Poems

by David S. Pointer






Jocko's

store window
woke up
exploding. . .
Once a war
bride receiving
an unexpected
death letter
let a peach
blown water
pitcher fall
That's how I
shattered when
mom made me
aware of Jocko's
moontime murder
and coin register
robbery


Banjo Dan

He cut his first 30-bracket
aluminum rim right out of a
hubcap found in a milofield
off Missouri Hwy 13.
Just hybrid homework for
a banjo playing boy destined
Uncle Dave Macon Days
in Murfreesboro, Tennessee
where clawhammer hooks
& modern creativity creep
around each sacred mountain
of melodic frost, as mythical
bootleggers get their
jangling comeuppance or
hard lot fair pay for
exquisite cornliquor.
No musical matter, some
more depression era mug
shot men may escape a
straight razor romp through
custom shop strings only to
be gunned up good two
fast frets down on this
hazardous homemade
narrow stretch of maple
neck needed in the next
town now like the tenant
farmer wearily walking to
an obsolete oil field near
Sequoyah County,
Oklahoma in the next song's
smoldering breeze.


Indian Jim Thorpe

Quarterbacks, coaches and jocks
sports writers, referees, and people
who block all talk about Indian
Jim Thorpe who could hop, run
stumble, or walk to drop kick
a football from the 50 yard line,
over the muddy gridiron grime
over the goal posts of all time
and even become a cool sports rhyme






David S. Pointer was born and reared in kansas City and Clinton, Missouri. He earned a master's degree in sociology from Central Missouri State University. He is the author of two chapbooks of poetry, Wheelchair Dancer (Time Barn Books) and Sign Language (Indian Heritage Publishing). The poem "Jocko's" was displayed in Mauch Chunk Museum in Jim Thorpe, PA.

Copyright © 2006. Do not reproduce without permission.


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