20 Poems by Tom Crider

Selected Poems by Tom Crider

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Tom Crider

  • Helping Her to Go

    She wobbles on her bike and fallsI can’t, she says. You can, I say.I hold her body steady,then push her on her way. Pedal hard, I tell heras she tips from side to side—I’m running now to catch her,but she’s learning how to ride. When she’s out beyond my reaching,I hear her laugh and knowI’m Read more

  • Cold Comfort

    The sun is nowhere to be seenand an icy wind is slicing throughleafless trees. An old friend has diedand another is trying to hold onto his once brilliant mind. In warmer weather I often meet turtlesI know on this path, now coveredwith snow. Winter doesn’t matter muchto us anymore. Our Stonehenge folks,who, like us, were Read more

  • Adventure Story

    It’s a good thing we develop a tastefor adventure when we’re young— that urge to plunge across the riverand climb the mountain aheadcomes in handy as we sit in waiting roomsnodding to others who are trekkingthrough the land of needles and drips. It helps to recall the feel of horse hairin your fist when you Read more

  • The Only Way

    Living is the only way to squeeze some mudbetween your toes, to fall down froman apple tree, to wonder whatthe turtle knows, to sing alongin harmony. It’s the only way to leave your phoneon the morning train, to greet your demonswith a grin, to be washed cleanby freezing rain, to taste the salt ofsomeone’s skin. Read more

  • November Mentor

    I don’t know much about gods,but I think the oak tree on our hill might be one. It’s stood for yearswith outstretched arms, sheltering birds, scattering nuts to those in need,and offering shade from the sun to everyone. For longer than we’ve been alive, this treehas been wrestling life from earth and stone, losing limbs Read more

  • Miracles

    Diana says she finds at least threeon her way to the mailbox each day.“Even a spider can knock me out,” she says. As a priest, she may be more open to themthan most of us are, but awe is a muscle,she says. It gets stronger with exercise. So this morning, after turning on a faucet,I Read more

  • Wasp

    A wasp crawls up the windowtoward what it thinks is sky then loses its grip, slips and fallsto the sill, lies still, then gathers itself, turns, and climbstoward sky again. Now I hear Black Elk whisper,Please do not say “it” when referring to Wasp, who isa living being made by the Creator. Wasp, he says, Read more

  • I hoped the dead are up there watchingwhen I read that Paul Cezanne’s portraitof his wife sold for $7.4 million. Paul and his banker father, who scornedhis son’s artistic talent, sittingin comfortable chairs glancing downthrough the glass floor asthe auctioneer’s hammer slamsdown. “Sold for 7.4 million dollars!” Did they reach out and clink wine glassesor Read more

  • Born a God

    You take carenot to step onthe one beeworking the clover one bee wherethere used to beso many then the sun ona just born fawnits mother standing nearasking you to pleasedisappear the osprey criesas she fliesfrom her nest even the bearturns and runsas you near they all scareas they should even from onewho never askedto be Read more

  • Meditation

    So many have come and gone,you’ve lost count.But here you are,still living. It’s best to trust,to stay in patient doubtof what tomorrowwill be giving. If it hasn’t happened yet,it’s not to think about.Sooner or later youlearn everything. Meanwhile, stay rooted as a tree;don’t hypothesize.Live, breathe,applaud the skies. And praise the wayslife tried to make you Read more

  • This Morning I Could

    This morning I couldgo inside, boot up the computer,pay my urologist’s bill,then change the oilin the lawn mower,then drive to the dump(now called the “Transfer Station”)and listen to Travis,who monitors the recycling bins,complain about his life,and then… There’s a lot I could dothis morning,but I think I’ll sit herein the shadewatching the lightslant through the Read more

  • Wellness

    Meanwhile, the world becamea many-headed monster,with snakes for hairand eyes you better avoidor you’ll be turned into stone. William James said wisdomis knowing what to ignore. He meantthe trivial, but today I’m thinkingit’s the eyes of the Gorgon. How manydays in a row can you be appalledwithout hardening? I don’t turn on the news as Read more

  • On a Bus Not Far From Istanbul

    On a bus not far from Istanbulan old man turns to me and says,“You must live like a squirrel!” I am young, and say, “Ok.” He lifts a finger and says,“A squirrel expects nothing morethan life itself. Living is enough for squirrel.” I offer him some nuts. Heshakes his head, pointing tohis toothless mouth. Years Read more

  • Some Day

    Once I’ve learned to be mindful, I won’t belike the others standing in line at the post office annoyed by the delay caused by a malfunctioning printer. Instead I’ll be grateful for this lucky opportunity to practice calmly accepting little glitches in my plans. I won’t be scowling back at the people behind me as Read more

  • Rights of Way

    The animal approaching meon the mountain trackwas trotting at a steady paceand wasn’t turning back. He wore a crown of pointed horns,and a regal robe of white.He showed no sign of slowing down–I was hoping that he might. I’d never heard of mountain goatspushing hikers to their deaths,but the side was steep, he came on,clearly Read more

  • Sounds

    Out walkingin the company of trees you hear a siren wailsomewhere in the world but on this forest trailthough not as loud the blue-winged warbler’s callto your acclimated ear is the more urgent sound. Read more

  • Oh, America

    Land of gold and proud parades,inside every broken housedwells an agitated mouse;—ammo waits in mountain caves. Glitter shines on evening gowns,while self-appointed agents goafter children in the snow;—tax evaders polish crowns. All of Caesar’s beds are warm,as every discontented man,now an avid partisan,sells tickets for the firestorm. Bodies lie along the wall,and little birds with Read more

  • Youth

    Was I Ever 23? If he knockedon the door would Ineed to smile,give him a hug andinvite him in? Should Ifeel close to himjust because we sharethe same birthday? What else do we havein common?Maybe our bones,but his are wrappedin smooth skin,and look at all that hairon his head. Family and friendsstill connect us, it’s Read more

  • Playing god

    First, I gave all living speciesthe ability to speak with each other. You may have already noticedthat now even a routineHow’s your day going ?with a squirrel makesboth of you feel amazing. Now, all of nature’s squeaks,growls, and murmurs, areneighborly complaints about the weather,comments on last night’s moon,or maybe a little gossip. I hope you’ve Read more

  • Requiem

    The body of a molelies curled up in the pathresting meekly on its sidewhere it breathed its last. It seems to beg forgivenessfor being in our wayand maybe causing usa moment of dismay. Its agony (if any)would have gone unheardor forgotten soon enoughby a passing bird. This creature asks for nothing,seeks no sympathyfor a life Read more

  • If the Mind Is a Dragon

    If the mind is a dragonas the poet saysand a dragon is magicis transformationis energyand able to shrink tothe size of a worm andswell tothe space betweenheaven and earth thenyour mind canbreathe inthe words of Li Shang-Yinfloating to youon a breezefrom twelve centuries ago. And ifhis poem saysit’s hard to meetbut even harderto part and Read more

  • Our Dead

    if they aren’t too busy might glance now and thenin our direction… down….or upfrom where they are. You might hear themchuckling as they see us spending so much timeerecting barricades around our egos and running toward (or away from) figments ofour imaginations. Quite amusing…until it’s not and they turnto observe instead of us the life Read more

  • The Optimist

    Squirrel squats at the base of a tree considering possibilities turns. climbs up up runs along a branch hands and feet alive to each bump crack lump squirrel stops looks up then leaps tongue tasting the tang of being airborne then swings into the possibilities of the next tree. Read more

  • Miraculous

    Isn’t it? What’s happening these daysin Nanking, Auschwitzand Wounded Kneeis as normal as anywhere else. And terrifying…Corn is growingin Gettysburg.Morning traffic flowsin Warsaw. Cafes are opentoday in Nagasaki. Luckily for us, curtainsare drawn around the awful.Beetles, mushroomsand grass are summonedto cover things up. Bells ring as usual in villageswhere children were run downby Visigoths on Read more

  • Grief Poem #6

    I dream I’ve just come upa steep sand dune when I see her on the beachtossing a multicolored ball back and forth with friends.My heart sings! I walk along the water’s edgeand there she is again. I go to her and ask,How did you survive? She smiles andshakes her head. Tears of joy—It’s true, she’s Read more

  • I feel your panic little guy!You jump, you leap, you want to fly Out of that barren waste of white,I see why you’re in such a fright! And with me looming in your sky,You must be sure you’re going to die. But, monster though I am to you,I’ve had to jump a time or two. Read more

  • A Kind of Love Poem

    I would say I love youA hundred times a dayBut that old word is too worn outFor all I want to say. I need a word that’s fresh and newLess nibbled on by miceA word that isn’t overusedOr lost its sweet surprise. What I’m feeling isn’t pink,a drugstore Valentine;It’s absolutely rare—unique!Found only in this heart Read more

  • Flying Blind

    It’s a good thingmy mother didn’t know I was out skating aloneon the long pond that night with thin ice rumblingunder my blades I was flying blindtoward a reflected moon the darkness below the icea deeper dark than the sky aboveI soared with the rhythmicscrape, scrape, scrape of steel on frozen waterswooping over the dark Read more

  • I Had a God Once

    I had a god once, long agoIt seemed the thing to do and so I told myself this was the wayuntil my troubled mind said hey this guy doesn’t make much senseand so I sat upon the fence suns came up, clouds went bythe sky above was just the sky I heard the songs, was Read more

  • It’s All About Hope

    isn’t it? I meanthat milkweed seedfloating by onblissful flufflifted by windup and over the roof. The drifting seedseems happy to ignorethe odds against it beingdropped downon open ground where it can poweritself into root, stem,and nourishing leaves, the windblown butterflymust find to keep its kind alive. Read more