Summer Self Poems

Spring tones, the blues— creature sky must come down,
For Summer will chip on flowers cut under ploughs, 
Power now shared by crows long before Autumn's...

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Quote: A man can fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame somebody else. By John Burroughs


Life has many ups...

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Brilliant and dull,
Losing and winning,
Seeking and finding –
Among the dreams, a feeling…
She risks her heart,
And, finds her hope.
She rises in the morning,
To erase the darkest...

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I felt like a book 
very tired old and worn out 
needing rest on shelf....

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I searched laboriously for you in the cold winter rains,
shivering from the shallowness.
I chased you on the hot, sultry days of summer,
feeling your presence hovering...

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Like a blood-red moon on the zenith of the summer sky
Like a crimson bindi on the forehead of a bride, shy
I place you, O anger,...

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lover of moon
lover of stars
lover of mirrorballs 
lover of early autumn mushrooms
lover of bitter first frost
lover of sequins
lover of full moons
lover of folk
and true to...

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I searched laboriously for you in the cold winter rains,
shivering from the shallowness.
I chased you on the hot, sultry days of summer,
feeling your presence hovering...

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Earth.

When winter tires of being cold
Of icy fingers and chattering teeth
And spring can no longer sprout,
Green shoots and buds of promise
Summer will intervene with balmy-
Days,...

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(This poem was first published in my second book LITTLE PINE in 2016. The inspiration was an image in a dream of a delicate amulet...

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The poetry of one so dear
Is poignant to the soul
The images of love appear
To dissipate the toll

Our minds are called to witness
What are hearts cannot...

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this summer I had six goals
one of them was to clean my bedroom
I was living like a hoarder
I was not sure if muskrats or raccoons...

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One would not know, to look at me,
my years spent at the ballet barre -
tights sticking to me in summer,
cold fingers in winter.

And the aching...

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Is the soul a complex place,                                      ...

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Does how we see ourselves
Alter this world's outlook?
If uncommendably, would each
Not for it be mistook
Summer, winter? Day, night?
Dread to think! And yet I
Once, of that...

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