Category: love
-
“Pocket Thoughts” issue 1 Issue 1 of “Pocket Thoughts” contains my poem ‘Hundreds of words’ – take a look!!!
-
Like I suppose Columbus held while he sailed the ocean blue, I try to rediscover you with a brass compass. Like I’ve seen Gandhi wear, while nonviolently battling the Brits, I battle old photos through clear round gold frames. Like I learned da Vinci designed, in between the helicopter and scuba gear, on my wall…
-
I’m scratching like an addict because I cannot get enough of you
-
He had not served in the European theater like his grandfather who battled Hitler and loved his country (March 23, 1943) or in the swampy hell of Southeast Asia like his father who’d been diminished by protestors and volunteered to return (August 14, 1968) He did not commute to an elevator and a desk in…
-
He’d always been told (by who?) the pursuit is more gratifying than the capture or (more simplified) that getting is better than having and this (he found) was accurate because as difficult as it was (had been) to earn her attention keeping her affection was (at times) a clock’s tick away from torturous — copyright…
-
Sky blue hardhat under his arm and gnarled hand holding a tin lunchbox he’d walk out the back door and into pre-dawn West Virginia. Still being small I really didn’t understand what he did between the time the old green Pontiac rolled up the driveway in the morning and when he walked through the same…
-
My hands are far from perfect but the way they fit into and in-between yours is perfect and my only wish is that rather than my hand in yours and the free one covering them that mine would be big enough to hold every part of you and all of us the way my heart…
-
To much of the world hallowed ground is a grotto under a church in oh little town. To others it’s a sacred monolith in Mecca or along the banks of the river Ganges. Some feel it’s the killing fields of Gettysburg or where their hearts are buried South Dakota. And others find hallowed two holes…
-
Every fall rain or shine – shine is better – the trek to a town 30 minutes to the south (is anything in Connecticut really south?) is made by he and his boys and this one-day round trip has been made ten years running and now seems like a reflex rather than a plan. For…
-
The red brick walls and pea green trim look tired and the rust on the window frames is visible from any distance. This decay is amplified by the beautiful sepia brick replacement being built to its right. As much as you want (need) the building to be there forever, and wonder from your home three…
-
Title piece from my book of poetry and short fiction – available on Amazon and B&N by searching ‘steven harz’ — The cloud that covers me when I trace the curve of your back The blindness that overcomes me when I see the back of your knee The hangover I fight through on the morning after we…
-
Anything that I’ve done in the past six months has been done perfunctorily for I am never free of the thought of the phone call or the conversation that informs me that ‘you’ will not be continuing your role in ‘us’ We are both in demand and where I ignore my inbox and select not…
Steven Harz / Americana Soul 