Literary Yard

Search for meaning

‘Big Girls Beat Drums’ and other poems by Tom Squitieri

By: Tom Squitieri

Big Girls Beat Drums

Part the raincoat and give me your trust,
as the thump of snowflakes say goodbye to the rain
Our pattern follows the beat in our universe,
where eyes are clear
and there is splendor in the smile,
sunshine in the rain.

Where we tap into the energy
that so many ignore and those foolishly elude.

Can you feel this rhythm we have?
Yes it is real, it is true.

The softness of the dark
bade us to lean against each other,
snuggle close to the heat,
lock our fingers
and let our bodies ensure
the pulse of the drums outside.

That chirp that needs its morning coffee.
That muffled howl that is really a “hello, where are you?”
That cricket cadence we take for granted and thus miss the message.
The pattern of the world’s song to remind us of life and love.

Smooth fine, a cadence that glides, a realization that opens us.
You wear a coat when it is not cold and it makes all of us hot.
Straight strong trees, pushing to the sky,
monuments proving how possible it is to rise
and be able to grow anywhere.

You have me model for you.
On the cadence of passion.
You beat the drum of the heart pump,
of the moment of the morning
just before the stars rouse the sun to say “it’s your turn.”

Dare yourself.
Bare yourself.

The black otter rex rabbits and its cousins
have finally appeared,
even though the yard is also bare.
Their double undercoat of extraordinarily soft fur
is ready for spring.

The yard now adjusts to the drum you bang,
the cadence your offer,
the rhythm that our bodies clang
and the waves that our hearts will fully share.

Keep our fingers together for now,
as there is no reason to part.
There never will be.


The Spritz of Words

Back you lay
As the camera readies
Already steaming the room
The water bottle appears
And spritz on your body
Almost a pun to the steam
You create with no help

The photographer snaps
You in secret
Away from me
Away from my words and

You stretch and pose
The art becomes real
Your creativity is
the focus
And as the real artist
you take charge

I cannot be without words
For you
for this moment
Or any moment
the way how I touch you
with each word knowingly
The only way you permit

Give me a deep and
sweet sigh of spring,
the sweet and almost
real dream of a love.

It seems true, intense, deep,
it takes your breath away and
the emotion assails you.
As it does mine

Last night I woke up suddenly and
then I couldn’t sleep anymore,
maybe I felt you were reading my writing,
Seeing how I create them

It is still dark
And always is
Until I hear from you


The Charge

The night is long without
us wrapped around each other
Fever pitch dreams surge
the feelings more intense
Violent storms of the heart
try to direct
eager magic
Irresponsible thoughts
choreograph movements and thunder

You know the void and
you know where it waits and
drapes all over your world.
You know the fear of something
real in a
field of falsehoods and disappointments.

It is so much easier to succumb
to the ongoing vastness
of the low glum
of the world
to seek the ray of difference that struggles
to touch you, warm you,
through the
maw of mundane and mind-numbing.

Storms stir and provide
us new energy
As soon in
the gap we stand,
the lucky ones
Now our fingers must touch
to complete the charge

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