The poetry of M.T. Jamieson


The aerodrome phoned, no flights today.
Serious weather, more on the way.

The bellhop brought his knock to the door,
Blizzard warning, choose not to ignore.

Window announced a gathering storm.
Ice crystals on glass began to form.

They studied maps and polished their boots,
And took time out of their flying suits.

The kitchen was serving steak and eggs,
Four flights, down the steps, to stretch their legs.

The city below filled up with snow,
And seemed no better a place to go.

Coffee was strong, they sat with the cook.
All three went outside to take a look.

The aerodrome phoned, no flights today.
Lovers, Ottawa, extended stay.




Drifting Some

Drifting some, a few minutes to spare,
Closing his eyes, there in outdoor’s chair.

Deep in the shade of his visor cap,
A bit of a nod, not quite a nap.

Sun is warm on his yardworking clothes.
Somewhere, nearby, a lawnmower mows.

Thinks not the next chore to be doing,
But rather of spirit renewing.

Brief, gentle, afternoon vision quest.
A mental walk, the body at rest.

Follows this path down into his mind,
Dark alone, to important stuff find.

Summers and ball-gloves, the long since gone.
Voices and faces, all since moved on.

Drifting some, a few minutes to spare.
Of yesterdays, they are all still there.

M.T. Jamieson lives with his wife, Susan, and their dog and two cats in northeastern Ohio. He is a Viet Nam Era U.S.A.F. veteran, and twice a former university student. Some of his poems have appeared in “WestWard Quarterly,” “Pancakes In Heaven,” “Northern Stars Magazine,” “The Poet’s Art,” “The Poetry Explosion Newsletter,” “the Lyric,” “Adelaide Literary Magazine,” “Evening Street Press,” “The Sow’s Ear Poetry Review,” and “Scarlet Leaf Review.”

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