ISSN 1556-4975

OffCourse Literary Journal

 Published by Ricardo and Isabel Nirenberg since 1998


Three Poems by George Freek



Swallows rise in the air.
They seem to go nowhere.
Then disappear, as if
they'd never been here.
I feel the weight
of fate, as if some god
was once in this room,
but has gone away,
and left it a sterile place.
As I sip a cup of tea,
rain whispers a somber song
among the dying leaves.
The eyes of the moon
are cold and grim,
as they stare at me.




A cat crouches in dead tulips,
staring at a robin,
who's eyeing a fat worm.
The wind comes as fast
as a trumpet blast,
and the cat loses his chance.
A starling outflanks the robin
to steal the prize.
The robin despairs
with nothing for his efforts.
The cat looks at both,
with melancholy eyes;
He knows what it is to grow old.
Night arrives in tight shoes,
with aching bones.
I gaze at my garden.
It is full of crumbling stones.
This is my life. No man
should have to live alone.




My life has broken into pieces.
My wife is no longer alive.
I walk in circles. It doesn't matter
where I go. Darkness
smothers me like a pillow.
That is all I know.
Snow rims the pond's edge,
creeping toward its heart.
Still drunk from last night,
I wade into the freezing water.
I'm reaching for the moon,
fallen from the sky.
It's right before my eyes.
I'll embrace it one more time.
Then I can also die.


George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Illinois. His poems have recently appeared in The Able Muse, Dewpoint Journal, The New Plains Review, The Stillwater Review, The Foliate Oak, Hamilton Stone Review, The Lake and The Tower Journal. His plays are published by Playscripts, Inc., Lazy Bee Scripts and Off The Wall Plays. His work has appeared several times in Offcourse.

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