My recollections are grifters, dragonflies glazing
glacier springs, skimming over unforgotten lands,
fleeing my inept hands that so long to just once snatch
that fragility, but those filigree wings raze the heart.
Recollections can be Mercurochrome whims
that heal with stings and then leave stains.
Are such things a balm and do they enflame?
Grifters all, those yesteryears and their sly charms,
That shift alarms and then zero in for the kill.
Dragonflies soar through my dreams like they did
at the cottage we rented the summer I turned twelve,
before my mother changed, became ill.
Glazing the lake, the sun seemed lower there.
Glacier cubes, little ones, would click against
cups that held lemonade, but I had a secret.
Springs hid in a forest nearby, so I would trek
through woods to sip water so pure
that I was Bernadette in Lourdes.
Skimming stones over the lake, trying to
count past two, I never succeeded.
Over and over, I would try to wake the
Mystical Lady beneath the reeds.
Unforgotten are those days.
Lands of soft green are now gold.
Fleeing memories can’t be done.
My childhood is a menagerie of tales untold.
Inept are these words as I scribble moments
that ate melting Raisinets as the sun set.
Hands, much smaller, now flutter in mine.
That and this, she commands, and asks why
the man in the moon wants to hide.
So, I watch the magic in her unfold,
like that spring and that child from decades ago.
Long is the growing process, but short are days.
To remember those firefly evenings is to forgive,
And those campfires sparked more than conversation.
Just once, though, I wish I could forget the rest.
Snatch that gawky girl and return her to enchantment.
Fragility deserves a second chance to sing with crickets.
But those hours are gone, and the ones I now live in
are driven by the compulsion to nurture.
Filigree wings worn by a tot remind me of journeys and
how time’s narrow portal opens only to close.
Raze I will that autumn and its mad, destructive chill
and I will protect one serendipitous season.
The heart we are given can be filled with such love that the
maternal trickles its way down to a girl studying dragonflies and
we hop on a boulder to sit with our former selves
shoulder to happy shoulder.
*For Debbie Guzzi's Et Cetera Contest.
My Son Moon and Star ~
Approaching the celebration of his Birth
cherishing the gift I received
within weeks of conception I knew
something amazing was in Creation ~
the Stars held a party
sending me with one of their own
Gazing at 3 shooting stars twinkling crossing the sky
It was magic It was destiny taking its flight.
In love with an October full moon
drawing and painting I liked
thinking of Vincent Van Gogh ~
caught in a loss of time
Hours going by as choosing my color
a wittness to three falling stars
A clear night sky sparkle's
A once Famous Star was sent
inspiring the tiny child inside ~
Never a doubt in my mind at all
child bearing was worth any pain received
yours will be in a pursuit of a dream ~
one to cherish and hold
My Son was born the following August ~
working on the set of Grimm 3rd season this year
as the set of Leverage for 3 years .
Has done a Indie movie here
In Paris it was seen and honored
coming soon filmed in Portland ~
"The House of Last Things "
awaiting the credits , you will see
1st Assistant Director ~ production assistant
My Young Lion Mans dream ~
A proud mom I watch every show and the credits
as foretold in a whisper to me 25 years ago
My Son & Moon and Star
A name you will all know ~
Happy Birthday to my creative Son
you will exist in my heart forever~
I awoke this morning, before Dawns early light; the Sunshine still slept.
I took my coffee cup, out on the porch, and for “Lenore” I Finally wept.
The pain, the agony, years of grief: rolled down my cheeks: My Soul’s Relief.
A single ray of sunshine over the majestic purple mountains peak, peeks.
Out of this single ray of light, my Heartbeat; my Soul “ LENORE “ speaks.
“ My Dearest and Only Beloved ; I’m sorry I left, upon our Everlasting Day.
I’ll sing to you My final Poem, before OUR Heavenly Father; bids Me to stay
I remember every Rhyme, YOU wrote For ME : Lets memorize each TIME.
GOD grants US togetherness : “ LENORE, Lets make this HOUR, OURS.
LENORE and I shared Memories, OUR POETRY : many of OUR HOURS
As I came back, from this Adventure, the morning Sun was smiling at ME.
Atop the Mighty Purple Mountain he had climbed ; I was not There to SEE.
With eyes now wider opened, I watch the warmth of the SUN racing at ME.
I feel the wind the warmth flies in on, Flowing through my Grey White Beard
I Smell the flowers growing; I see the mighty OAK Limbs wave; WEIRD.
I must Retrain my senses; To see, hear, feel : TO WRITE!! My FRIENDS
Relearn the Basic laws of Truth and LIFE and LOVE and FEELING.
Must Retrain my hands to write of The Beauty of Mother Earth! My FAMILY
I have to Study very Hard, my Contemporaries , to quicken the HEALING.
Then I can Write, to the ones I love; They teach me Everything THE POETS
Wish it wasn't so cold around here
Wish I could stand up sometimes
Wish I had somewhere to go
Drowning myself to sleep with emo music
Wish you were near me
Wish I knew who you are
Wish I could see your eyes for a while
Dreaming in black and white every night
The sun goes down again
End of the act, see you idiots tommorrow
Hide in the darkness
Warm, comfy shelter
The day is gone again
Another time I can't be broken
I pull the strings here, in black and white
Curl up and cry for tonight
The sun goes down again
And you emerge from its ashes
Look at me now, in black and white
'cause colors hurt
Wish I could look at the sun
Without my eyes burning up
Wish you were here
Without your hands cutting mine
But I just sleep every night
Dreaming in black and white...
I know its the summer time because of how naturally
Your beauty compliments the caress of a summer breeze
As I watch the world from beneath a shady tree
I take in the delightful comfort of everything I see
But in the same breath I am holding up my hands
Lord will you please give me back the things I no longer have
They are even more a part of me now that they are gone
As the sun falls below where the horizon is still holding on
Somewhere between the falling light and a star lit night
Is a dream that last forever and will never say goodbye
As the wind gently blows through the brush and shakes the leaves
It begins to hum a melody that I want to sing
At that very moment I smile for all the joy I have
Its so uplifting for me to see melancholy dance
Soon the morning sun will rise and capture my eyes
As I watch the hand of God paint a brand new sky
With every stroke of color I swallow all my pride
And I find a new place to dream of endless times
If I should ever get to the place I left my broken heart
Only then will I believe this brand new day will start
Again Im reminded of why my heart beats so restlessly
Only the speed of thought and my soul beneath this tree
Having wonderful summer memory
it warms our hearts long
Summer memories that we can bring back
on the cold windy autumn evenings
Summer memories we can dream of when
snow falls during the winter
It will warm our hearts in front of the fireplace
on a cold winter night
Summer memories is a new journey
when one thinks back
Yes, we can almost feel the sun warm and the
smell of beautiful flowers
Close your eyes......running barefoot in
a meadow of timothy
Watch the sunset..... sun bathing in the sea
Yes, it was quite a summer
After the fall, winter and spring comes summer
again and we can create new memories
that we will take good care of
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Water lapping at edge of the boat beneath the silence of the sky
Swaying branches of mopane trees and fish eagles cry
Wind of changing seasons and melting palates of hue
in the blood red sunset glow and murky silvery water blue
Elephants in numbers dot the shores
hippo’s and crocodiles are at the core
of many memories and visions of old
Lake Kariba, in land sea
full of tiger fish and bream
The endless blue that roles into the distance
where the sun rises and falls in panoramic vista
The skeletons of petrified monuments scattered in the sea
forests of pre historic trees swaying in the breeze
It wasn’t always peaceful, tranquil, and still
nature has no chance to relax and withdraw
Scheming and dreaming in the depths of men’s mind
Up Up Up goes the building and climbs
Man made dam, Damn big problem
How could this feet of engineering the power of ages old be so easy
to tame such a wild beast as the zambezi
POURING OUT THE CONCERT
RAMMING THE RODS OF STEEL
DRIVING THE WATER BACK INTO THE HILLS
HOWEVER, THE RIVER REFUSED TO YEILD
THE WALL BEGAN TO TIP, BUCKLE, AND KEEL
NOT ONCE, TWICE, WATER MARCHED THROUGH
LIKE A FACELESS WARRIORS, DESTROYING THE BARRIER
THE FORCE OF THE RIVER WOULD NOT BE SUBDUED
LIKE ALL NATURAL EVENTS, THE WAVES BEGAN TO SUBSIDE
THE SOLDIERS OF BLUE WITHDREW
UP WENT THE WALL, COMPLETED, IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME
Animals and people lost in the rising tide
from river, to dam, to lake to inland sea
Great and panoramic became the horizon wide
Like a whisper on the edge of wind
was a grand concert of ages gone by
Played out by wildlife, land, water, and sky
A harmonic existence of sublime serenity
Life here brings closure to one’s perspective
the sent of dust and adventure is quiet infective
The place of the skeleton trees, mountain passes, and copper sun still
where the stars in the universe, scatterings like lost thoughts, visions, and chants chill
across the forging path, that strides through this african wilderness blue
Lake Kariba, the artery of the north, run straight, run true.
Bronze, silver and gold
Caught in the sun so light
The momentous reveal of every fight
Wishes we are never told
Caught in the sun so light
Bronze faces contrite
Wishes we are never told
Faces much too bold
Bronze faces contrite
Compared to crinkled green notes
Wishes we are never told
Compared to crinkled green notes
The momentous reveal of every fight
Bronze, silver and gold
I watched the old man mosey to his favorite fishing spot.
Ahead of him his faithful dog capered at a lively trot.
No fancy fishing lures for him, just a simple bamboo pole,
And a can of worms as content he seemed in heart and soul!
Settling in the welcome shade of a spreading oak,
He lit his pipe for a pleasurable afternoon smoke.
His old dog lay contentedly at the old man's feet.
What a life! How could it be any more complete!
At fishing the old fellow was extremely deft.
Why, he was pulling them in right and left!
With all the expensive lures that I had at hand,
Not one consarned fish did I ever land!
As the sun waned he lay back and took off his shoes,
To savor his usual afternoon snooze.
Imagine my dismay as his bobber danced about!
(Why can't I reel in some of those wily trout?)
As the sun settled in the west he called it a day.
(Alas, I still hadn't had a nibble, I must say!)
He waved asking, "How's your fishin' luck been?"
"Not a bite" I replied, much to my chagrin!
Placed No. 1 in Paula Swanson's "The Allure Of A Lure Is Alluring" Contest - Apr 2012
I love you in spring…
When the sun kiss the dew upon virgin grass
When robins build their nests high up in tall trees
And soft rain quenches the thirst of the rich, black earth
Making music with watering cans on the patio floor
That lulled us into slumber on lazy Sunday afternoons
I love you in summer…
When surf dances atop playful, swelling waves
Its wild and loud roars drowns out carefree laughter
And mimicks our frolicking beneath the blazing sun
Inviting us to share warm nights beneath dazzling stars
Wrapped as one, gazing the moon in the southern sky
I love you in autumn…
When brisk winds hurry to undress proud elms
When casual walks and a fire signals the end of day
In love, we never notice the fading sun light
Then comes the day when ‘jealous fate’ interferes
And time swallows the many years we’ve been apart
Soon, winter comes and I will love you still…
When frigid weather lingers long and chills the bones
Can lovers’ hearts call through corridors of time?
Perhaps, deepest love dissolves invisible walls?
At last, you’ll find me here, somewhere in between
And who knows, it may be like we never said good bye
I do not know?
So sweet the seasons sounds,
That makes for those summer days.
Skies make for a back drop of hues of blue,
Sweet mowing grass now sheared as hay.
Upon my face the beads of perspiration,
As I wipe my fevered brow.
The days now long as I swing forth the scythe,
High above the sun beats down.
A shout breaks my concentration,
For it is Mary who is my love.
Under a large oak tree she shelters,
Truly a pure vision from above.
For with her a wicker basket,
Its contents now lay out before.
She beckons me come forward,
Asl my senses cry out for more.
In her tender arms my head gently lies,
Beneath a canopy of green.
Dappled sun light highlights her flowing hair,
For the world id trade, for these moments gleaned.
©N . Windle. 2009
In the city,
The sun often wears a veil of grey mourning,
Woven of smog and dust.
In the evening,
The stars retreat from the lights
Of the city far below.
Far from the city,
I walk the beach, sun hot on my skin.
Waves wash cool and white over my feet.
Seagulls dive and snatch,
The remains of the fisherman’ catch
And the kite glides and falls like a stone to earth.
The sea rolls on and in.
An endless murmur,
Through the days and the nights.
My eyes, accustomed to this light
Of sky, of sand, of dry bush land.
Watch the sails of a lone boat.
And I think of many things, as I walk along this beach.
And as always my thoughts return to you.
You with eyes the colour of the sky.
I wonder where you are in the city
So far away from my world, from your world,
Of sea and sand.
I think of you and the distance in between us.
Distance that as time has passed,
Has grown too far to breach.
I know this, but still I think of you,
As I retrace my footprints,
In the dampness of the sand.
the Father visits his son in the dark of day
The son is abed, pale in the light of night
For the sun and moon are witness in this hour of twilight
But the sun is not heat and does not shine as bright
And the moon is not rigid rock
The sun is a warm hope, fading ever so slightly
The moon is softness, the dark is soothing
The son is abed, covers sprawled over his listless form
The son is restless, he doth not sleep
The son is ebbing, his heart does weep
and his Father lifts the covers up tight around his chest
and kisses his brow;
The son blinks wearily, smiles wanly, whimpers meekly
Sleep my son, the Father whispers
But I cannot sleep - Sleep eludes him
I want to play - Rest prances about him
close enough to want, just out of reach
And how can I sleep father? - How can he rest atop this fated bed?
When I wish to wake? - When his heart doth weep restlessly?
the Father wavers, he caresses the son's brow, but not his heart
For the heart is within, the caress without,
Rest my son, he says, rest and forget
The Father, gently, lovingly, pulls the covers up, tight around the son's neck
But father, father why
My heart will not sleep
Five more minutes? Just five.
Sleep son, the hour is late, the time is neigh
And the Father, always lovingly, he pulls the covers tight over the son, and lowers him into
Sunset dips from a bay’s view
Its pulp so tangerine clear--
Releasing a minty froth.
As her crown bleeds on water
I watch a hazy profile--
A faded memory now
Tearing my chilling nightfall.
Created by Banjo Casto Nov 12 2014
Silhouette A Heptagonet
nette onclaud's Contest
Crystal lines with their
sparkling sides glistening in
early morning light.
Evergreen, dripping with heavy white blankets.
Rabbits hiding in their snug little
boroughs, safe from the chill.
Snow rising high, into drifts and mounds that dwarf the trees.
The sun glitters off everything,
magnified by the icy prisms.
A red cardinal perched upon a silvery-green bough.
Ever watchful, welcoming winter with his cranberry plumage.
A crystal winter in the tranquil forest land.
by the city heat
in that blue car,
permanently parked under embers of sunlight
until the moon
Breaks and swells in the sky,
easing the metal. Making cracks in the colour
and breaking the leather.
Aged by fair weather
and fairly harsh wear.
It smells like…
old and laughs and memories,
sometimes like tears and cries and photographs.
And it feels like them too.
On my skin and pressed against my back,
Grains of wishes and wants that now are dead.
How far did you drive before you could see,
The old concrete block that
crushed your resolve
that mangled and
buried you here?
That caught you
The wheels of time frozen, the vines intrude
weathered enclosure whispering tales of yore
resplendent in the setting sun, a majestic edifice
© Nadiya (15 March '15)
* Placed 5th in the contest 'Three Line Poetry' by Debbie Guzzi on 17 March 2015
I was the sunshine that cradled your day
that tried to push the clouds away
I was the sand that ran between your toes
when you were four years old
that soon became the rain you danced in
from seven to eleven
And I watched you grow in the glow
of a moon that beamed
when you turned thirteen
How unfair you thought I'd become
when you turned twenty-one
because you lost a few dreams
But I stayed awake when you were out late
I was the stars 'till you turned twenty-eight
And when you found your love
I was glimmer in the eye, the blue sky, the sun
Then you turned thirty-one
I became cloud, thunder and shower
there weren't enough minutes to put in your hour
You forgot how to dance in the rain
'till you turned forty all you did was complain
Then you took off your shoes
and went back to the sand
I was now the warmth of your child's hand
you spent more time with me
And when you stood fifty years old
you stayed warm to me even though
at times I was cold
How close we grew
when you turned sixty-two
The breeze was I
that hung your grandchild's kite in the sky
And I'm sorry I made you sad
when I took "the one" away
But I was proud
when you pushed aside that cloud
and cradled 'me' in the sun
for the remainder of our day
I just got back from my morning walk
I had forgotten how exhilarating it is
To watch the sun rise
Up over the hills of Beirut.
The campus where I teach is simply breathtaking
Nestled cozily in the pine tree forests on top of a hill,
It offers a panoramic view of Beirut
Many years back this was not a good thing
As the army brought a tank up to the upper campus
To shell enemy positions in Beirut
And our campus got riddled with bombs
We spent our days in shelters
While our campus burst into flame
But this morning, I didn’t remember any of that
I walked on the lower campus and gazed out at Beirut
I walked like a fool....my eyes looking up
Saying a shy good morning to the clouds
And a warm good morning to the One beyond
While I did my sit-ups on one of the benches
I looked up into the jacaranda tree
Its branches were naked, but I knew, I knew that in spring
It would be regal in purple finery
That would enchant all those who walked
Under the train of its beauty
Later it would rain purple petals down on all
But purple kisses for me, for I’m in love with this hue
As a reward, as always… I drove up to the upper campus
While listening to music, my second passion
As my car made the turns
I tried to keep my eyes on the road
And not fixed on the hills where the sun was getting ready
To make his glory known
Nor down on Beirut that was just waking up from slumber
I passed places that my heart cherished
Where my husband first asked me to be his
Where we parked the car and looked at
The dazzling lights of Beirut at night
Our hearts ablaze with the burning passion of youth
The place where he wanted to claim possession of me
But held back…honoring custom and tradition
I drove down slowly
I drove down reluctantly
I wanted to relive everything
To find the joy of being alive, once more
I had forgotten how beautiful the mornings are
I had forgotten who I am in the great scheme of things
But HE reminded me…
As the sun pushed through the clouds and shone in brilliance
The verse came to my mind…
“And the Son of Righteousness will rise with healing in His wings.”
Arise in my heart, for I need your healing!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Another day, the sun rises
Life lived in bland monotony
I find at best I am complacent
existing on the borderline of contentment
It's rarely found to be of favor
but everyday you'll find me here
Waiting patiently for another chance
to leave my mark on so dull a world
Maybe today will be the day
that this bleak existence I suffer
Finally gives way to a new spark
and I find excitement has been born
I wish only to have a moment
A brief passing of time
Let me live my fifteen minutes
dancing quietly in the spotlight
Another day, the sun sets
I look out my window
With a sigh I find my bed
Another day passed,
Another day wasted.
There is music in the wind
it blows so softly and sweet;
humming at the top of the hills
and all the trees swing to it
There is beauty in the water
when it flows from the mountains to the valley
splashing on its path from boulder to boulder,
reflecting the sun like a flawless ruby
There is beauty in the morning;
the fog hangs in the air like incense burning
drops of dew hang from the leaves
and sparkle like diamonds set in eaves
There is music in the evening
the sounds of roosting birds fill the evening
and in the sky, just over the horizon,
a yolk-colored sun hastes to its place of dwelling
Behind the sun, with a little bit of assuredness, I saw the shades of his smile
swing toward the moon...
and I cursed six p.m. In a voice that hid the memories of
when I wore my shoes underneath the shadows of stars and in the feel of his lips
when sixteen is innocent despite the cold exposure
I wonder if he knows I whisper to him in his sleep, my promises slipping underneath the
blanket he holds tight around him,
and feathers escape pillowcases when I laugh,
they tickle toes and dissolve the taste of fear
as my tongue finds the outline of his lips after the sun falls down and his
I tidy myself up on Mondays, and wreck the idea of perfection with my curls...
I wear jeans that smudge mountains across back pockets and imagine how the hem of my
burgandy dress would fall across chilled creek splashed rocks,
I wonder if I'd be able to stay pretty when my hands fall into mud and the wind attacks my
but he smiles, you see, when the sun falls...
he smiles when I change my clothes...
and he kisses me when my curls detest reality and Monday smirks at the idea of cleanliness
as my imagination drowns hems and rips fabric.
So I kick off my shoes with the idea that my toes can taste Tuesday and my feet can squash
the memories of
and revel in innocence as I discover
the cold exposure
Cresent moon consorts
Met on a hillside, dew-soaked and overgrown
Seducing the sun from sleep.
Before infomercials succumbed to scheduled shows
You were my cartoons and cereal.
Sugary, sitting so close to your screen.
Our skin blowing steam,
Fattening the fog until it fell from the sky.
Delicious and dark the dawn
The day stretched and yawned,
Bluebirds cleared their throats,
Street-cats rubbing eyes,
I held you as you cried.
While responsible citizens were stuck in traffic
You were a full tank of gas and an open road
Dreamy, with your pedal pushed to your floor.
Barren and yellow became our hills
The sun never stops shining.
Not a shadow exists to take solace in
sipping each heaven-sent breeze.
no stars to find my way by
Lost like the moon in the blinding blue heavens
died on a hillside, windswept and thirsty.
Begging the sun to sleep.
It is all in the Stars if you look hard enough.
There is always the morning Star twinkling.
And then there is the evening Star blinking.
And then there are layered clouds in a fluff.
Then there is the Sun and Moon and stuff.
Sometimes it looks like the Moons winking.
Sometimes it looks like the Sun is thinking.
Makes me wonder if their day can be rough!
What a wondrous world I live in.
What balance I live by every day.
My life must be granted and given.
So no wonder I take time to pray.
It is granted and given each day just to be me.
Just look up once a day and this you can see.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2006
Ol' Sea Snake's Carriage Ride
Cobblestones wobble and rock the carriage,
as I circle these streets with Blue Bits and
Derby Boy on this vibrant morning.
With the sun on my back and a salty gale brushing
by, my spirits soar as I imagine what the day will bring.
People come from all over to tour this city,
and soak up it's history and scenic views.
Why not climb aboard my carriage and take
a brisk ride with me on this beautiful day?
As we trot through the historic district, I'll
tell you some of our most scandalous folklores
and show you their shocking locations,
like Copper Moon Ridge, where pirates once
dressed as dames to steal their first good swig
of America's finest moonshine.
It's still pretty darn good!
You'll see the towering cliff views of our granite
lighthouse, whose menacing design has weathered
decades of the ocean's pounding tides.
We'll squeeze in time to feed the beached seals basking
in the sun or catch a rare glimpse of the orca whales
playing in our bay.
If romance is your desire, I'll tool you around in the moonlight,
to our brightest vistas that magnify the star's diamond twinkles.
...Perfect for capturing your lover's passion-heart.
I'll even take a long stroll, just to assure you of your privacy.
...Gentleman's honor, I won't take a peek!
If it's fish and chips you seek, we'll head over to
Smacky-Bud's Mackerel Shack for the tastiest fish around.
But I'll be up front with you, don't feed any to Derby n' Bits
or it'll be a long ride back.
So jump aboard and take a ride with this Ol' Sea Snake,
while there's still time.
I'm not getting any younger!
You day-trippers spend too much of your weekly grind
in your lackluster cars.
Come, sit back and unwind for a short time.
I'll sweep you back to the golden age of enchantment,
when hearts would mysteriously merge on a slow-trotting
carriage ride. Memories like these could last you a lifetime!
an autumn songbird gives voice to the luxurious late day
beautiful its song caresses the ear
all natural world breathing as one with your heart
as the sun itself kisses you tenderly
as if saying farewell to you and the day
and as the sun slips to the horizon
you close your eyes and can feel heart take to wing
with the autumn songbird playful in the crisp air
feel your soul breath and soar among the clouds
floating in the warm breeze of
that eternal summer dream where
everyone is forever young and in love
forever happy and filled with wonder
the autumn songbird fills me with her song
fills me with the strength of possible beauty that the new day promises
fills me with the peace found at the heart of kindness
so will you join me
rejoicing her song
will you take a moment to breath in
the wonder of late autumn summery day
I remember how you looked that day;
How happy, young and free.
Your sun bleached hair, your sun bronzed skin,
I watched you from the lea.
You never saw me standing there,
I'm glad it stayed that way.
We never spoke, we never met,
But I came every day.
I came to watch you cast your net.
You were my mystery man.
I whiled away the live long day,
Watching from the sand.
You seemed to have all you could need,
The surf, a boat, a net.
I close my eyes and click my heels,
And I can see you yet.
For Close Your Eyes And Click Your Heels Contest by Michael J. Falotico - Aug. 22,2011
I do not know?
It was in the middle of summer,
And the sun was burning bright and warm.
Up in the sky,
There was not a cloud in sight;
Only the cool summer breeze,
That blew around the day.
You were standing looking my way,
And I don’t know why,
But I looked back and saw you,
And I thought you called to me.
Before I could take a step,
A gust of wind pushed me back,
And the bright sun blinded my eyes.
Then out of the turbulence around me,
I saw you come to me and reach out.
My heart also reached out to you,
And in that magnetic attraction,
I could smell the scent of your skin,
Though I could not put my hand in yours.
I wanted to stay and be with you,
But I found myself walking away instead.
Why did I not reach out and hold on?
Why did I not stay for the sake of love?
Then I realized it was like all summer feelings;
It was short and sweet,
It was good while it lasted,
Though I miss it when it’s gone.
My summer sun, my summer breeze –
Oh, yes, it was in the middle of summer.
I am aimed and directed for a shooting star.
In the midst of a collision I am traveling far.
Nothing can stop me for I am on a lifelong mission.
I’m timing the clocks and gaining some recognition.
I am in and out of reality stumbling onto a delusion.
Sometimes I want to run free and go into seclusion.
The wind tries to hinder me so I shew it to go away.
I stand on the Moon and make the Sun arise a new day.
I am looking down at a world that is misunderstood.
If I could have I would have and then again I should.
But that is neither here nor there so I will fair.
I have accumulated a bit and have much to share.
However, there is a cornerstone one can get stuck.
One must find the mother Star and hope for lady luck.
Once you find it you will be well on your way,
You’ll rise with the Sun and be brighter each day.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2006
In My Net
I cast my somber trap
a tattered old net
once more this morning
toward the top of the acasia tree
just as the sun begins
to wake at the eastern
slope of my day.
I hope to catch that birdsong
that nightly haunts the floating dust
in my room – circling and circling
but not in a merry dance
commencing at twilight
promising to end only when my heart
stops its beating.
The purple notes touch
each blanket thread
on my melancholy bed
kiss each carpet flint covering
this chafed bedroom floor
they seep within every pinhole in my skin
and puncture every vein.
Twilight soon slides to midnight
and these notes perforate my eyelids
driving away portraits
of giggling green leaves
forcing out echoes of a phantom laugh
the only one I nurse
the only one I utter.
The net I toss up every day
and I only drag it down
as soon as the sun sinks
at the deep valley
but no birdsong here
I can stare or listen, stare or listen
for all eternity --
but not a hint of a note.
Just the heap of fallen leaves
a metaphor of old dreams
mounding in the middle
for their inevitable decay.
A blending with the elements.
A blending with clay.