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Jennifer Cahill Poem
Bursts of mist: drops like
pins against rock and sand
pushed by the wind.
Horizon's edge beneath
evening star, sky darkening
to violet like ink spreading.
Erosion of stone,
sunken gravesite: souls their voices
the roar of the sea.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
Redemption
She slowly uncoiled her gray streaked hair that fell to her waist. She removed her
spectacles to see more clearly the windswept icy snow clinging to the branches. A
pause, settling something deep within; then her gaze shifted to me.
I reached out, but found my reach was frozen, too stiff to touch her. For if I touched
her, the burden we shared would lapse and slide away, slinking off to be buried,
uncoiled under the ground.
A pinched, dour expression settled her features into a mask that would never
betray the inner darkness which created a shadow of an existence. A mask that I
must wear as well, to ward off the hopeless life within me, growing every moment of
the day, days upon days retreating into the too long nights, hopeless to survive in
the world we have created, together as “want” and “ruthlessness”.
“I carry no idolatries, no false hope.” A breath are these words as I receive them,
knowing they are too bold to give forth a safe humility.
The nurse, starched clothing as stiff as her countenance, paused, a look of
condemnation briefly shadowing her face, the sun passing in and out of the clouds.
She could not help herself. No matter the role we are chosen to play in this world,
we are not free of a deeply flawed human nature, ice softening dangerously on a
winter’s pond. I turned away.
I came to hours later, the rejected life in me gone, a searing through flesh never
immune to a free will taunting, tearing the fabric of life so fragile. I would not cling. A
passing briefly witnessed, a single brown leaf blown by the window in the darkened
room where we sit for tea, hopes slowly elapsing like the sea waters
receding.
Tomorrow we can only envision; today we must let go of a part of us we will never
again possess. A coursing through the veins of life no more, we push, and push, an
existence wishing to sink into the yawning chasm of what is unknown and coming
for us.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
House on hill apart
from the rest of us. Sometimes
its lights mimic the stars.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2012
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
And the westerly wind,
Will blow a sea of waving grass
And the sea's fine mist
Will breathe drops like dew
And the sinking suns
Will cloak the sky's horizon
And the moons of Autumn
Will beckon the golden fertililty of the harvest
And the violet tinged edge of night
Will cry for the white bursting of the stars
And the carved thrust of the mountain range
Will challenge the forever yielding blue
And the hovering tunes of the dawn's awakening
Will mimic the lullaby of my dreams
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
Slanting of the sun
bends the dusky silhouettes,
grown long for winter
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
Charcoal clouds
thunder heavy rains-the glowing eye
of New Mexico's sky
is bandaged,
cushioned with silver. Drops of rain
slide silken
down her wrists
mixed with red colors of sunsets
in June,
as is the month in her mind.
October is black;
September yellow gold orange,
the month of her birth is green
with white- grey
mixed in as stripes, curving like the road
she lost herself on.
The Moon rises
with the evening star,
night suns.
Visit New Mexico,
view the skies- diamond cut nights
and sunsets
spread colors
expanding like the universe.
A sky writes her poem,
flinging
her winged soul
into fresh air startling,
a flock of birds
taking off, soaring.
It is dewy softness suspended,
after the rain.
The colors are rainbows reversed
or upside down...
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2013
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
Trees fingering the bone-
white of winter are stripped bare
under the chilled blue sky.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2011
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
He is the sinking of the final red orange sun of the glowing summer
Warmth no longer oozing and seeping into the pores as I lie bare under the skies
Jeweled dewdrops on the morning grass to dampen bare feet all softness under
And the shimmer on the surface of the lakes like the diamonds in your eyes
He is the golden cusp pf Autumn's Fertility
The ritual dance of the scarecrow in the breezes
(Straw coming loose and flying towards you, most certainly
will brush up against you and tickle before he ceases)
And this thinner less lumpy all seeing scarecrow
Seems to be in no remorse: his knowing face will always grin
And his arms will always be raised in a wave to show
He will protect the yellow brown stalks that bend before him
He is the crisp wind that caresses the crinkled foliage
Their rustling like long flowing skirts on a 1940s ballroom floor
These winds chill the fingers and toes and your face with the stinging red roses
Yet when winter beckons the retreating light, we will be frozen at its core
He is silent snowfalls and many winter moons
And the brown earth beginning to expose itself
The uncoiling of green and mud beginning to ooze
And all new life breaking free from its fragile shell
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2012
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
The heavens
shimmer above the soft blossoms
of Springtime.
Petals open
for the sun as it clears.
Mystical wings..
of Eden..brush sunset
colors, touch the light golden
sea tints splashed
onto an Irish shore;
become an immaculate
Artic gleam..
The sky becomes cool
finely woven blue silk washed
by the sun-lit rain.
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2012
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Jennifer Cahill Poem
Autumn’s leaves fall and
The wind pushes through the branches
That sift the sunlight
Casting shadows upon
Their dreamy moonlike skin, soft
And damp like dewdrops
And their lips, the
Color of crimson twilight,
Kiss their long farewell
Copyright © Jennifer Cahill | Year Posted 2012
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