A key unlocking
A parade of possibilities,
Unread books to be read
Well read books to be reread
Writers to know
Painters to peruse
Places to visit and possess
Poems to be penned
Short stories to be started
Novellas to effuse
Like the smoke of his
His morning ritual
Waking his deepest
Is how reading Hem’s
Away from potentialities
To finding the key
To moving with ease
As the main character
In his widest dreams
Somnambulist no mas! No mas!
Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, November, 2016.
I’ve been reading, no, feasting on Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast”
this week; and am now submerging myself into his “The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway: The Finca Vigia Edition”. We shall soon be tracing Hem’s steps in Paris.
One of those days Dad,
One of those days where
I reached in my pocket for my phone
To call you Dad
Just to chat and see what’s on your mind
Maybe share some things
Just to tell you how well I grilled the chicken
Share some love for each other
And for life or
Just talk about the weather
Between the pauses of silence
A knowing, the knowing
One of those days Dad
How much I missed you Dad
How much I miss you now, Dad
One of those days,
One of those days.
Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, A Sunday in August, 2016
Thoughts sharp like the talons of the rare red-shouldered hawk
Having dropped the remains of lunch,
Bones and the little bit left of flesh of the small rodent crunched
On the hot pavement below
Like a frying pan receiving the crushed, brown shells of an egg
Mixed with white and yolk,
A messy mix,
Grey clouds opened like the curtains of a one act play
To the thunderous applause of cicada,
Rain drops absorbing the stored up energy of the day
and turning into the steam that will carry away her prayers and
her fading hopes
for a different tomorrow.
Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, August 23, 2016, Orlando, FL
Thank you for following me on my new website, http://www.johnmhines.com
where I’m posting my handcrafted poetry. :).
Please visit my new blog site at
Sincerely & Gratefully,
These moments slowly melting like the Sun
Into the emerald green Irish sea,
Left longing, counting the days ‘til your return
So soon after your departing,
Making wishes while slowly twisting my
Waking up from siesta’s sweet slumber
To find your spot empty,
Learning to navigate once again the ebbs and flows
Of the hallways of solitude,
No map or GPS needed,
Leaning on the solace offered by a Soul
That matured in the solicitations of solitude’s embrace.
Handcrafted poetry by John M. Hines, 07/03/2016
This poem is about missing someone. It is also about learning to be alone and comfortable with the mysteries made aware in “solitude’s embrace”.
Cornucopic feasts for the senses
Brain on fire
High Line High of Holies
Hammering Sounds of Industrial
Amidst nature’s whispers.
Odes of joyous
Singing anthems of praise
To the gods for this lovely day
Handcrafted poems by John M. Hines, June, 2016
I wrote this poem last week while slowly walking the High Line in New York City’s Chelsea area. I was taken aback by the art around me created by both humankind and nature in a setting of industrialization. While my wife captured the surrounding stimulations on her camera, I slipped into the shade in joyous contemplation to try to put the emotions of the place into words.