Caging the Minotaur

Minotaur

—Poems by JD DeHart, Chattanooga, TN
—Anonymous Illustrations

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.


(prev. pub. at Red River Review)

 (It's "labyrinth", JD)

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.


(prev. pub. at Poems and Poetry Blog)

________________

LEGEND OF JOHN RAMM

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.


(prev. pub. at Squawk Back)

LIKE RAMMS AT PLAY

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.


(prev. pub. at Venus in Scorpio)

__________________

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 could read
books, but he's just a wild
animal, after all.


(prev. pub. at Venus in Scorpio)

THE WEDDING OF JOHN RAMM

Two antlers decorated
the top of the cake like
a taxidermist's confection

They are not sure
if they should leave the veil
on the bride, as tradition
dictates, or drape it across
his wide brow

Truthfully, he stands, hands
planted at his sides like oaks,
hooves glued to one spot,
unsure of how to behave
in the promenade.

____________________

THE BALLAD OF JOHN RAMM

Munching twigs, scenting
the air, hidden in a thicket
of leaves, brambles, thorns,
agile feet take him to flight
but not soon enough

Hailing a cab, trying to make
his way to work, he remembers
distantly what it was like to be
in the wild, but that was so long
ago, it seems like a different
animal lived then

While others preen, he pummels
While others rant, he rams.


(prev. pub. at VerseWrights)

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.


(prev. pub. at Eye On Life Magazine)
 
____________________

WHAT PLATO SAID TO SOCRATES

He has to know they’ll never
understand, yet he keeps talking—
Why does he keep trying?
Doesn’t he care about me at all?
They’re all too buried deep in caverns,
listening to their juicy music,
thinking about how to earn money
or get into bed with each other,
and he’s going on about the truth.
Dig deep, he tells them, and they look
at him like, We don’t have shovels, dude.
If it’s in them, I don’t see it.
What I see is the mob, the gulp of poison,
then me—aimless wanderer, the guy
strolling around saying, Remember when
he used to teach us?
Remember that?  They probably won’t.


(prev. pub. at Eye On Life Magazine)  

_______________________
 

Today’s LittleNip:

GRANDFATHER

—JD DeHart

We installed rollers to make the movement simple
Daily, we took notice of his toenails
Their thickness or thinness, their shade
We kept the results in a journal
While he told us stories of his youth
The family nodded and read his diagnostics.


(prev. pub. at Montucky Review)

______________________

—Medusa, with thanks to JD DeHart for these wonderful contributions to the Kitchen today!

 Celebrate poetry!

Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.