Friday, June 19, 2020




Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: .LET THIS BE THE RAIN. :: 2007

Friday, June 5, 2020

A Morning Among These Days

As a morning among these days ends,

a few blocks from our home
a peaceful protest march begins and ends.

As friends and neighbors march,
we stay home to mourn
a sudden, profound grief for loss of a friend.

News of death came unanticipated as we celebrated.
Separate but included,
we participated in a grandson's Continuance
from his 8th grade to high school.

Before this joy 

(and for a third time in three days)
we awoke to a joy: 
news of a newborn among friends and family.

then joy 
then mourning.

(Half of one day.)

A morning among these days has ended.

A Morning Among These Days 
Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: A Morning Among These Days :: 2006

Saturday, May 30, 2020

Where is the Way?

An innocent man, Mr. George Floyd:
murdered by someone sworn to protect.
An old-old pharmacy called Lloyd's:
(where I shopped as a kid and once stole a Coca-Cola)
burnt to the ground.
A healthy baby is born
not far from where a virus patient has died.
A seed sprouts.
A beautiful, small bird nibbles at the feeder
as I grieve for the smaller and the larger community
into which I was born.
Family and friends grieve for their innocent loved one.
They are angry.
Angry neighbors protest and march, but ...
Near and distant strangers protest and march, but ...
Two astronauts get to orbit, but ...
They and their families feel proud and relieved, but ...
A grieving nation seeks a sliver of space
a sliver of time to feel good.
New parents can only rejoice.
They do rejoice, but ...
A family tries to grieve together, alone, but ...
A gardener sees the sprout
but feels drained of all power to rejoice.
Everywhere, a smile feels irreverent.
A tear barely dampens the mask.
Exercise fails to exorcise.
Sleep brings no more than another day.
Where is the way?
Where is the way?
Where is the way? 

Where is the Way?  
Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: Where is the Way? :: 2005

Is This a True Spring?

A little drizzle, some sun;
a little rain, a rainbow, some thunder;
the fertile aroma of green.
Here, where plains meet the Front Range,
is this a true spring that comes to replace
our annual war between winter and summer?
Should I refuse to enjoy the gift?
It may be Global Warming trying to buy my vote.
Or, perhaps I should not look to find conspiracy.
Indeed, this may be but a random gift of nature
given here only once or twice in a lifetime.
As I take another deep breath,
I live to believe the latter.

Is This a True Spring?
Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: Is This a True Spring? :: 2004

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Humid Morning on Arid Land

Is this that now hovers
the awaited rain
that will soon descend
to draw our thirst
before refreshment comes to ground?

Or is this no more than past rain that rises
and lingers a while to taunt our thirst
before our fertility departs? 

Humid Morning on Arid Land
Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: Humid Morning On Arid Land :: ,8004

Sunday, May 24, 2020


on glare ice flourish

           —if on skates


           —if in shoes

die there

           —on bare feet

ice or snow

sand or rock

moss or grass

pavement, man-made

oh, groundplain, hold us

           —if well shod—

and blame footwear for each fall

Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: Footwear :: 2005


Energy begat matter.
Matter begat life.
Life begat knowledge.
Knowledge begat culture.
Then culture begat.

Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020 :: Begat :: ,8001

Sunday, April 26, 2020


11:59PM, April twenty-fifth, 2020 
From playing bridge with you on the web, 
to reading the Life of Mahatma Gandhi with you 
     and watching a fun movie,
to our conversation over sprouting clover, 
to our socially distanced beverage-and-snack around the patio, 
to my shouts and your responses across the street, 
to our digital exchanges, 
to our greetings and smiles as you passed by, 
I had a great day today.
(if you can identify)
hug yourself 
and accept this humble "thank you." 

Bob Komives
::  Fort Collins © 2020  ::  11:59  ::  2004  ::

Saturday, April 25, 2020


Yesterday's easy task,
—a bother to do—
—important to do—
remains undone.
Yesterday's task,
—yet more difficult today—
—yet more important tomorrow—
Task has grown.
I have withered.

Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2012 :: Ganas :: 0704

Moment of Exception

'tis useless to feel useless,
not helpful to feel helpless,
ever more weakening to feel powerless,
spineless to cast blame.
Yet is it not healthful to allow this moment of exception?
I listen in isolation as people I do not know die
isolated from those who do know and love them.
I read of others (too-distant to be neighbors) 
now torn apart then cast together by a tornado.
I watch a tragic movie, 'Planet of the Humans'
feeling useless, helpless, 
powerless--except to cast blame.
Moment of Exception
Bob Komives 
::  Fort Collins © 2020  ::  Moment of Exception  ::  2003  ::

Monday, April 6, 2020


Your hands are already longer.
In not long,
you too will be the stronger.
I look forward
to when you help me understand
later news,
and, perhaps,
to when you craft something so good
of paper or wood
that our good names belong
there inscribed,
until whenever,
or until no longer
never far apart. 

Bob Komives

  ::  Fort Collins © 2020  :: Generation  ::  2002  ::

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

When I Need a Visitor

When I need a visitor:

     By day,

     by season,

     with no qualm

     no hesitation,

     with license from all authority,

sun comes into my home

to play a play that gives me joy.


When I Need a Visitor
Bob Komives

Fort Collins © 2020  :: When I Need a Visitor  ::  2001

Wednesday, July 24, 2019

Immigrants' Faint Footnote

three of my 4 grandparents were immigrants.
(the 4th, was son of fathers to the American Revolution)
one of the 3 came as a baby.
(When she contracted fever aboard ship, her immigrant mother stopped others from throwing her into the sea.)
one came as 1 of 3 girls to be bride to 1 of 3 brothers 
(not knowing which with which).
that one-of-three brothers had come earlier to an Illinois steel mill.
(The mill is gone, but a safety manual for this unsafe workplace survives to be read in his Hungarian, as well as in Slovenian, Romanian and tongues of other workmates.)
Immigrants' Faint Footnote
Bob Komives

two of 2 of my sons-in-law were born far from North America.
two of 5 of my grandchildren were born far from North America. 

three grandchildren,
two sons-in-law,
both of my children, 
two of my immigrant grandparents, and their
one son (my father) mastered tongues other than English in childhood.

            More important: 
My story-by-numbers is  faint footnote to your own. 

Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2019 :: Immigrants' Faint Footnote :: 1902