Homage: A Poem and Ten Haikus in Loving Memory

02.05.2021 - USA - Pressenza New York

Homage: A Poem and Ten Haikus in Loving Memory
Image by Andreas Zedler from Pixabay

LITERARY

 

 

 

 

by Amyre Loomis

Not Alone on Saturday at 2 AM
For Prof. Warsh, LIU English 503, October 2010

2am night moon and window light wakes-up my four bedposts
just walked up tar path past the fort and old bones, all alone
in green park that noticeably slopes upward for a few blocks,
more so when I’m cycling up over this road (other times of day)

not tonight because the moon is full of slowed way-down air
darkest gray hue to see way up through, while my shoe boot’s
chunky heels clunk cement to move forward solid muscles up –
then I stop to shop & sit at 24-hour bodega, alone there too

my narrow hems crawled, craved direction by street green light
now rays are streaking in quietly, while still night moves human
voices inside, streaming past me carrying their why would yous,
late looseness flows with limb’s laughs assuring, I’m not alone

I return a buddy’s call (came in when theatre darkened its lights)
who’s struggling through chemotherapy treatment for 2” tumor
near kidney at 50, says cancer surgery was most alone time ever
tonight he’s weathered, but just under a month left of chemo to go

call mother, she’s widowed 10 years, sits alone in dark absorbing
light from bright big tv screen, moonlight slides past glass door
curtains in room with king-sized mattress & bed linens that are only
pulled on one-side to stay up, late with the night owl club members

founded by: up-talking late writers like me with morning missions
of moon worship, or/and aged bones roaming, sleeplessness at 2am
while in my own room, just as I entered from own womb alone, still
with mothers & others, who will link uphill on roads lit by the moon

 

Lived Life of Lewis Loved in Haikus, February 2021

Lively soul! Mentor-friend’s
accepting arms folded round
creative writing

Changed me with focus
filled times in joyful presence
of astral mind’s genius

Heart aches missed moments
passed away on God’s Sunday
Poet Lewis Warsh

a kingly Priest among
Theory of Writing grad class
princely poet Pups

taught in plush plum rooms
LIU Brooklyn grounds breath
gets monkey off back

Workshops connect texts
club poetry readings rocked
drinking wine three hours

Pupils mined Professor’s
engaging, kind leadership
prophetic purpose

in happiness eyes
with Blue Jay feathers inside
above stained rouge mouth

a Cardinal who chirps
LIVE, love, live, WRITE, create, LOVE, live!
Kudos peppered-hair Sage

Friendship defines Warsh
Completed assignment Prof.
Rest now sweet spirit

 


About the poet:

 Amyre Loomis works as a writer-photographer in the worlds of politics, education, arts, and faith; she finished a BA in English at the University of Michigan, a BFA in Lens Media at Richmond University in London and completed coursework for her MFA in Creative Writing at LIU Brooklyn.

 

 

 

Footnote:

Homage to Lewis Warsh, who was a poet, a prose writer, and one of the founding professors of the MFA program in Creative Writing at Long Island University, Brooklyn Campus. Professor Warsh passed away on November 15, 2020. His students and friends honored his memory…writing.

Categories: Culture and Media, North America
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