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Poems by Shaun


F9 Chord, Diminished Scale

I was waiting for him,
fiddling around on my guitar,
impatient to show
how I'd perfected
his favorite song.

The portable creaked
an accompanying B flat,
yielding to years
of teenage abuse.
A window was shattered
from playing baseball with
music stands and sprite bottles.
The door wasn't really locked;
you could just pull hard
and the lock would give,
bending like the E string
I flailed on the 9th fret.

We'd last conversed
the previous day
over his Chevy Blazer,
the worn engine
proclaiming in loud spurts
and one final crash
it wasn't alive today.

I strummed an F chord,
improvising blues licks
and slamming familiar tones
into the whammy bar.
Just then, a friend
ripped through the lock.
My guitar dropped to the floor
as a diminished chord
silenced the music.



Aloe Vera

The plant hung from
a sun-dried stucco roof,
bangs dangling over
a stained metal table.
Plates ornamented
by refried beans
clogged a sink.

Outside, examining ants
swarming frenetically
over rusted sheet metal
laid a little girl
with fresh beams
full in whiteness,
kind of like the PVC pipe lying
beside a chain-link fence.
Her arms were tanned,
dust-colored and cracked
with her ribcage
pushing against the shirt.

The screen door screamed
as dinner was announced.
Barefoot, she glided
past bent nails
and shattered beer bottles
toward that plant,
half-dried above canned food.



Deplanked

We stood somewhat aghast
at wooden cylinder poles
jutting in toward
oatmeal tin cups
intruding fresh-cut planks.

Boredom had been solved
by some local quantities of rope
and chopped adolescent trees.

Writhing winds ran across
stained cardboard decks
leaving a nest of cords in wake;
meager pennants topped
a slender pole protruding
its way into eyesight.

We boarded our pride
and thrashed about
until we'd passed
weeded waters.
Unfortunately, middle rods
had not been set right;
the vessel crumpled
like a paper napkin
in water's gnarled hands
leaving us marooned,
kind of like a paddle
without a boat.



Dulcet

She left a thank you
to the taxi driver
and strolled into the store.
A man at the counter
smiled politely
as the tasteful ring
of the door's bell
sugared the air.

Sweet castle shelves
towered over aisles
of unswept tile.
Candy cane barber poles
reminded her of a new
brunette fashion.

Gazing at delicacies
as if 401k plans,
she found an appealing smell.
A voluptuous scent
of chocolate cherries
slid through the air
like a new brew of coffee
on a Sunday morning.

With a drop on the counter
and green candy of its own
exchanged between hands,
she left with a devilish smile,
somewhat like the cake
lying on the windowsill.



A Tuesday at the Café

He leaned back
in a wooden support
with four peg legs,
rocking slowly back
and forth.

He nibbled rounded bread
as glazed delicacy dripped
down a blue and white
plaid shirt, eyeing
the girl across the table.

With sugar-coated fingers
she shoved the receipt
into her purse,
reaching a gold-ringed
hand at his face.
He grinned as
white drips slipped
into her palm.

He winced as she blew
into a wrapped straw
at his nose,
its shadow skirting over
checkerboard cloth.

He laughed and leaned
against the chair again.
With an implosion
of legs he found himself
rubbing his backside amid
splinters and napkins
strewn across tile.

She giggled and
devilishly slurped
into iced tea.



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Biographical sketch: High school student who writes to become better, and plays many musical instruments including his love for guitars.

Shaun recommends:

An Introduction to Poetry by X. J. Kennedy
Reason: Great imagery examples, clear-cut definitions, and an outstanding teaching setup.

Recommendations for writers:

Think of some experience, real or fiction, and describe it. Do it in a way never seen before. Make the reader remember. But most importantly, if it means nothing to you, it will mean nothing to the reader.


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