Father's Hardware

Daddy had a shotgun
shotgun had a shell
shell filled with powder and shot
powder and shot packed tight
tight against plastic casing
plastic casing loaded in chamber
chamber of grey, molded, shaped, metal assembled
metal assembled into instrument of death
Death Pointed at Shep
Shep looked at Death
and yawned.

- DA Boucher

Jongleur Poetry Series, January 2010

January 9, 2010

Jongleur Poetry Series
Lawrence Heritage State Park
Visitors Center
Corner of Jackson & Canal Streets
Lawrence, MA
Doors @ 6:00pm

Hosted by Robin Linn & D. A. Boucher

Featuring Poets: Regie Gibson, Diana Saenz, Albert Turner Jr, & Natelie Young

Open Mic follows featured readers.

Information: Robin Linn, poemmeister (at) gmail.com, or D. A. Boucher, dabsasp (at) gmail.com

Beat Night at the Press Room -

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Beat Night
Press Room, Upstairs
77 Daniel St
Portsmouth, NH
6:30pm doors
$3.00
Hosted by Larry Simon

4 features with musical accompaniment & an open mic, what more could you want?

Food & Drink? Yah, they got that, too, & fabulous Poets for company.

Shave Me

In desperate need of a shave
Face and neck
itch with scruff,
Stiff fluff,
And not enough
For a beard or ‘stache.

Grizzled visage
Of an old man
But I’m not dated
And life sated,
As once berated,
Without fur I’m young.

Vizzled grisage
Of spirit
Corners lined,
Years refined,
And age undefined;
An Immortal Being.

Crankshafts, Sparkplugs, Grease, & Apple Pie

For the Highway Poets, Peddlar, et al

(Poet Noet: any resemblance persons living or dead is purely coincedental)


Mother was a Biker
Out on Highway One
All the Angels liked her
Leading every run.
Mother was a Biker
Modified choppers and soccer
All the Angels spiked her
Number one goal tending blocker.
Mother was a Biker
Mother was a Biker
Stood about six foot four
All the Angels piked her
Left ‘em panting…”no…more…”
Mother was a Biker
Regent of Highway One
All the Angels wouldn’t strike her
Known to carry a gun.
Mother was a Biker
Mother was a Biker
Stamped by a mom tattoo,
All the Angels names in Rikers,
& Prayers for the crew.
Mother was a Biker
Out on highway fun
All the Angels liked her
Leading every one.
Mother was a Biker
Mother was a Biker


& Father wasn't so bad himself.

Brew'd Awakening Open Mic Events

Brew'd Awakening Open Mic, 1st and 3rd Thursday Poetry Open Mic & Slam (Hosted by Anthony Febo)
2nd and 4th Thursday- Acoustic Open Mic (Hosted by Justin Burn of Thunderpants Johnson and Reverend JJ fame)

Brew'd Awakening Coffeehaus is a great little place to hang out with friends, bring or meet a date, surf the net or read a book. We are cozy and have that 'old favorite sweatshirt' feel. Our employees are social and entertaining. The music you hear during the day will depend somewhat on their mood. If you request something and we have it we can play it as well.


Hours
Monday - Friday 6:30am - 9:00pm
Saturday 7:00am - 9:00pm
Sunday 7:00am - 7:00pm

We are not like your typical chain coffeehouse. We do not want to be quite honestly.

We may not fit for everyone and we are cool with that. Our clientele is very diverse from the young college crowd to the seniors living at Father John.

If interested in playing on Saturday nights please email us at info (at) rewdawakening.com

Contact Information
 Phone: 978 454 BREW (2739)
Current Address: 61 Market St
Lowell, MA 01852

Website: http://www.brewdawakening.com

On the Cusp of Seasons (thoughts from an alleged curmudgeon)

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...
I'll be home for...
Dashing through the...
Horse knows the...
Away in a manger...
Oh, tannenbaum....
Deck the halls with...
Silver and gold...
Dinner's in the...
Chestnuts roasting on an...
Oh, silent night...
Here comes...
t'was the night before...
It's beginning to look a lot like....

Winter's Solstice,
longest daylight,
evening's darkness,
Revelers in torchlight;
singing merry songs,
stepping forebear's dance,
righting epoch's wrongs,
rekindling romance.

I went to the village,
I walked in the town,
I knelt down in the city,
filled with sadness and pity,
& prayed, God upturn the frown.

Surrounded by pretty lights,
sugary, holiday bites,
faces ruddy and gay,
toys dancing ballet,
well hung men in tights.

I went to the sylvan,
I walked in the wood,
I knelt down in the forest,
the lap of the Goddess,
& gave thanks for all that's good.

Ah, seasonal delights,
mindset flies with kites,
impromptu gay ballet,
celebrating solstice day,
in my bright white, tights.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...
I'll be home for...
Dashing through the...
Horse knows the...
Away in a manger...
Oh, tannenbaum....
Deck the halls with...
Silver and gold...
Dinner's in the...
Chestnuts roasting on an...
Oh, silent night...
Here comes...
t'was the night before...
It's beginning to look a lot like....


- DA Boucher

Poetry Corner, 2010 Schedule

Here's the up to date schedule of features for 2010 Poetry Corner. Several dates are still open ... contact me if you are interested in a feature slot:

 

UU Church Chapel

58 Lowell St

Nashua, NH

8pm, $3.00

 

Hosted by Doc Cote

Jan. 8; Beau Williams & Friend
Feb. 12; Donald Wellman & TBA
Mar. 12;
Ap. 9; Rene Schwiesow & Louisa Clerici
May 14; Valerie Raudonis & TBA
Jun. 11;
Jul. 9;
Aug. 13; Peddlar & Friends
Sept. 10;
Oct. 8; D. A. Boucher & TBA
Nov. 12;
Dec. 10; Doc Cote & TBA


For Booking 411, email: dabsasp (at) gmail.com

Tempe, Arizona Haiku & Tanka 05/31/06

Crossing against lights

Angry horn sounds, “hey, asshole!”

Yes, I’m a Masshole..



Thank you very much,

From Lawtown and we don’t need

No stinking crosswalks!



Look over golf course

New homes from, Superstitions

to Silly Mountain;

quiet spot to smoke ganja,

write, and break in new Bud bomb.



Small desert mountain

Phoenix suburbs encircle

Short hike to summit

Trail relatively tidy;

Plastic bottles litter peak.



Sign on store window

In Tempe, Arizona,

"No Handguns Allowed"