Gary Beck


Confined to....


Long tired of pandering

to avarice,



I sought a change

and thinking

to escape entombment

in a civilized clime,

I forgot, renounced, buried

hopes, dreams, ambitions

for other gains.

I became a panther

in a gilded cage

and paced

furious, desperate, snarling

from wall to wall,

found no release

and became a plant,

choked by the shade.



Last Flight


The cabin crew,

calm and resolute,

watches while the pressure fails

and the passengers,

camera-clad tourists,

gasp for air

when the automatic oxygen containers

don’t open automatically.


This is the captain speaking:

“Due to engine failure

we are forced to land

in the ocean.

Do not panic.

I repeat.

Do not panic.

The cabin crew will help you into life rafts.

There is no need for alarm.

Follow the instructions of the flight attendant.”


One bottle of tourist rum,

label peeling,

floats on the concealing sea





Your altar is tended with crumbling fingers,

o lost idol of ancient pillars,

that invoke nameless victims

bereft of passion,

stained with old blood,

in the formless midnights of remembrance.

I pass your dark doorstep of ungreeting,

coursing a madness of timeless hunger,

the dark wanderer of dreary yearning,

trapped in a tattered raincoat.




More poems by Gary Beck


Sentinel Poetry (Online) #41

INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF POETRY & GRAPHICS...Since 2002     ISSN 1479-425X     April 2006

Editor: Amatoristero Ede

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