Happy House Productions
Neal's Poems
Karen Keltz and Neal Lemery
Dedicated to the promotion of the written word, music, and art
Here are a few of Neal's poems of late
Neal and Karen
Long Weekend, Big City
1.
The cashier of the art store
Is as excited about my new ink,
My charcoal, and fat pad of paper
As I am.
I can’t wait to go play
And he knows what I am feeling
As I nearly skip out the store.
2.
In the quiet of the coffee shop
Only the squeak of the charcoal
On the paper
Accompanies the drawing of the man
Striding down the sidewalk
After the sun sets
And the fall evening chill
Sets in.
3.
Waiting for others at the restaurant
I already feel the energies
Of family and friends gathering –
Conversation more important than
Food.
Tonight, music
Tomorrow, music and books
And a bit of wine
With song.
4.
Jon would have laughed
When his granddaughter smiled
At the people at the next table
Singing Happy Birthday.
5.
Alone in our thoughts, as the barista
prepares our caffeine, we only
looked at each other when the one
undelivered mocha
grew cold.
6.
This room is
too tall--
the walls close in--
stifling my hunger
to draw
space.
7.
Dark street
filled with happy people
on their way to
adventure.
8.
Two musicians
flying guitar sounds warm the cozy
café warmed by table candles and song—
she lost in reverie of her song for her lost love—
he so filled with music he dances on one leg
without knowing it.
9.
(On listening to Patrick McManus speak on his writing)
The old man told worn stories
of martinis and his old successes
but not about his art and
his journey of creativity.
He told old jokes and bragged about
not following his notes or talking about
his new book.
It showed, as we began to doze in our
chairs.
He rambled on without us.
10.
Mr. Ego English professor speaks
every sentence with I
filling the room with
self aggrandizement.
The handout his resume
his webpage primitive --
he, missing the irony of the workshop topic
on publishing on the Web
and engaging the world
rather than engaging
himself.
Professor Ego Centric
clueless to our boredom
and the failures in the hour.
11.
Yesterday,
The language of music
Today,
Words
Both images,
Both the lingua franca.
12.
The young multi media practitioners
sparkle with enthusiasm
as they plow new ground
bringing writing to new levels
their energy
Sizzles in the air.
13.
Touch
the words of a poem
the color of a photo
the design
of the painting, the poem
even the music of them all.
The artist, picking up the brush
the camera, the pen,
Starts not with emptiness
but with near completion.
The work, already nearly done,
just needs this additional time
to finish the design
and end the sentence.
Needing one last thought, one last
word
picture.
A Moment In Time
Hope came in on the sound of the kiss,
the new bride and groom, feet covered in sand
and the cold waves of the August beach, said “I do”
and began a new life, together.
He, and yesterday’s groom, now his brother in law,
Both now ready to ship off to the Army next week,
Baghdad a likely destination, eager to get on with life,
eager to bring their brides along in their adventures.
New rings on entwined fingers, they squeal with delight,
twirling feet in the wet sand, their love shown to the world,
as the setting sun turns the sand into gold, and the surf into silver.
This August day, with love eternal present,
filled with passion, excitement –
the future laid out smooth as the sand at their feet,
washed clean by the tide.
The new Army wife, when asked where they will live, happily replied
“I don’t know, but we will be together.”
confidence, enthusiasm, optimism – all radiating from her heart,
as she hugged her soldier again.
Today, limitless hope, optimism in this time of war.
Today, I heard the President speak of his hope about the war, and
all I think is
War Hope oxymoronic --
for in this war, as in all wars, there seems no real hope,
only the promises of old men, safe at home, deciding what young men
will have to fight, and, perhaps die, in a far away land
as it always seems to have been.
Yet today, I am surrounded by hope, and the perils and insanity of war
are blissfully ignored, at least for this precious moment --
This late summer sweetness lingers in my heart, and I am stilled --
in the midst of family and friends, the young lovers gaze into the sea
and whisper words of endearment and love, each afire in the moment.
Hope is alive today, at this wedding altar in the sand,
next to the roar of the surf and the promise of tomorrow,
in the setting of the sun and the flight of the gulls,
and the kiss of the lovers in the sand.
--Neal Lemery 8/07
Johnny Cash and Me, Together
Johnny and I sang together, in perfect pitch
our harmonies blending, and filling the room with our songs
of life and heaven and being with the Lord.
Song after song, Johnny and me, each one getting better,
each one improved with my voice, adding another line of melody onto his.
Oh, he played the guitar and he sang so clear, and my excuse
was that I left my guitar in the house, and I just stopped by
to lift my weights and ride my exercise bike,
and to ponder my new painting, and perhaps
decide what brush and what tube of paint comes next.
I happened to put Johnny into the stereo, and crank up the volume
simply to pass the time while I peddled the bike, and look at my canvas.
But Johnny, he’s so cool, he asked me to sing along
and I couldn’t say no, especially when it seemed
my voice blended so well with his as we did the whole album.
Next time, I’ll bring my guitar, and I may even steal the solo,
at least once, and give him a run for his money. Oh, he’s good,
but with me joining in, it sounded even better.
I knew he was happy, how it all turned out,
it was, after all, a good session, and I was a good partner,
never once louder than him, and my bass line was just right.
We’re partners now, and sounding pretty good.
I can’t wait to teach him some tricks of my own.
---Neal Lemery 1/25/07