Alan Hickman
Alan Hickman Poems
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Old maids sit in trolley cars
Up and down the busy streets
Young men strum on blue guitars
...
From the cockpit of my Daddy’s jet,
Our lawn was just a green patch on the block;
But Daddy wasn’t looking down those days
He’d flown to Thule, in a plane that swam
...
You said your marriage was a failure
That you were raising a six-year-old son
All by yourself
That jobs were scarce
...
At night when the lights are out
And I dare to open my eyes
What I see in the half light
Is a commonplace most rare
...
And God so loved the world
That he gave his only Son
To be cursed and spat upon
Beaten and clubbed
...
I'm smiling out loud to myself and why not?
The sun is still shining (the air smells of spring)
I should be able to finish my book
And the pain in my shoulder? —it's
...
The Best Poem Of Alan Hickman
Spa (Hot Springs)
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Old maids sit in trolley cars
Up and down the busy streets
Young men strum on blue guitars
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Pilgrims gather at the sump
To fill their homely samovars
With rusty liquid from a pump
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Sidewalk touts hawk lemonade
In the park policemen wink
At winos on the promenade
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Artist hacks in residence
Paint the sun on velvet, black
For kings and former presidents
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Chinese men play dominos
In rooms where on another day
A tart pulls on her pantyhose
In the spa city of Hot Springs
Healing waters tip the pail
As ponies gather at the gate
To chase each other’s pony tail.
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4/24/2024 8:42:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
