Linseed Poems - Poems about Linseed

... Bursts of blooming colors in my garden fair every bud is beauty born of love and toil rays of sunshine easy days and breezy air cordial flowers flushed with color coil Nature sings of ......Read the rest...

...Today was the first day I held a sledgehammer with intention Callouses connect palms to fingers tiny fleshy boa constrictors. There is no catharsis I know this to be a hollow act With a face......Read the rest...

...Original blue- haired Alice rewrote the story Wearing a gown she constructed from linseed With lace sleeves cut from a summer shawl Possibly her grandmother’s favorite garment She popped roses ......Read the rest...

...The stock of the rifle is hand-selected walnut. I polish it with a soft cloth and occasionally use linseed oil. I dust a porcelain lady twice a week. She does not need my attention, but I give......Read the rest...

...Finally, she could get down on her knees again, not in prayer but to touch rosemary and lavender which had begun to send its fragrance into the spring and rising warmth in nature’s heart. There was n......Read the rest...

...I miss the barn, the hay loft, a place to listen to the midday sun creaking through old wood., the small clouds of horse flies moving as one in their jet-pack bodies, that rose and fell their......Read the rest...

...Flying Jib son of Curry Comb The care of the comb son of Garden Gnome Garden Gnome son of Pillow Case The case of the headrest o’ Second Base Second Base son of Baby Chick The chick who’s a ......Read the rest...

...fettered frightened multitude at our backyard, wailing in sombre sigh, waiting for beckett's “godots” multitude with talents begs their oppressor to survive, dying amidst plenty with multitudin......Read the rest...

...The stock of the rifle is hand-selected walnut. I polish it with a soft cloth and occasionally use linseed oil. I dust a porcelain lady twice a week. She does not need my attention, but I giv......Read the rest...

...Logs stacked by a decaying shed; scent of burning embers from chimney’s wafting past my face; I breathe in the crisp evening chill. The woodlands, a palette of color waiting to be l......Read the rest...

...The prism had reflected a crumbling schism of broken glass for far too long A mosaic with sharp spikes and edges imprinted on a breaking point of shards Copious cornucopia scattered over a trap......Read the rest...

...When I was twelve my grandma told me I was a woman – and in six or eight years I would be a wife. She said Sundays would be pasta days, Fridays I’d cook fish – and to keep a net of mothballs in m......Read the rest...

...IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXI LXXI IF ever I had a country targeted by no refugee And if ever I were appointed by the Inter-Planetary Committee KING of this territory by Inter-Galactic ......Read the rest...

...The face that was familiar is no more Yet in my dreams ,we amble through bright fields Where cornflowers and blue linseed softly grow The face that was familiar is no more The emptiness and l......Read the rest...

...Rescued from the side of the road on a cold and rainy day Thrown out like a piece of trash...a worn out throwaway So I pick you up and cover you up and bring you home with me And wonder why they c......Read the rest...