5 poems from sam pereira

Sam Pereira is an American poet with roots in the Azores, the island of Terceira. Sam has been writing and publishing poetry for over 40 years.

Here are five unpublished poems by Sam Pereira.

Boarding Pass

I have become one of the old timers Who sit on benches sometimes

Accompanied by dogs and wishing Proper coordinates for the remainder Of my day but in spite of that And just as quickly I’m off To the Counterculture Café For a grilled cheese and shake Hoping to die on a full stomach and Only a small amount of zest

The oldest oak in the park has fallen over While the traffic light on Kern

Changed from yellow to red

That’s how all walls begin their upstart ways

A little acumen to the heart and a smile

Some fog on its wagon train of grief

That’s also how it ends when whatever is left

Includes this sacrosanct business

Where you suddenly cough and are sitting On a train for Beirut or Heaven

Give Me a Carton of Edna Millays

Maybe it’s the constant rain

That makes me crave Millay today

During the walks in the field

As a boy just wanting to get out

The rain soothed the rain brought hope

And then the rain was on a bus

Headed to Chicago’s desperate trains

These cravings for the 20th Century

Give me a false sense of security

As they say and as I prepare to go

Into the attic of old religions

I understand the nuns not showing

Edna having drinks and on the town

With godless men and godless gods

I understand the stern looks

Hiding in the shift of black starched clothes

Designed to take the outlaw out And ream his eyes for good

The Carnage of Soup and Goodbyes

I feel sopped Like the bread At the early festas

You wear me out too She whispered And she said it like a prayer

This kind of thing Became the only testament To those foreboding hours

Breathing each other in It was the 20th Century again The heartbreak hovered nearby

Darkness covered the spread Of smudge and sweat brought out When dancing on the head of sin

In the Air in a jar left behind By those partying roaches next door

All of this must seem mad now The rain boiling in the gutters

The two of us calling it Spring A calmness at the grace in our surprise

Moving Day

His heart gave out

On the day the movers came To dismantle the bookcases

The pages of the books began Boarding their planes for Paris

No one was left to hold them Here on the plain of destiny

Recognizing Power in the Sanctified Wind for Susan

We’ll talk later About the notorious winters

How we survived them Wrapped up by a fireplace

Also the wolves who’d come down From Canada and were now outside

On the porch looking for handouts But willing to take just a hand

In place of the missing kindnesses

We find ourselves reflecting on

The first time I held you I sang I poured you a bit of Mont Something

All of their prologues remained The same as before

The story of a life gone bad And fixed again and again

In the shadows holding their wrists And taking their pulse

In this moonlight’s last dance What a journey he thought

Secrets on a truck for God knows where Sam Pereira