#curtains — Public Fediverse posts

5 Poems of Time and Art by Richard LeDue

Past Contemporaries

Why does Brahms feel like it needs
to be turned up all the way,
reminding me how the volume
of our voices soar the more we drink
cheap whisky or the light beer
we tell ourselves is healthy?

While Bach seems comfortable
being almost a whisper,
so like a prayer saving a soul
that seems to take shape in those notes
written by someone who died
long before his own music was reborn
from its own obsolescence.

~~

Written in Lieu of a Hangover

The morning sun melts
the frost and the smell of coffee
has become an oasis
without a mirage
because it’s difficult
to get drunk on metaphors.

I’ve always believed
in hard work
until I got a bad back,
while artificial intelligence
writes poetry
more youthful than me.

The birch tree
in my backyard is still
dead years later,
as if I expected
a poem like this could black out
the leaves in autumn.

~~

Common Magic

I stole this title from a dead poet
and that’ll probably piss
some people off,
but it doesn’t bring her back
to life or change her
having a hardcover $50 book
tomb (with an epitaph
that reads “Collected Poems”),
while others will wonder
who the hell this poem is about,
which seems a good way
to sum it all up.

~~

No Song

Bukowski had a bluebird
inside of him,
but I have a diseased moose:
listless eyes that once knew
the calming influence of anger,
especially towards mosquitoes
or semi-trucks full of things
someone figured out the price for,
and then there’s an antler
hanging off, waiting to fall
in the most unmusical way
while the pent-up tears
next to muffled wails
are discordant enough
to keep most away.

~~

Why I Keep My Curtains Closed

Some journal I never heard of,
who never heard of me either,
had an open submission call
and said they wanted something
sunny or inspirational,
so I looked outside
and found nothing
but the approaching darkness,
knowing it was the real light
of truth, instead of the sunset
we always try our damnedest
to make mean more
than another death
we would rather not talk about.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

5 Poems of Time and Art by Richard LeDue

Past Contemporaries

Why does Brahms feel like it needs
to be turned up all the way,
reminding me how the volume
of our voices soar the more we drink
cheap whisky or the light beer
we tell ourselves is healthy?

While Bach seems comfortable
being almost a whisper,
so like a prayer saving a soul
that seems to take shape in those notes
written by someone who died
long before his own music was reborn
from its own obsolescence.

~~

Written in Lieu of a Hangover

The morning sun melts
the frost and the smell of coffee
has become an oasis
without a mirage
because it’s difficult
to get drunk on metaphors.

I’ve always believed
in hard work
until I got a bad back,
while artificial intelligence
writes poetry
more youthful than me.

The birch tree
in my backyard is still
dead years later,
as if I expected
a poem like this could black out
the leaves in autumn.

~~

Common Magic

I stole this title from a dead poet
and that’ll probably piss
some people off,
but it doesn’t bring her back
to life or change her
having a hardcover $50 book
tomb (with an epitaph
that reads “Collected Poems”),
while others will wonder
who the hell this poem is about,
which seems a good way
to sum it all up.

~~

No Song

Bukowski had a bluebird
inside of him,
but I have a diseased moose:
listless eyes that once knew
the calming influence of anger,
especially towards mosquitoes
or semi-trucks full of things
someone figured out the price for,
and then there’s an antler
hanging off, waiting to fall
in the most unmusical way
while the pent-up tears
next to muffled wails
are discordant enough
to keep most away.

~~

Why I Keep My Curtains Closed

Some journal I never heard of,
who never heard of me either,
had an open submission call
and said they wanted something
sunny or inspirational,
so I looked outside
and found nothing
but the approaching darkness,
knowing it was the real light
of truth, instead of the sunset
we always try our damnedest
to make mean more
than another death
we would rather not talk about.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

5 Poems of Time and Art by Richard LeDue

Past Contemporaries

Why does Brahms feel like it needs
to be turned up all the way,
reminding me how the volume
of our voices soar the more we drink
cheap whisky or the light beer
we tell ourselves is healthy?

While Bach seems comfortable
being almost a whisper,
so like a prayer saving a soul
that seems to take shape in those notes
written by someone who died
long before his own music was reborn
from its own obsolescence.

~~

Written in Lieu of a Hangover

The morning sun melts
the frost and the smell of coffee
has become an oasis
without a mirage
because it’s difficult
to get drunk on metaphors.

I’ve always believed
in hard work
until I got a bad back,
while artificial intelligence
writes poetry
more youthful than me.

The birch tree
in my backyard is still
dead years later,
as if I expected
a poem like this could black out
the leaves in autumn.

~~

Common Magic

I stole this title from a dead poet
and that’ll probably piss
some people off,
but it doesn’t bring her back
to life or change her
having a hardcover $50 book
tomb (with an epitaph
that reads “Collected Poems”),
while others will wonder
who the hell this poem is about,
which seems a good way
to sum it all up.

~~

No Song

Bukowski had a bluebird
inside of him,
but I have a diseased moose:
listless eyes that once knew
the calming influence of anger,
especially towards mosquitoes
or semi-trucks full of things
someone figured out the price for,
and then there’s an antler
hanging off, waiting to fall
in the most unmusical way
while the pent-up tears
next to muffled wails
are discordant enough
to keep most away.

~~

Why I Keep My Curtains Closed

Some journal I never heard of,
who never heard of me either,
had an open submission call
and said they wanted something
sunny or inspirational,
so I looked outside
and found nothing
but the approaching darkness,
knowing it was the real light
of truth, instead of the sunset
we always try our damnedest
to make mean more
than another death
we would rather not talk about.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

5 Poems of Time and Art by Richard LeDue

Past Contemporaries

Why does Brahms feel like it needs
to be turned up all the way,
reminding me how the volume
of our voices soar the more we drink
cheap whisky or the light beer
we tell ourselves is healthy?

While Bach seems comfortable
being almost a whisper,
so like a prayer saving a soul
that seems to take shape in those notes
written by someone who died
long before his own music was reborn
from its own obsolescence.

~~

Written in Lieu of a Hangover

The morning sun melts
the frost and the smell of coffee
has become an oasis
without a mirage
because it’s difficult
to get drunk on metaphors.

I’ve always believed
in hard work
until I got a bad back,
while artificial intelligence
writes poetry
more youthful than me.

The birch tree
in my backyard is still
dead years later,
as if I expected
a poem like this could black out
the leaves in autumn.

~~

Common Magic

I stole this title from a dead poet
and that’ll probably piss
some people off,
but it doesn’t bring her back
to life or change her
having a hardcover $50 book
tomb (with an epitaph
that reads “Collected Poems”),
while others will wonder
who the hell this poem is about,
which seems a good way
to sum it all up.

~~

No Song

Bukowski had a bluebird
inside of him,
but I have a diseased moose:
listless eyes that once knew
the calming influence of anger,
especially towards mosquitoes
or semi-trucks full of things
someone figured out the price for,
and then there’s an antler
hanging off, waiting to fall
in the most unmusical way
while the pent-up tears
next to muffled wails
are discordant enough
to keep most away.

~~

Why I Keep My Curtains Closed

Some journal I never heard of,
who never heard of me either,
had an open submission call
and said they wanted something
sunny or inspirational,
so I looked outside
and found nothing
but the approaching darkness,
knowing it was the real light
of truth, instead of the sunset
we always try our damnedest
to make mean more
than another death
we would rather not talk about.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

5 Poems of Time and Art by Richard LeDue

Past Contemporaries

Why does Brahms feel like it needs
to be turned up all the way,
reminding me how the volume
of our voices soar the more we drink
cheap whisky or the light beer
we tell ourselves is healthy?

While Bach seems comfortable
being almost a whisper,
so like a prayer saving a soul
that seems to take shape in those notes
written by someone who died
long before his own music was reborn
from its own obsolescence.

~~

Written in Lieu of a Hangover

The morning sun melts
the frost and the smell of coffee
has become an oasis
without a mirage
because it’s difficult
to get drunk on metaphors.

I’ve always believed
in hard work
until I got a bad back,
while artificial intelligence
writes poetry
more youthful than me.

The birch tree
in my backyard is still
dead years later,
as if I expected
a poem like this could black out
the leaves in autumn.

~~

Common Magic

I stole this title from a dead poet
and that’ll probably piss
some people off,
but it doesn’t bring her back
to life or change her
having a hardcover $50 book
tomb (with an epitaph
that reads “Collected Poems”),
while others will wonder
who the hell this poem is about,
which seems a good way
to sum it all up.

~~

No Song

Bukowski had a bluebird
inside of him,
but I have a diseased moose:
listless eyes that once knew
the calming influence of anger,
especially towards mosquitoes
or semi-trucks full of things
someone figured out the price for,
and then there’s an antler
hanging off, waiting to fall
in the most unmusical way
while the pent-up tears
next to muffled wails
are discordant enough
to keep most away.

~~

Why I Keep My Curtains Closed

Some journal I never heard of,
who never heard of me either,
had an open submission call
and said they wanted something
sunny or inspirational,
so I looked outside
and found nothing
but the approaching darkness,
knowing it was the real light
of truth, instead of the sunset
we always try our damnedest
to make mean more
than another death
we would rather not talk about.

Copyright © 2026 Richard LeDue
All Rights Reserved

#Clouds are like #curtains in the #sky #photography

#Clouds are like #curtains in the #sky #photography

#Clouds are like #curtains in the #sky #photography