Kenneth Edward Hart

A New Jersey author

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Archives for December 24, 2011

For Morris Nanton

December 24, 2011 by Kenneth Hart

For Morris Nanton

That man’s dancing on that piano.

He’s big and bulky as me

and knows what it’s like to feel awkward

and listen to him dancing and talking.

 

Playing long sets, just right

Filling in betweens with solo introductions

When that man’s up there, he sitting with me all the time

 

Wearing a loose turnaround shirt

Listening over his shoulder to that silky drum and

the bow draw and finger-walk on the bass

 

That man hears the music of clinking glasses,

The cooperation of ice, alcohol and a good pace

that makes the night feel special

 

In front of a smoked mirror with shades,

he raises his head to let the spirit flow freely.

He doesn’t say anything stupid

but he gets those silly looks

Filed Under: Poems

Rooms

December 24, 2011 by Kenneth Hart

Rooms

When a room needs a door, its function is to close.

An open room is for people and their need for space

Windows are eyes in the face of a room.

Plants and walls are ears.

The fireplace and cellar, closets and cabinets are internal organs.

New furniture changes a fraction of the feel of a room.

Noise and movement are pulse.

Cleaning is the stroking of a room.

Pipes are veins and circuits are nerves.

Paint is the complexion of a room.

Steps and arches are the pride of a room and most curves show balance.

Corners and shadows hold the memory of a room.

A ticking clock puts a room in tune and

A ringing telephone is cacophony.

Rooms have longer life spans than people.

A cuckoo clock expresses the humor of a room.

Most rooms like alcohol and get hangovers.

Rooms compete for attention.

When you sleep in a room, you wake with some knowledge of it.

Rooms without widows are more sensitive to sound.

Dampness is the depression of a room.

Rooms contribute to their own temperature.

Sterile rooms are mute.

In the depth of a wall, where does a new room begin?

A room is aware of its secret places.

Rugs and furniture are the makeup of a room and rooms cry after them.

The voice of a room can intensify the air and speak telepathically.

When people leave, rooms attract other inhabitants.

Rooms are afraid of the wind.

A room is a natural thing.

Filed Under: Poems

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Recent Posts

  • It’s Only So (Jazz)
  • Maga
  • Lunch Whistles ( Jazz)
  • Humpy Trumpy
  • The Lord Knows

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  • The Tempo of Experience
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