Read an Excerpt
The Luster of Everyday Things
pictures & poetry celebrating life's small treasures & simple pleasures
By MATTHEW ALLEN Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2014 Dr. Matthew Allen
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4669-9979-4
CHAPTER 1
Natural Wonders
Blue Voyageur
A generous dollop
of deep-sea blue,
freckled and striped,
perched on a pallet.
Flexing wind-stiff wings
like twin steel doors,
folded as effortlessly
as a winning hand.
A bold adventurer posing
in momentary stillness:
jungle born but flitting
between continents.
Stretching languidly
in the sun
or spooling up
to ride the wind.
Resting on a friendly carpet
or clinging
to what holds it captive
as we do.
Fall Fashion
Badge of courage,
teardrop of God,
Canadian melody,
sinewy snowflake,
flying fire,
blood red bonus
Dropping
daily
for
our
delight.
Luxurious Livery
Dragoon with a white plume,
ginger hair and peacock puff,
scarlet cummerbund wound
tightly round steel spine
boasting golden braid.
Flicking back and
forth, and touching
down
ever so
lightly in the stream.
Pausing deft-intently like a royal
patiently exchanging pleasantries
along a long receiving line or
an assassin waiting
in the wings.
True Confections
Afternoon Tea
Spinster's gin,
empire's elixir,
Chinese medicine,
mystic's medium,
temporary sanity.
Yet, elevated to a daily ritual,
humble tea may be
a pleasure served in treasure:
Sunbursts embroidered on white light,
with cucumber sandwiches waiting in rows,
plump scones lounging by strawberry mounds,
and sugar bombs dropped from silver tongs.
Cold Collation
The best cold collation is
still best
and cold.
A collection in name only;
really a mix of mixed
up things sliced ever so
thinly
and accidently set apart
together.
Like tight
pin-striped
executives
and voluptuous showgirls
Suddenly thrown together
but keeping carefully apart
on an elevator
stuck
between floors.
Sensual Delights
Rose globules
carefully clustered
in a golden nest
with feigned indifference
Like a gaggle of
naughty school girls
parading lazily
down the hall
Or luscious lovers meeting,
skin taught with expectation,
waiting to explode
with pleasure at a touch.
Oh You Glorious
Artery clogger
laden with mayo,
sprinkling grease on coffin lids;
jamming fat
into waiting widow-makers.
Yet with no more
insidious intent
than a wayward
piece of cheese.
How happily unrepentant you are
under your delicate
white canopy
Like a virgin bride awaiting consummation.
Arabian Nights
Sweet dark maiden
of a thousand dusky dreams,
You steal softly to my bed
with silky sinuous embraces
Intent solely on my pleasure,
your perfume wafts me awake.
Gently kissing my waiting lips,
as I lay there
poised
between yesterday's fatigue
and today's delight
You tingle my limbs and
send my heart soaring.
You fill my drowsy body
with fragrant new life:
Electricity that turns
and tumbles deep inside
As the sun rises
over your oval temple.
Household Goods
Pink Flamingoes
Pink flamingoes don't
perch in my kitchen,
let alone peck my table
in the cool grey dawn.
So, as I suck the dregs
of my too-quick coffee,
I am transfixed
by the vision of
a lean black flamingo
hooking his umbrella head
over a borrowed chair.
"Is he hanging there?"
I wonder:
too poised, too balanced,
standing lightly on his wooden toe.
Parquet Palace
Parquet Prison
Can I give myself room
to grow here
in the shining confines
of hardwood floor
hemmed in by glass and
locked away each day?
Like everyone,
I have needs:
Water to soak
my thirsty feet
Breezes to exercise
my stiff limbs
Earth to anchor
my shining trunk
Sun to feed
my waiting fingers
For I must dive
into dark loam
Plant my searching feet
in wet warm earth
Drink deep from cold
subterranean springs
* * *
So, dear keeper
of the keys ...
Bless my trembling fingers
with waiting sunshaft
for a moment
Bounce my stiff arms
in dancing breeze
by the hour
Bathe my starving toes
with sweet water
for all eternity.
Silencio
There is a hush—a palpable
hush
after the rush and
shuffle
fade into the still night air
and silence sinks slowly in
with gingerbread huffs
of leisurely delight.
I sit savoring
the suddenly
hollow wholeness
of a cooling room
Like a cat by a blue bowl
about to lap milk
silently, precisely
with its pale pink tongue.
Written Off
Word Processing
Brave I stand, facing the future,
secure in superior
Information Technology:
Better than laser jet for readability,
VISA-clear and user-friendly,
booted up far beyond
brutal BIC and puerile pencil.
A slim cylinder of onyx and gold
encasing pump and feeder;
elegantly etched, conveniently clipped.
A lifetime of poise and precision
at the risk of purple fingers.
Hello, My Old Friend ...
Ever-patient listener,
wide white horizon,
sole honest broker,
deft probing therapist.
Hard to look in the face sometimes:
Like a disobedient husband
returning to a faithful wife,
I come back to you each morning,
pen in hand instead of roses.
I Love the Buzz
I love the buzz of poetry in my brain:
the rocking, thrusting dazzle of delight,
the slow tingling tranquility of drowsy drug,
the sweet shyness of suggested meaning,
the jolting alpine air of sudden discovery,
the careful cut and paste of satisfying play.
But the buzz is best together, like the small
sensuous ceremony of martinis made for two.
Strange Attire
The Ties That Bind
Nooses loosened
in the bright
night air.
These gaily
constraining
rings of power
and paisley pleasure:
Striped regimentals
and school colours.
Preppy pink confections
singular in silk.
Mysterious maroon
and blue horizons.
Flashes of gold
and crimson dashes.
Flags and badges
cut and trimmed
like waxed mustaches.
Vestigial feathers
borne or flaunted
through the day
Only to be
so gladly
cast
away.
Shoes & Shocks
So ... the other shoe has finally
fallen
with a hollow
Slap, bounced once,
and laid itself down
beside its
slightly jaded mate
Tilting jauntily
at the ceiling,
wearing its warm
insides rakishly
Relaxing for once,
as one
of a curious couple
getting ready for bed.
Surreptitious Servants
Snaking ever so silently around
constantly complaining waists.
Dangling languidly from well-wrought wrists
as inevitable rainbow sculptures.
Clutching firmly to our out-stretched arms
like anxious children in a crowd.
Encompassing carefully our fragile feet
with trimly tailored splints.
Faithfully accompanying us on all our journeys,
capacious companions made of sterner stuff.
Oblivious to all distractions like bodyguards
or fashion models on purposeful parade.
These surreptitious servants
standing silently by our side.
Cow skin tanned and turned to
glossy impervious perfection.
The Watch That Ends the Night
Ticking contentedly
like a healthy heart
Pulsing with rhythm
like a born musician
Marking the minutes
like a faithful scribe
Booking our appointments
like a silent secretary
Tracking our travel
like an oval odometer
Dividing our days
like invisible bookends
Completing our wardrobe
like an attentive butler
Wearing its jewels
from the inside out
Waving its hands
with delicate decorum
Counting down to eternity.
Rat Pack Revisited
Blowing smoke and tilting
our fedoras undaunted
at the dawn
Still jaunty after a night
of cards and carousing
and boozy bravado
Marching out to
meet the morning
freshly creased
Smiling style.
New Plumage
Old clothes, hanging in a closet,
quiet as a mortuary,
—washed, sorted, tagged—
awaiting final disposal:
Baggy grey flannels,
flapping like a breeze-blown tent.
Cracked black brogues,
eroded by a thousand silent paces.
Yards of drab tapestry
draped shapelessly over dented
belts:
The shirt she gave you;
another with the old school crest.
Someone's pinching pinstripe suit;
running shoes embarrassingly
bright:
Relics of old allegiances,
flags of faded love,
mementoes of good intentions.
Peel them off
like a snake shedding
its skin.
Leave them behind
like a lizard losing its
tail.
Grow new plumage
and fly brightly
away!
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Luster of Everyday Things by MATTHEW ALLEN. Copyright © 2014 Dr. Matthew Allen. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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