Postscript Poems

What Doesn't Kill You, a Postscript

The obstacles that still may come
As my clock is running down,
Will try, I'm sure, their very best
To put my mettle to the test,
And, when all, at last, is said and done,
It won't matter if I've lost or won.
I may not go out with a bang or a shout,
But, I believe I can leave minus simper

Postscript

A postscript read:
Potholes overhaul
Find a detour.

Jerusalem Parade - Surprise Postscript

LGTQs paraded through Jerusalem without a hitch
    though security was tight, not one single glitch

  Under the supervision of one Itamar Ben-Gvir 
    dubbed a 'racist right-wing fanatic' by the press
  They conveniently forgot that he'd pass every test
    upholding the philosophy those truly

I Am That Girl : Postscript To My Bio

I am a girl who decided to go to school barefoot, because that’s what other young children from needy families in a village were used to…

I am a girl whose best childhood memory is playing with sapphire waves on a tranquil seaside and listening to chimes soaring from a temple…

I am a girl who read

Postscript

Verse in odd rhymes
Bring awkward chimes


Word echoes strain
In meaning plain


Works in brisk ink
Tell on verge brink


Ideas now toil
To catch good spoils


Dare to word right
As soul takes flight


In a line brief
Watch mellow grief


No much can link
That funny think


See what you see
Yet let things be


Pique postscript then
For hope knows when


Buzz on a trust
Seize glimpse you must




Leon Enriquez
08

Our Last Postscript

How sullen can farewell inscribe
The words untamed, the rain a bribe
Like ink of hours upon our last postscript
Which tumbled down softly and quickly dripped.
Clearly now in the dimming afterglow,
When the pale night breezes start to blow
I know for sure , the thing I really miss…
The purest fervor of your windblown kiss.


10.14.2018
A Poem Written in Iambic

Postscript

...inspired by 'Old Song' by Hart Crane


Your smile took issue with the sun,
a flash of purest fire;
it blinded me to look upon
you, glowing with desire!

Now you are lost to me I know,
and as I sleep I pray
that distant orb's full fiery glow
will keep you safe alway. 

Your face will flicker to a haze,
a fading memory;
and

Postscript

...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 


Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent

Postscript

...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 


Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent

Postscript

...inspired by 'Old Song' by Hart Crane
 
 
Your smile took issue with the sun,
   a flash of purest fire;
it blinded me to look upon
   you, radiant with desire!
 
Now you are lost to me I know,
   and as I sleep I pray
the distant orb's less fiery glow
 

Postscript

...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 


Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent

Postscript

...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 


Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent

Postscript To a Passion

POSTSCRIPT TO A PASSION 

I was hoping you would prove me wrong -
Under the ship’s sides the barnacles still cling -
I would have thought you’d never sell our song
But true to typecast, summer mothering -

You, too, proved to be full of guile
To love meant having, which ever was the worst -
In the quiet of my

Postscript

...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 


Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent

Postscript

...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932) 


Words of purpose, carved and struck, 
as chipped from granite's cold confines, 
fashioned into filigrees 
that shocked and startled feebler minds. 

The Bridge, that span of subtle magic, 
metaphor of time and space, 
stretching skyward, swooping low, 
connecting man to style and grace. 

Letters of sophistication 
sent

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