Poem… the old, the new

A new poem I wrote a couple of days ago…


the old, the new

–april 7, 2019–
springfield, ohio

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

seconds turn to minutes, then hours
without rest, all clocks inevitably run.
days fade to months because time is never ours,
and it’s far from fun
when sand spills through life’s hourglass.

new books read like those i’ve read before
new pages die in winter much like summer’s grass.
new songs sound like those already heard
their demise takes on the flight of a flustered bird
in hope that old turns new once more.

is it this?
is this it?
might it be that?
might that be it?

delightful is day’s end
when lights must flicker out,
consciousness grows dark,
souls give up their sparks,
vitality bends,
and those who love must do without.

it’s true…
the moment comes for all, for me, and you,
when what was unpredictable is predictable,
what once surprised becomes expected,
what could be everlasting turns perishable,
and the only cure for this untimely state lamented
is a timely final breath accepted.


the old, the new will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–


 

Poem: The Book of Spells | Page One

The Book of Spells is a short series composed of six poems, or six Pages.

The series’ themes are love, magic and dark arts.


Poem: The Book of Spells

Selected Verses:

Page One

Burn the books of old.
Let flames consume their souls.
Turn this ancient page toward Hell:
“Page Two” in the Book of Spells.


Find the poem @…

Poem: The Book of Spells | Page One

NoteThe Book of Spells is a short series composed of six poems, or six Pages. The series’ themes are magic and dark arts.

Poem: The Book of Spells

Selected Verses:

Page One

Burn the books of old.
Let flames consume their souls.
Turn this ancient page toward Hell:
“Page Two” in the Book of Spells.

Find the poem @…

Poem: Grandfather

Poem: Grandfather

Selected Verses:

The old black man downed a shot of Don Q.
The light-skinned grandson entered the bar.

~ ~ ~

The old black man downed a shot of Bacardí.
“Hail Mary, mother of God, full of grace!”

~ ~ ~

The grandfather kissed his grandson’s cheek
and grazed him with a beard of age and sandpaper.
God bless Don Q and Bacardí rums.

Find the poem @…