Playing Until Dark: Selected Poems 1995-2013

By John R. Alberts

Inside, find poems of bubbling enthusiasm, deight in each day's exciting promises and delightful surprises a you join him "playing until dark. Mr. Alberts performs professionally throughout Michigan, in venues such as Milliken Auditorium in Traverse City, and the famous Scarab Club in Detroit. His published poems are read in the Dunes Review, Controlled Burn, Voices of Michigan and the Detroit Free Press Sunday magazine. He and his wife Raechel dwell along the South Arm of Lake Charlevoix in Northern Michigan

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491811566

John R. Alberts

Professional performance poetry performances at The nationally registered historic site, The Scarab Club in Detroit, Michigan and twice professionally at the Milliken Auditorium in Traverse City, Michigan and print publication inThe Dunes Review, Controlled Burn, and the Detroit Free Press Sunday Magazine encouraged Mr. Alberts to publish a volume of his selected poems. Mr. Alberts enjoys an on-going career of performing with nationally know Jazz artists at gatherings around norhtern michigan as well as performing solo for charity and cultural support events in the Charlevix Michigan area. Concluding a long career of public service as a cultural arts chairman for the city of Pomona, California he returned to his birth state, Michigan where he connects with performing groups and individuals to add to them his wordsmithing.

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© 2013 by John R. Alberts. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/21/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1155-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1156-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914982

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Production                  Jeff Haas

Recording Engineer   Jack Conners

Musicians;

         Acoustic Bass Jack Dryden

         Trumpet Chris Lawrence

         Tenor Sax, Soprano Sax, Flute Laurie Sears

Poetry John R. Alberts

Contents

Where It Was

Wanting Grace

I am the Cat

I Saw the Boy, Ray Bradbury, Today

New Books

The Recital, for Sarah

You Will Need a Pencil Today

Taking the Poets Away

Bacon ’n Eggs

Saginaw

At The Joe Berlin Dance Studio

In Over Our Heads Again at the Honey Bucket

The Dark Train Snorter

Riffin’

Full of Spaghetti

Rythm Beats the Hell Out of Me

T*H*E F*A*B*U*L*O*U*S F*I*V*E B*A*N*A*N*A*S!

Obbligato Dogs

My Hollywood Career

Are You the Breathless Hush of Evening?

Marriage

The Nostalgia Trick

Wanting You

Ribbing

Sweet Teeth

Getting Inside Marlene Dietrich’s Typewriter

I Enter the Mind of Frank Sinatra

Queen Anne Airs Her Linens

War Games

Afloat In God’s Rowboat

Chevy Man

The Job

Inheritance

Office Party

Negative Gain

Dommage, Ma Cher Duncan

Reunion

Hospital Visit

Big Dipper at Seventy-Six

Memos to Myself

Playing Until Dark

Voice Mail

Annie-I-Over

At Winter Solstice

Ascending

I’m Taking The Dream Express

The Old Guy Dresses for the Funeral

Looking Back

At the End, Mary struggles to Recall the Old Guy’s Rant to Her to Her Fellow Kindergartners Ninety Years Ago

The Old Ball Game

Brief Instructions for Going Back Home

Thank You

Acknowledgements

Playing Until Dark

About the Author

For Raechel Alberts

Faith Abundant

"The ball I threw while playing in the park

Has not yet touched the ground."

Should Lanterns Shine

Dylan Thomas

Where It Was

Quiet. Then Bobbie and I following Each others lips, not daring voice, mouthed Aeroplane. Aeroplane in 1934 in the North where we didn’t even have any airports. Running, running before we even knew we ran. Running, faces skyward. Running, falling, running, to sight the only plane we might ever see…

. . . there!

. . . escaping the upper branches of Old Man Bradford’s backyard Elm and in the clear now, we, running, chasing, rattling up the ragged line of fence, a ladder for our feet to climb then mount the slanted shed roof and caps waving and standing at the peak, caps waving, shouting, jumping, as high as boys who need to fly can jump, and did