Friday, September 28, 2012

Never More

This is a response to the Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads challenge. What a early fright.

(as an old friend says of Poe, rhyme is not a crime!)

Never More

In the thin place,
where Poe was lain,
between the naming stones,
we propped his book
for a photo opp,
beside the final tomb.
Then the rain fell hard;
its needles sharp
stitched us 'tween
there and here,
in the thin green place
where Edgar lay
beneath the sodden bier.
We could not move,
we could not run,
then came a fearsome sound,
and the lightning hit,
and the curtain ripped,
and the book fell
through the ground.
Then just as quick,
the sun was back
and all was as before,
except that bones now
trace his words
and whisper, "Nevermore."

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Ordinary Time

Ordinary Time

It's Ordinary Time,
when grasses sway in the light

of a day so white,
you almost close your eyes,

when the sound of mowers
mowing hay is the only way,

besides the sweetish smell,
to read September's hue.

Green goes into yellow
and already you forget

the feel of summer blue.

It's Ordinary Time,
and drowsy noon

against the mellow light
holds you so still

that Autumn's chill remains
A distant dream away.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Bogeyman Blues

Bogeyman Blues

No prophet, I,
I'm a dresser of trees,
A pruner of blight;
A sniffer of disease.
Hide in upstairs rooms,
Shake the dust
From my shoes,
Send me forth with the word:
I'm the Bogeyman Blues.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Optics of Light (It's a Poem to Me)

Photo from flickr

Poem for my husband who questioned first

Visit Poets United (on my blogroll) for other poems about webs.

Optics of Light
(It's a Poem to Me)

What is that, he said,
In the sky over there?
It's a leaf in a web,
Floating high on the air.
What is it, she said,
What is it I see?
Just a web holding on
To a leaf from the tree.
What is it, they said,
Hanging over our heads?
It's a leaf; it's a tree.
(It's a story to me.)
It's a web that was spun
From a dream of the sun.
It's a chrysalis snug
It's a dream; it's a hug.
It's a wing; it's a swing.
It's a marvelous thing!
It's a leaf from the tree.
(It's a poem to me.)