Marc Mannheimer Poems

Trace a compulsion
back to its roots
the genesis of a mental/behavioral malady,
a kink, a spanner in the works of ones functioning.
...

little sparrow,
feathery frumper,
flitting feet
over rock, over rifts
...

Red-orange,
plump, orange-yellow orb,
sitting on a nest of treetops,
treetops spreading tall
...

After my last haircut,
I took the mirror
which my barber gave me,
checked over the work,
...

I long
for recognition,
kudos for my poetry,
kind words for my song, for my story
...

A mid-40ish couple,
walking from their back yard,
a quaint, quaint house,
trellised, treed, covered with skillfully placed green.
...

Some old dogs can learn a new trick or two,
of this I am sure.
Take my Dad,
please.
...

This old man,
my silent, accidental bus-companion for the last 15 years.
He looks like an Amish man,
a long wispy, white beard, no moustache,
...

Sea changes.
Plate tectonics.
Can mountains feel,
as new ranges shift into place,
...

Always told
to hold it in –
so actions bold
are where we begin
...