Brick Road Poetry Press

...poetry that entertains, amuses, edifies

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Home Drunken Robins by David Oates

About Drunken Robins by David Oates

David OatesDrunken Robins by David Oates

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About the Author

David Oates teaches math and English and hosts Wordland, a public-radio show on WUGA, Athens, devoted to poetry, fiction, and comedy. His own writing has been published in little magazines and newspapers. His previous haiku and senryu collection is Shifting with My Sandwich Hand. Sow’s Ear Press published his short-story and poetry collection Night of the Potato. He has worked as a reporter, and wrote for the comic strip Shoe in the 80’s.

David Oates writes:

This is a collection of favorites from over twenty years’ accumulation of haiku and senryu, mostly written while living in rural Appalachia for 6 years and then Athens, Georgia for 16.  I have tried to follow the precept of catching the crucial details of a moment that struck me, giving those to you without my specific reaction.

I try to make each poem as brief as it reasonably can be, while following the usual practice among the majority of serious haiku practitioners of not focusing on 17 syllables in 3 lines. In following the advice of Basho, I have not tried to write as if I were in medieval Japan, but rather have drawn inspiration from the nature and human nature I see around me. 

Drunken Robins

 

Sample Poems from Drunken Robins by David Oates:

 

mountain farmer tends
the burning field’s margin
scorched boot smell

 

engineering classroom
different colored chalk rectangles
on the light brown ceiling

 

he teaches Logic and Ethics
never picked for jury

 

rushing by the scenic overlook—again

 

older brother, as Easter bunny,
steers the youngest towards eggs
as the middle fills her basket

 

little boy sleeps with a smile
bulldozer dream

 

the sight of home’s hills
after a week at the beach
first swallow of wine

 


rusty old car
decorated today—
“JUST MARRIED”

 

 

gray dawn,
motion-detecting porch light
flicks on       
as a catbird hops

 

 

after miscarriage
against the wall
a new crib  

 

 

Times Square
mud puddle
flashing

 


the poet conjures angels
in a rolling voice—
his dog loudly, steadily,
licks herself

 

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