Liberian Literary Magazine
Promoting Liberian Literature , Arts and Culture
’ Twas Brillig
Richard Wilson Moss
Upon Puberty
Young in the pew The oak seat so hard it burns Like hot spice , I fasten together Paper clips secretly stolen From a teacher ’ s desk With them I daydream of hanging The black suited man up front Who goes on and on About deliverance , forgiveness of a god I would test with this noose . Far from there I hear the noon train And wish to climb on , travel forever Jump out at times into pouring rain Sit in cool puddles and drown ants Slave to no reason of destination Like the dancer to the dance .
Potter ' s Fields
Those gunned down watching movies At parties laughing , in class drowsy Then buried in unremarkable places Those murdered by stones Their ashes still fresh in their fires Those dismembered by drones Their pieces and parts assorted and labeled With different colors of paint Then routinely planted in caskets or vases The three year olds left in the ditch Or half buried in the sand If not on the floor of the sea After struggling in the waves The drunk killing himself on the road Taking the teen , the mother , the worker The rapper , the shithead , the addict , the saint To common burial grounds All these are my graves .
So I waited until arrival at the next station To get off but it kept going Past countless farms and forests and mountains Their lakes and rivers and streams Past towns and cities , their people , their pain Their joys , their hardships ,
their dreams And after a while they were no more Than passing shadows in the rain . copyright 2005 Richard Wilson Moss
Richard Moss is the author of numerous full length poetry books . You can find his books on every major platform .
Kents
I reach into the fold of living Like my cancer-ridden weeping grandfather Reached for his Kents In ward pajamas With no pockets .
Train
Catching the train I found no one inside I realized it was not my train And didn ' t know where it was going
© Richard Moss
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