The Only Way To Fly

It was storm after storm

Could have been a country song,

You know, heartache after heartache,

But after all living on an Island in the

North Pacific Rain Forest you know there

Will be rain, winter storms, and more rain,

It’s like hanging out with a gorgeous woman,

You gotta know other guys are going to drool

And hit on her time after time after time,

For some the price may seem high,

But for me a North Pacific

Island and gorgeous is

The only way to fly.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling” www.StrangersAndPoetry.Com

6:30 PM November 22, 2012

Under The Half Moon

Under the half moon

And silent street lights,

Early Christmas windows

Flickering across in the mall

And up and down Shoppers Row,

Inside Marek, the Polish jazz man,

Travelling time as Davis plays

 Kind Of Blue,

Women sitting thinking,

One wonders what the woman

Are thinking,

Because under any moon

And particularly under the

Half moon you always wonder

What woman are thinking.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling“

5:07 PM November 21, 2012

Aloft In Limbo

I watched the poet

And the muse

Aloft in limbo,

Suspended in that place

Of familiarity and complacency

Where desire and longing

Are semi-sated,

Where words and rhyme

Are sedated by a flickering

Full blown love affair

Hiding in the shadows,

Teasing, coaxing,


Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling”

8:45 AM November 21, 2012

All At Once

They spoke about Deja Vu

And coincidences

Out of the blue,

The questioning …

Do we live in parallel

Or multiple universes,

And if we do …

Does what we do in one

Play on us in another,

What do you think Poet?

I’m not sure,

Do you mean horny

Here, there and everywhere,

All at once ?

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling”

8:28 AM November 19, 2012

WInd Talk

On a cold, wet, windy morning,

The Rubins knocking on the door

In search of coffee and cappuccino

On their way to visit Horn and Mortifee,

Their Hawaiian complexions bundled

Against the North Pacific chill,

As the day unfolds the wind

Grows to a full crescendo,

Waltzing the sandwich board

Down the street, bouncing

Bits of paper and branches

Off of the window,

Inside the fireplace keeping

Everyone cozy in the hum

Of conversations that you

Can’t make out except

For a word here and there,

The wind butting in and

Interrupting every time

The door opens.


Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling”

3:20 PM November 18, 2012