fallen oak’s cors leaves
over the kitchen window
— unnatural shade
7/5/2018
a concrete walk
paved and gray
a path that brought
you a win this day
–––––––––––––––
i thought it would
concrete delight
zigzagging good
by Sandra Haight
––––––––––––––
along the shores
of my memories
laughs and cors
and cups of teas
––––––––––––––
like life must end
paths have to too
i do sincerely send
congratulations true
your virtual friend
Mick E Talbot
Blank pages stare back at me
waiting for my mind to pour
its' heart out.
I grab my pen, throw on my
headphones wait, wait for my
mind to give my heart words
that need to be written.
I make my mark, withdraw my hand, I stare.
This is all you see _____
Months have passed since words have
been written, my mind is hesitant
to reveal what my heart tries to
conceal.
Music plays in my ears in hopes
of encouraging my mind to find
its hidden words.
I stop, quote Jonson in my head
an English dramatist & poet...
"Suns, that set, may rise again
But if once we lose this light,
'Tis with us perpetual night. (Volpone)
Yet my mind still remains empty.
Perspiration runs down my face,
my temperature rises, frustration
runs through my veins.
I try yet again
I quote Apollinaire in my head
a French poet...
"Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse
Dont meunt le bruit parmi le vent"
My anger grows
My mind weary
My eyes tire.
As night falls, & its all over
my pages still remain empty
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