Ten Thousand Bees

They came in August, like an army from the north

a large droopy bundle

on a limb they held

an old man’s beard they

became full of stingers and

wings that beat

I ran out of breath to see them

like that, they pulsed, they moved

as one they did think

their center was lovely

so strong and yet weak

they gave us their nectar

we gave them our fear

The keeper came and told them to

wait, he was housing them soon:

but they did not hear

but they wanted to go

but they did not know

he was their friend

Ten thousand bees came to live

with us now, their ghost was gone

so they wouldn’t tame

so we are their camp

so they let us dine

honey and comb divine

page 19 from Western Soul by John K Bucher

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From the Earth

In the Oklahoma Dust Bowl

My grandfather toiled

His back toward the sun

Diamondbacks coiled

Hard labor he knew

Even from his birth

Not destined for a bank

Or any kind of mirth

Loved to hunt and tell

Stories as he went

He looked you in the eye

Said what he meant

But the blessed earth is what

Drove him on and on

Cotton, corn and wheat

In the early dawn

The earth, plowed so

Fresh and brown

Seeds and water, till

The sun went down

Then came the harvest

The gathering, the sale

Another year of blessing

Another prayer prevails

His life from the earth

The only one he knew

He never owned a new car

Material things were few

He had to work when

He was old, still very proud

The earth he loved so much

Still spinning in the clouds

page 116-117 Cowboys and Witches by John K Bucher

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Yellow Roof

On thick clay tiles lay a man

A yellow sea in a far away land

Watching the sea he looks at the sky

A flock of birds descend and then goes high

He relaxes his thoughts reaching for a beer

The ships look tired as they draw near

He sips and shoos the buzzing of a fly

He wants a job but knows it’s a lie

The air is moist with beer and salt

A Hemingway afternoon down to a fault

On the beach two girls bathe in the surf

A man is selling fish knowing their worth

The trouble began in a much younger life

He used to have children, a home and a wife

Now only a saloon, a bed and the roof

He used to exist but now there’s no proof

But inside him there stirs a new sound

Maybe tomorrow from this roof I’ll come down

But until then I’ll drink and I’ll sleep

Yesterday’s gone and not even the angels will weep

Page 166 Cowboys and Witches by John K Bucher

Early Morning Songs

After a hard midnight hour

And all the dreams were an ugly sour

The darkness spreads inky black

Mind games spun the liquor and Prozac

A song rolls down a cobweb trail

Guitars and melody voices so frail

High notes drum a heartbeat spike

Songs to greet a heady gold strike

Early morning songs follow a path

Soaking warm like a hot steam bath

Music dance love never lands wrong

Whistling sidewalk work early morning song

Page 37 – California Beat Poetry Number Four – Dharma Angels by John K Bucher

You can buy it now : https://www.amazon.com/s?k=Dharma+Angels+John+K+Bucher+California+Beat+Poetry&ref=nb_sb_noss

On The Beach

Page 53 “Corkscrew Days Rolling Rock Nights

Liquor store man looks funny at me

Shakes his head and snorts

Every day I visit his sorry ass

To get my supplies, my needs, my joy

Sitting on my blanket

I watch and pull a cork

Skies are blue and the birds soar so high

I loose them on the fuzzy horizon

The wine tastes like an Italian village

In the late summer

With the sun going down

My thoughts are slow and vivid

Empty bottle and the n night birds call

Rolling Rock green

The light yellow water adds years

To my life span

I know it

The night gets cooler

Beach lights shine

Games are played

I only watch

And think

And then I sleep

Tomorrow I must go

To the liquor store man

On The Beach by John K Bucher is available on Amazon.com

Cowboys and Witches by John K Bucher

I wrote this book, or I guess parts of it from 2006-2008. It was published in 2010. The short story was a continuation of one of the characters in my first novel – The Suicide Cowboys. It was during this period I moved from Denver to Ft Collins and about once a week, my son Josh and I would drive up into the mountains to Estes Park and spend the day. We would park in town and walk up a nature trail past pools of trout and grazing elk to the the Stanley Hotel. The old hotel was where Stephen King got the story for The Shinning. We would have a drink at the bar and talk to the employees about their own supernatural experiences while they were on duty. Later we would retreat down the trail again and eat lunch at Lonigans Saloon, and Irish pub. I would go home with a car full of ideas and stories. This book holds some of them.

Just Me and the Night

Go away loneliness I want to drink Vodka

perverse drunken logic beckons me to the party

walk straight damn it the cops are watching I think

oh my God why, such a waste of the moment,

just then I girl asks me “what am I doing?”

we walk and she takes me someplace as sparks shoot from

her ass while she lies to me, what a performance!

4 am and I am at a 7-11 buying milk as a vast array of people lie

sleeping in old brick apartments. I hear a scream,

“Don’t call the cops!” I trudge home behind a black cat and let

myself in. Lying down I feel the rhythm of the night and wait

for the sleep fairies to close the gate of my mind.

Evening Street Lights

Walking along the busy sidewalks of the life soaked day

Autumn winds catches my collar and thumps my thoughts

My eyes go up to the third floor window and no lights shine

Loneliness shakes me

Damn!

I walk all this way and she is not home- Darker now

I shuffle around and go

To a corner bar and sit down

Blonde whore

Smiles

She wants a drink

I buy her one

Now what?

Her tale of woe, God

I pay

Walk out the door

Still no light

Where is she?

Cold, I stumble

What now?

The dull yellow street lights

They mock me and tell me to go home

I go as the street lights keep watch

On the third floor window

These and many more poems and stories are in Cowboys and Witches. This and all my books at Amazon.com/John K Bucher

Rainy Days and Coffee

Denver cloudburst

rusty chain

Soaked to the skin

hung over brain

Parked and shivered

old brick alley

Familiar jazz window

’bout a gal named Sally

Pedaled down Eighth

corners flooded

Sedan out of nowhere

comical but sudden

Pushed her hard

both tires went flat

Found the java

there I sat

Safe and dryer

window glazed

Sheets of rain

lightning blazed

Mountains in the distance

blurred by the storm

Flecks of snow

winter born

Piles of books

known and unknown

Stories of desires

under the stones

Thomas Wolfe speaks to me

faded cover

Turn the page

plot discover

Rain declined

remarks toward the night

Pushing up Broadway

faded street light…

This poem is found on page 35-37 in Old Photographs and Wild Dreams by

John K Bucher Sr. The hardcover version is available on Amazon.com

Fernet

Fresh from the road end of the day

Nickel words were exchanged and had their say

Heard of its myth and aim to destroy

Ginger ale was administered for a chemical joy

Burned the tongue and some memories almost too much

Fires were lit so I sent for a crutch

The mind was flushed and ready for more

New thoughts tumbled forward into the floor

and the oopps…trigger guns fire hard to the gut and the nifty music plays louder until dancing Chinese ladies with their protracted grins and orange pumkins swoop by the leave- stand up! it’s late!

Another round or three and a new bottle is found

Cheers to the flag and those can still hear its sound

and…the sounds of raindrops pouring down in the alley outside and the coming of armed troops carrying swords and singing…

some old song of love

Baker Street Boys

Baker Street Boys

Some days …I awaken to still being

a Baker Street boy

A Texas fog of childhood

memories

Old run-down house …slowly remodeled

basement shared with brother David

Tree house construction – injuries

paper route days

Rock and roll came to town

Dallas concert

Shot guns by the railroad tracks

black bass dinners

Cousins next door…funny fence stories

Thanksgiving

Growing pains…Daniel’s asthma pump

James playing under the Christmas tree

Transformative time in our childhood…personalities

….likes and dislikes…longing again for Amsden

Mrs. Cook’s History class and trips to Colorado

Funerals to remember and riding the bus

Bicycle Saturdays at the Rialto…six Pepsi caps

Mowing grass at Tanglewood…one dollar per hour

Fifty hours a week…chiggers all over…sulfur tablets

Hot summers and cold winters…sleet

Leaning to drive…drivers’ ed…license

Thinking and planning…dreams

Memories of Baker Street …boys

page 95 – 96 Old Photographs and Wild Dreams

only available in hardcover on Amazon- order yours today!

The Notorious MLG

Melrose Larry Green on Hollywood Boulevard

Old Photographs and Wild Dreams – Page 177

THE NOTORIOUS MLG

Year after year he smiles and sells

orange vest and winter shorts

Greenblatt kid from Brooklyn ….Melrose Avenue

sandwich board life

Talent out the ass from piano to singing – comic

politico

Howard Stern’s WACKPACK spitfire mouthpiece …pot stirrer

Bobo & Mary Ann

No stranger to conflict…village town crier…MBA Cornell

Celebrity accountant

In spite of all the bluster, the sandpaper beliefs – heart of pure gold

gifted entertainer

Larry inspires me when I see that smile – that GRIN

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