cold To be alone tonight

John Tustin's poetry is forthcoming in Datura, The Alembic, Poetry Salzburg and others. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.