Poems by Henry Muller

The Iron Horse

churning and clankingsteaming and smokingthe mighty metal snakelurches forth across the world.

it carries dreams and hopepain and forgivenessfear, love, and loathingout into the unincorporated void.

(You see, this was once the only way to travel.)

every so oftenthis gigantic behemoth will pull into a rarestation, and the men and women inside will pileout like rats from a sewer.

(They carry with them their hopes and dreams,hate and anger,and everything else that makes America America.)

and the train chugs and bellows on across the world.

The Iron Horse II

churning and clankingsteaming and smokingthe mighty metal snakelurches out across the world.

its wheels turningits fires roaringthe locomotive chugs and hissesout into the void.

the iron horse carries peopleof all ages, shapes, and sizesof all backgrounds and beliefsall the people that make upour country.

they carry with themtheir ideas and religionstheir hopes and dreamsall encased within the trainthat chugs on and on across the unincorporated void.

when the train stops…the people pile out andbegin!

Mungee

Mungee was a piece of gum.He was chewed on all day long.Mungee enjoyed being munched.But then his life went oh-so-wrong.

Someone spit wee Mungee out.He landed on the cold hard ground.Mungee felt small and alone.But by a dog he was then found.

The dog slurped Mungee down in one.Mungee thought it was the end.But then he entered Rover’s stomach.And Mungee made some brand-new friends.

Like Apple Core and Stinky Cheese.They welcomed Mungee to their lot.“But,” they warned, “our Rover’s gassy,and out his rear you might be shot!”

True to these words, dear Rover popped.Mungee went flying through the air.He zipped and zoomed and then he fellright into a woman’s hair.

Mungee rode around a while‘till his ride looked in a mirror.“There’s gum on me!” she loudly shrieked.Mungee became filled with fear.

The woman plucked poor Mungee offher enormous beehive of hair.She stuck him to a big brick walland there sat Mungee without care.

Then a little boy walked up.No more than three or four.He stared at Mungee on the wallnot walking anymore.

The tiny tot reached out a hand.

He yanked Mungee off the wall.And then the little child tossedMungee into his maw.

Mungee was chewed once again.At peace and rest at last.And I think we can agreeMungee had had a blast.

Page 224 of The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: All Words Over Four Letters Removed

The in the Rye

was over, the and the way it is in the How you know you a The is, you I’m not too sure old knew what the hell I was I mean she’s only a and all. But she was at If at it’s not too bad. to kill you. He’s to kill you”, she said. I I was else — “You know what I’d like to be?” I said. “You know what I’d like to be? I mean if I had my “What? Stop “You know that song ‘If a body a body the rye’? I’d like—” “It’s ‘If a body meet a body the rye’!” old said. “It’s a poem. By “I know it’s a poem by She was It is “If a body meet a body the rye.” I know it then, “I was ‘If a body a body,’” I said. I keep all kids some game in this big of rye and all. of kids, and big, I mean— me. And I’m on the edge of some cliff. What I have to do, I have to if they to go over the I mean if and they don’t look I have to come out

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The Watchers

the ants scurry oneyes forward, legs backfocusednever watchingunlike the watchersthey sit by the sidesome leglesssome eyelessand they sitand they waitfor help that will not come.and the ants scurry on,eyes forward legs back—the watchers watching them.

and occasionally one will pauseand speak to a watcherand return to the road once more.

Moss

mosson a treein the forest

it clings to the barkdappled by light

rained uponsnowed uponhailed uponblown by thewind

snakes glide beneath itbirds glide above it

and the moss just sitsand stays

on a tree

in the forest

Snow

I haveonly seen snow oncein my life,when I was very young.I remember almost nothingabout the experienceexcept that the snowwasn’t like the kindI had read about in books,powder-soft,but hard-packed and icy.I was slightly disappointed.My younger sisterclaims to have seen snow once,on Valentine’s Day 2008,a few flakes drifting through the schoolyard.I wouldn’t know.I was taking a test at the time.I suppose I am luckythat I have never suffered the worse side effects of snow,that I live in California.But still every winter,I sit and wait,hopingfor snowto fall.

Three Quiet Acrostics

So long, soundI’ll miss you when you’re goneLaughter will be for-Ever gone to meNo one can hear what I have to sayCauseEverything has gone silent

Slimily slipping throughNice, green grassA small snailInspects theLand

Delicately perched on theEdge of aWeed, itDrips onto theRocksOn thePlown field.

Creamed Spinach

It’s oh-so-yummy and super-duper-gummy, creamed spinach rocks my world.With a plop-plop-plop it drops into my tummy, creamed spinach rocks my world.I love to scoop it up and stuff it it down my throat, creamed spinach rocks my world.Yes, this slimy green delight really floats my boat, creamed spinach rocks my world.

Hopping to the table asking Mom for some more, creamed spinach rocks my world.I think that I’ll go sell some in a spinach store, creamed spinach rocks my world.When I sleep dreams of creamed spinach float through my head, creamed spinach rocks my world.I’ll eat and eat and eat it even when I’m dead, creamed spinach rocks my world.

Farm Haikus

A rusty fence beamDripping with soft rain, it isLost out in the cold

The little frog croaksA tuneless bellow, hoppingThrough nail-strewn dirt.

The bloated old pigBelches out a dusty oink.The wind is coming.

Rivulets of rainTrickle down a red tractor.They cut through the dust.

Storm

The white picket fenceswaying in a breeze that camesuddenly, it seemed.

Fingers of cold, reaching throughthe barn door. Cows are afraid.

A little frog croakshis tuneless bellow, hoppingthrough nail-strewn dirt.

A storm on the horizon--let’s just hope it’s not too bad.

The fat old hog staresinto the windy fields - he’s seen storms before.

Cloudburst! Raindrops plummet downfrom the sky, striking the ground.

A lone gopher pullshis head back into his hole.The rain is too much.

Little puddles on the dirtform as the rain plummets down.

The cows moo and moo.Storms are scary to them, andits end is unknown.

A trench fills up with water.Pond scum and froglets flourish.

A squirrel in a treeducks behind a large pinecone.When will the storm end?

Water bubbles up aroundthe barn’s foundations, slowly.

A horse stamps its feet.All the animals are worried.Where is the farmer?

He is asleep, snoring inbed. Wake up, you idiot!

The barn starts to sway.The wind is picking up now.Mooing fills the air.

All the creatures on the farmare stamping their feet at once.

Lightning strikes the ground.Even the hog hasn’t seenthis. What to do now?Lightning strikes again, crushinga weathervane on the barn.

The cows feel it,deep inside the barn. They moo.It’ll never help.

Water hisses down the sidesof the big, big old red barn.

And the frog croaks on,in his hole beneath the dirt.A nail falls in.

The farmer turns over inhis sleep. He still won’t wake up.

Squirrel drops his pinecone.It hits the ground far below.Lightning hits it--crunch.

The rain falls harder now. Itforms small rivers in the ground.

Rivulets of rain

trickle down a red tractor.They cut through the dust.

More cows mooing in the barn.They are terrified to death.

The farm has neverseen a storm this bad, ever.What to do? What now?

Just then, something strange happens.The barn comes loose from the ground.

Water has risento flow around the red barn.What will happen next?

It’s like something out of acrazy low-budget movie.A gushing riverpours through the farm and sweeps thebarn away, quickly.

So much water flowing throughthe farm, it’s quite amazing!

The cows stop mooing.This is completely brand-new,being on a wave.

The frog pokes his head out ofhis hole, hops after the barn.

The farmer wakes up.He looks out the window, seeshis barn floating by.

“Bad dream,” mumbles the farmer.He goes back to sleep, silently.

Shadows

Little things dance in the shadows.Small creatures, born of mist and smokethey frenzy they caper

The moonlight is aching.The grass burns beneathrabbits run rampant

A man in a straitjacket screams.I have no ideais what it is

Everything falls sideways.Turning, it twiststhe end is near

What is Up

What is upand down is down.

Smile is faceand laugh is frown.

Glue is tautand train is teach.

Flat is thinjust out of reach.

Tree is gumand grass is free.

Pain is thickand woe is me.