Here are some daily poems I found for today, September 18, courtesy of the websites poems.org and poetryfoundation.org. As I have grown older (and hopefully wiser as well), I have come to realize the poetry is a great accompaniment to autumn weather, or what passes for autumn weather in coastal Georgia, I suppose. Here’s hoping we can wear our cardigans past noon at some point this month, lol!

Deja vu, Carmen Gimenez

 It happened to me once.

Winter came, and snow quilted every inch.

I stood on the soapbox, as I was told, and made staggering accusations. The public ignored, so I retreated behind the potted yew. I was waiting for a moment I was supposed to have on a balcony overlooking the giant, gridded landscape.

The sounds I made underscored what I meant.

The potted yew was the face that I wore. It was a metaphor for what could be. The public endured. I put the potted yew behind me. I made staggering an art.

That wasn’t the truth though. Winter comes and negates all it covers. It doesn’t matter where I stand.

The balcony is a floor without walls. The yew is a hurt that shadows. The instance lives beneath us. Not just us, everybody.

The shadow hurts us. I make sounds like the truth. Fate and theft are involved. I think I told you this before. The floor is a wall that obscures.

The yew is quilt without color. Shadow is a fate you involved.

The yew on a balcony negates. I told you this before.

I was left undone. It’s what I meant. Underneath everyone.

Two- Blooded, Rolando Kattan

 I am a descendent of stillness and sailors still in motion, a brew of saltpeter and blackbird song. In just one bloody wound collide impatience and calm. If I fall silent and words ripen it’s the voice of an olive tree in its quiet seed.

I am the hesitation between hideout and sword, the yellow in all the world’s traffic lights.

In the future I’ll serve you coffee and worship you—like an icon—in a picture frame. 

Andrea Gutierrez is the managing editor of the Bryan County News.