This Means Something

At the moment I couldn't tell you what,

but this image came to me last night.

It woke me up.  The more I thought about it,

the more urgent my desire to get up and

create it.

So I did

and I still don't know what it means. 

Window Pain

for which there's no cure.

It's Legal Now

Maybe not this much.

It was still fun

She would run and hide

I would count to 20 out loud

Then I would search for her

She wasn't hard to find.

I could always hear her giggling

False Reading

Quiet Remains

Where she is now the cable is free

they haven’t a language

there’s no spelling bee,

Where she is now

there’s a great Trader Joe’s

nothing is packaged

cuz its right where it grows,

Her neighborhood’s charming

not a pothole in sight

no need for a nurse

she can sleep thru the night

No gossip, no tabloids

no six o-clock news

she can sing all day long

but never the blues

She’s back with her friends

who were never that far

from the quiet remains

back here in the jar.

Suggested Reading

Amazon search:  Under the Frosting

                                                (Paperback)

also

The Adventures of Wendy Crow

(Paperback)  For Children

Something to Crow About

(eBook) For Children

&

Winter Corn

(eBook) For Children

Wise & Otherwise
   (Paperback)



and

The Pantry

A collection of GREAT short stories.





Dear Hollywood,
I have read Under the Frosting,
and I believe it would make a great movie.



I'm just saying...

STOP - STOP

That's the wrong key.

Words Left Over from Other Poems

The Raven and the Waterfall

the Willow and the stone

were born upon the quiet earth

each somewhere else alone,

The crystal lake and spotted fawn

the snow-caps in the sky

the mustache here upon my face

the twinkle in my eye

are all the reasons I don't know

and cannot reason why,

But when the night is quiet

and the poets set their traps

they separate the syrup,
from the sticky maple sap

so never more to whisper

and this to never fear

be sure that we are somewhere else

whenever we're not here.

zc

but not proud of it.

Where Sunshine Hits the Tulips

I wonder if you've ever looked

upon an open field

and cast a weary traveler's eye

as I have?

Did you ever take the time to think

of what it is you'd see

before the earth and mountains blend

and sky have?

Where sunshine hits the tulips

a fragile web is spun

a ladybug is tangled

and one more life is done,

It never makes the paper

but upon his merry way

a plump and happy spider

thanks God for such a day.

zc

The Itch

Many poems

are often writ

about the itch

and scratch of it -

I proclaim

the worst itch put

is on the bottom

of a foot -

A foot surrounded

by a sock

within a shoe

and twisted knot -

attached to leg

the furthest south

with dentist fingers

in your mouth.

zc

On Flying in Planes

Not a thought or a care

as to how the thing travels

and never a worry

that it all might unravel

Not even a twinge

when the altitude changes

or the pop in my right ear

and left ear exchanges

No it's not a concern

when the stewardess prays

and the clouds in the sky

fall up and away

My only dismay

and I say with no grin

I've not seen all the places

my luggage has been.

zc

On a Trip to the Zoo

Keep a quiet respect

for the ones that were caught

be they feathered or furry

big ones or naught

Don't lean past the rail

but stand a-ways back

and don't wear a coat

that's been made from a yak

Don't make a face

at one bigger than yours

and never wake-up

the ones with the snores

Don't wiggle your fingers

at bears from the south

and when passing the monkeys

breathe through your mouth.

zc

My Front Yard

I sprinkled seed

and watered well

the sun came up

it burned to hell,

The summer next

again I tried

and every stink’in seed

just died,

With two years past

my yard of dust

formed a very hearty

crust –

With pick and ax

out there I trod

and rolled out

luscious

pads of sod,

And then some strange

and rare disease

took every blade of grass

with ease,

So when this yard

of dirt you pass

speak kind of what you see,

for just beneath

this soil mass

my wife

has planted me.

zc

Telephone Bumps

The Chamberlain Bridge

I saw a man

living under the bridge

with a pot and a pan

I saw a man

living under the Chamberlain Bridge,

I knew as I passed

that this just couldn't last

how silly to stand

with one pot and one pan

why he hadn't a stove or a fridge,

On the way coming home

he simply was there

without any chair - in his room built of air

under the Chamberlain Bridge,

I said to my wife

this isn't the life

why what could he cook

in his low-ceiling nook

that had but one wall - with a plaque that recalled

who built the Chamberlain Bridge,

Now a man though of means

how he'd open his beans

I haven't a clue - just what he would do

yet each night he retires

to the roaring of tires

a honk and a screech

why it isn't the beach

there under the Chamberlain Bridge,

For days I did ponder

how someone could wonder

then choose not to roam

but just build a home

with no switch for a light

no kitch for a bite

no faucet that drips

or bathtub that slips

no phone ringing calls

no art on the walls

no alarms for the smoke

in hopes you don't choke

no clock in the morn'en

to stop you from snore'n

oh dare it be true

could there be room for two

under the Chamberlain Bridge?

Z. Corwin

Ding-Dong

I heard the doorbell when I died -

expecting none - not even you,

I didn't rise - I didn't try,

though part of me sure wanted to.

zc

Gooselong Dead

I slug and fluff

beneath my head

the mound of down

from gooselong dead,

The lumps of bumps

brought to my face

stitched into this -

my pillow case,

Atop where dream-time

thoughts get said

and flight returns

to gooselong dead.

Z. Corwin

Charged with Murder

The wooden floorboards of the bookstore creaked and moaned as customers rushed in to get out of the storm.  Umbrellas and raincoats dripped from the wall-hooks in the entryway.  Kate was wishing this was one of those big, modern bookstores that served coffee and had a glass counter full of pastries, but it wasn’t.  

This was simply Hamilton’s; reliable, almost always open and not part of a big, impersonal chain.  At times it may have smelled a tad musty, but that was part of its charm.  It wore no fancy dust jacket; it just sat nestled with the buildings on Main Street.  To the left was Gregory’s Deli and to the right sat Iguanas & More, Pet Shop, as if being alphabetical was a requirement.

The brass bell above the door tinkled with the entrance and exits of every customer, which was always ignored by Simon, the store owner’s cat.  He slept comfortably in the front window, except when his lunch arrived.  Out of a sound sleep he would jump to his feet and head behind the front counter, where his food dish lived.  After lunch, of course, it would be time for a nap, so back to the window he’d go.

As Kate entered the book store she accidentally bumped into Peg, who was shaking the rain from her coat.

“I’m so very sorry” Kate said.  “I should look in the direction I’m walking.”

“No problem, replied Peg.  I should stand farther away from the front door, but this thing will never dry if I don’t give it a good shake.”

“Here, let me help you.  There’s an empty hook over here.” Kate takes Peg’s coat and hangs it up with her own.

“Thank you…?”

“It’s Kate.  My name is Kate.”

“Mine is Peg.  I’m a murderer.   I should say, I write murder mysteries.  I just came in to check the shelf.  I check once a month to see how many of my books have sold.”

“You’re the first author I’ve ever met.  It’s nice to meet you.”

Peg pulls a Kleenex from her pocket and sniffles into it.  “What do you do, Kate?”

“I’m a teacher.  On Mondays I teach 5^th grade math.  On Tuesdays and Wednesdays it’s English and on Fridays I teach gourmet cooking at the Adult Education Center.”

“Sounds like you keep busy.”

“I do.” Kate replied. “I certainly do.”

“How many books have you written?” Kate asked.

“Excuse me just a minute Peg.  I just need to sit here a second.” And she eased herself down onto the wooden chair at the end of the aisle.

“Are you OK?” 

“Just a little tired.  It has been a busy week.”

“Do you want me to see if I can get you a glass of water?”

“No – thank you.  I’ll be fine in a minute”

As Peg started to stand up, Kate reached down and helped her keep her balance.

As the two women walk further into the store there is a loud clap of thunder, and suddenly the book store is completely dark.  Dennis, the young kid running the cash register yells for everyone to be calm and ads - hopefully the emergency lights will come on.  They didn’t.

One lady, towards the back of the store turned on a small flashlight she’d dug out of her purse.  It wasn’t much light but it was something.

  Once again Dennis, at the register, announces he cannot ring up any orders without power and requests everyone is patient.

Kate feels Peg taking hold of her arm and she pulls her in closer.

“Are you scared Peg?” Kate asks.

“I have a problem” she whispers.  “I didn’t think there would be a power outage.  I need to get home right away.”

Kate leans in and asks what the problem is.

“I can’t tell you, and now I’m worried.  Will you come with me?”

Kate hears the panic in Peg’s voice and says, “No problem, but don’t you want to wait until the rain stops?”

“I can’t.  I have to check on something right away.  Oh dear.”

With just a few steps back the two women are again in the entryway.  Kate feels around for the last wall hook and grabs their coats.

“Here’s your coat.” Peg feels it up against her arm and takes it from Kate.  It is still wet but she slips it on and waits for Kate to get hers back on.

Once outside the two walk close to the storefronts, keeping under the various awnings as they go.

“Where do you live Peg?  Are we headed to your car or are we within walking distance?”

Just then Peg chirps her key fob and the headlights come on just two parked cars away.

“We’ll drive, Honey.  This is my car here.”

Now Kate was wondering why Peg needed her to go with her if her car was right here.  She found it to be a little odd and just a bit unsettling, but she got into the passenger seat and snugly clicked her seat-belt.

As Peg drove through a darkened neighborhood Kate asked again, “What is it you’re concerned about?”

“It’s the power outage.  This isn’t at all good.”

Kate still didn’t understand but figured she would just wait and see.

Peg pulled into a narrow driveway.  There were tall hedges along one side and an old bungalow style house to the right.

“This is my place.”  Just as she turned off the car ignition they could see the streetlights and several house lights come back on.

“Thank Heaven.” Peg sighed.  “Come in.  You can help me check the house and then we can have some tea.”

“What are we checking the house for?  Do you have pets?”

“Oh no, dear, no pets.  Come-on – we’ll have a cup of hot tea, and I’ll show you my latest book.”

Kate followed Peg up the driveway to the side door.  She finally found her house key but Kate noticed Peg’s hands shaking.

“Are you nervous?”

Peg didn’t answer.  She unlocked the door and opened it slowly.  As she stepped inside Kate followed close behind.

Peg went up two short steps to the kitchen and clicked on the ceiling light.  She glanced back over her shoulder at Kate and said,

“Everything looks fine, come on up.”

As Kate looked around the kitchen she noticed a teakettle on the stove and a few dishes piled in the sink.

“You have a nice house.”  Kate said, although thinking it could stand a good cleaning.

“Have a seat at the table, Kate, and I’ll get the kettle fired up.”

The kitchen table was a little cluttered but Kate just pushed things out of the way, making room for the two of them to have tea.

“While the water is heating up I’ll fetch my book.” Peg said, disappearing down a hallway.  As Kate sat there she noticed something.  She was surprised she had not noticed it right when she walked in.  There was a heavy-duty extension cord plugged into a wall outlet.  The cord stretched across the floor and the other end had bare wires attached to the doorknob of a door across the room, with one wire going to one of the hinges of the door.

The moment Peg returned with her latest book, Kate asked about the electrical cord.

“Yes, that’s why we had to get back here.  If he had noticed the power was out he could have escaped.”

Peg couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Are you telling me you have someone trapped in your basement?”

“Yes dear.  It’s Nelson, my husband.”

Kate didn’t know what to say.  Was this lady nuts?  And why on Earth did I get into her car?

Peg set her book on the table in front of Kate.  As Kate looked at the dust jacket, nothing registered.  Her mind was still bouncing a million questions around.  What had she gotten herself into?

“Do you like the cover?”  Peg’s question broke the silence and snapped Kate back into the moment.

“I’m looking at what seems to be a circle of firemen holding a large canvas ring, like someone is about to jump from the building here in the foreground.”

“Yes, but something’s off, isn’t it?”

Kate kept looking at the picture and then realized, none of the firemen were looking up at the jumper.  They all had their heads bowed.  They were all looking down.

“Why is no one looking up?” asked Kate.

“Precisely,” replied Peg, as she took the hot kettle from the stove and poured Kate’s tea.

Kate didn’t care about Peg’s book.  She couldn’t stop thinking about the poor man in the basement.

“I need to use your restroom.”  Kate said cautiously.

Peg pointed.  “Just down the hall dear.”

Kate slid her chair back from the table and headed for the hall. About halfway down the hall she noticed a clothes chute.  Kate pulled the chute open and stuck her head in enough to see into the basement.

  

She could see a single light bulb hanging from a cord.  Just below that she saw what she thought was a bald man squinting back up at her.  In a low and somewhat raspy voice he said,

“Don’t drink the tea.”

           

           

           

      Z. Corwin