2 poems by Robert McManes

Trumpet

one day
the trumpet sounds
it plays a sad tune
but now those fingers
play nothing
not a sound
and the silence
falls unnoticed
like leaves
on an autumn day
and you realize
how quick
the notes
and your mind
begin to fade
The Old Soul House
the old house
complete with an olden soul
antique plaster and lath
stained wooden floors
worn traffic patterns
frequented places
cracks and dings
stories told and retold
songs sung old
i imagine then
wonder what might
have been
but now i see the remains
bones laid bare
this place was something
someone’s ancestral home
the twinkle of yesteryear’s stars
but reality is today
and the hole is too deep
my shovel is too short
to fill this house grown old
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Published by

Jeremiah Walton

Oi ! I’m Jeremiah Walton. For the past ~3 years I’ve been bopping around the U.S. between hitchhiking + rubber tramping, running traveling bookstore Books & Shovels + indie publisher Nostrovia! Press. My focus is in-person distribution at open mics + features + busking. Word of mouth is a fulfilling & feels to be a more intimate promotional process. I’ve featured at the NYC Poetry Festival + San Francisco Lit Crawl + Snoetry Cleveland + Beast Crawl Oakland + This Lil Lit Fest + street corners across the country. There’s a handful of my books floating around the country, but most recently is “From Here Til Utopia” (Ghost City Press). Raccoons + coyotes are my companions. Hope you dig the poems, much love, thank you❤

2 thoughts on “2 poems by Robert McManes”

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