Poetry by Richard Kovac

For Thine Is The Television

Minister leaving television set on:

the irrelevant sitcom
with its raucous laughter
tells me, "I am not,"
as I drift thru tonight.
A world is in anguish
amidst this acid tinkle
of canned laughter,
with louder commercials.
"Woe to those who laugh now,"
drifts into my mind
from another consciousness,
and I shudder in my sleep.
tomorrow's sermon is completed
waiting to be memorized,
which I will do, with
the television still on,
when I awake.
In TV we live and move
and have our "being".
Cable means "Allelulia".

Dark Glasses
Vision is good
knocking down
blind men.
(John 9: 40, 41)
the blind man says,
"Excuse me..."

Loveliness Adrift
except when
she wore glasses
she could have been
an artist's model.
or cryptic
as she was,
she closed
her letter
with, "it's funny
how life makes
our decisions
for us."
I puzzled on this
bit of metaphysics
of her loveliness,
and concluded
that we were adrift.
that's what
the existentialists
moist eyes.
not quite a tear.

Half Way House
living with another person
is like being a nation
under a state of siege
or invidious occupation,
or else you become dependent
on the largess of their
altruism - and altruism is good,
but can produce sycophants.

the hermit answers to nobody
except himself and divine providence,
and serves the common good,
he believes. by serving mainly,
if not exclusively,

between these two extremes
there seems no golden mean,
and I have found myself
at loss whatever way I turn,
and manage to complain and burn.

Lovesong Foiled
I'm trying to write a love song
to the lady I love:
"You wow me!
Where are you?
At least let me woo you"
and I would go on and on,
but my kismet and shangri-la
are foiled by a buzzing
horsefly, making me queasy
and altogether uneasy.
why must there be
distractions and
ubiquitous nuisances
on this sacred soil?
one day of uninterrupted
ecstasy escapes me -
such will it always be -
my eternal destiny,
and tolerable,
if I stay free.

Felicitas Redux
joy, joy.
her mood was joy;
her thoughts were
like a kaleidoscope
with happy colors
bleeding into each other -
crimson, azure, green -
all she wanted
was to share her happiness
with another being...
but she was separate -
her thoughts remained her own
in a black tube container
until she found the way
to take and give
the word or gentle touch
that made the other's
own kaleidoscopic feelings live.

Return to Port Of Call Home Page
Return to December 2004/January 2005 Table of Contents