Posts

John Ramm Poems

Legend of John Ramm  (first published at Squawk Back)
Not sure why he spells his name with two m's sometimes. Maybe it's just been that long. You can tell by the way he sniffs the day, it's not all good here. He wants you to think it is. We all do. How are you, I'm fine. Do they even give you time to answer? I sit across, study his antlers, want to set him free. But his handlers just won't let me.
JD DeHart
Like Ramms at Play  (first published at Venus in Scorpio)
He was a creature of the forest, at work and at play, then forced into an office. But all that has been said before. Now the family must manage the remains, decide if they will return to the forest glen, scamper and rut, or make the continual business climb.
JD DeHart
John Ramm Visits the Library
Shhh, echoes the front of the library with its many books and few people
There is a stamping and an animal snorting from the science section, causing the librarian to rise
Telling the dear Mr. Ramm she wishes he coul…

We Caged the Minotaur

We Caged the Minotaur
When we first found him, he was so alive playing his little game at the center of that whatever it's called.
Now he just sits, listless with empty eyes. T-shirt sales spiked two months ago.
Since then, the interest has waned. Nobody wants to see a sad, moping, dull creature of lore.
Pretty soon we'll ship him off and he can spend his  final sad days in a sadder zoo and all of us will have moved on.
JD DeHart
First published at Red River Review.

John Ramm's Retirement Party

John Ramm's Retirement Party 
This poem is for the recently departed Mr. John Ramm, a dedicated co-worker who was found one day grazing in a field,
and who now exists in the halls of this great company’s memory, a horned figure once stuffed into a business suit, now mounted upon the wide victory wall.
JD DeHart
First published at Poems and Poetry Blog.

An Ode to Heraclitus

An Ode to Heraclitus
It’s true that nothing stays the same, the lead singer taking over the former crooner’s place, learning of death on a late Friday night, wondering how the weight will fall, will this result in a withdrawal into self, watching the slow destruction of the building where we met and knew each other better, listening to the words that used to give comfort, now blaringly shallow and vague, finally forgetting who we were as children, becoming whatever it is we are now, be it husk or full-fledged living creature, be it static or dynamic character
filling the void of the page.
JD DeHart
First published at Eye On Life Magazine.

Orange Epidemic

Orange Epidemic
I dreamed about a world where, suddenly at the edges of their being, some people started turning orange, burning shades of autumn, and so the landlords and officers, wearing their capitalistic top hats, threw these shades of persons into chains, stuffing them into Orwellian overalls, and put them to diligent work building a new country, throwing up the guard of a new regime. I have to stop reading dystopian fiction
before turning the lamp out.
JD DeHart
First published at Eunoia Review

Grease Monkey

Grease Monkey
fur-faced  he reaches for the wrong part, tweaks it, pulls it, squeals at it, then puts it back so the engine can finally idle once more.
JD DeHart
Published at Medusa's Kitchen.

Zeus the Action Hero

Zeus the Action Hero
They found him on a far-reaching casting call. There had been a time when he would pretend to be a swan. Pretending to be Stallone sounded cooler. Lights, camera, action, and it was all thunder and bolts, fastidiously signing autographs when the director yelled cut.
JD DeHart
First published at Poems and Poetry Blog.