Sidewalks And Street Corners

A COLLECTION OF POETRY

Radomir Vojtech Luza

• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781642581126
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Poetry
• Index: Literature

In the underground urban landscape each of us finds ourselves in these uncertain days, bleakness, loneliness, and cavities of the soul are most prevalent. We feel like cages and boxes, steel and cardboard. We act like cobras and rats. Not because we want to, but because we think we have no choice. In the red-streak alarm America of today, sidewalks and street corners are the most potent and pregnant reminders of that emptiness. We forget what, where, and how we traversed and what each space looks like because we are taught from grade school to concentrate on the important matters in our lives. But how can you tell what is significant if you cannot comprehend what is not? How can existence flourish if one does not extend the same feelings and sensitivity to the darker and more ambivalent entities as to those lighter, more meaningful and clear? In the end, sidewalks and street corners are part of our daily lives. If they do anything, these poems capture the spirit of that cement, mortar, brick, and asphalt to offer a collection rich in voice and virtue and loud in ambiance and indigo. It is the dust, rust, dirt, and density of sidewalks and street corners that we often forget. This poetry, this very verse, then, is a sign of those staunch road blocks and hurdles in our everyday lives. But most importantly, it is also an answer or solution as to how to overcome or clear the very mental obstacles that are preventing us from achieving all that we can while waking to the brightest sun and falling asleep to the mildest moon.

On the Canvas

I come to fear

This paper

And the amnesia

It brings

The absence of thought

The very astonishment

Of ease

For it is up to me

My fingers

My deftest of touches

And it is not mine anymore

Not my sunlight

Not my brain

It belongs to my muse

My unused fuse

My well-oiled

Underappreciated blues

For I am me

Unlike anyone

Similar to everyone

I write on the canvas of time

Seeping through my capillaries

Like a loaded mime looking for nine

Fanny

You stood by the door

And I swear you were the

Most beautiful thing

I had ever seen

You were the forest

At dawn

The undulating prairie

The small of a woman’s back

I wanted to kiss you

In the worst way

And run my fingers

Through your beautiful

Brunette hair

And caress your dark

Dominican face

Because you are a dream

Come true

A feast instead of a

Supper

I live to watch you walk

A yard and a half

Father Ad Infinitum

In living room of that

One-sto...

Table of contents

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10
• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15
• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20
• Chapter 21
• Chapter 22
• Chapter 23
• Chapter 24
• Chapter 25
• Chapter 26
• Chapter 27
• Chapter 28
• Chapter 29
• Chapter 30
• Chapter 31
• Chapter 32
• Chapter 33
• Chapter 34
• Chapter 35
• Chapter 36
• Chapter 37
• Chapter 38
• Chapter 39
• Chapter 40
• Chapter 41
• Chapter 42
• Chapter 43
• Chapter 44
• Chapter 45
• Chapter 46
• Chapter 47
• Chapter 48
• Chapter 49
• Chapter 50
• Chapter 51
• Chapter 52
• Chapter 53
• Chapter 54
• Chapter 55
• Chapter 56
• Chapter 57
• Chapter 58
• Chapter 59
• Chapter 60
• Chapter 61
• Chapter 62
• Chapter 63
• Chapter 64
• Chapter 65
• Chapter 66
• Chapter 67
• Chapter 68
• Chapter 69
• Chapter 70
• Chapter 71
• Chapter 72
• Chapter 73
• Chapter 74
• Chapter 75
• Chapter 76
• Chapter 77
• Chapter 78
• Chapter 79
• Chapter 80
• Chapter 81
• Chapter 82
• Chapter 83
• Chapter 84
• Chapter 85
• Chapter 86
• Chapter 87
• Chapter 88
• Chapter 89
• Chapter 90
• Chapter 91
• Chapter 92
• Chapter 93
• Chapter 94
• Chapter 95
• Chapter 96
• Chapter 97
• Chapter 98
• Chapter 99
• Chapter 100
• Chapter 101