Details |
Ben Griffin Poem
Recall language class?
All “onomatopoeia” -
Blah, scritch, creak, tick, ring!
Copyright © Ben Griffin | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Ben Griffin Poem
Ukraine rains tears; blood.
Her blue sky and golden fields.
Poppies in the wheat.
Copyright © Ben Griffin | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Ben Griffin Poem
Our fine, equal, law-
Instructs us - both rich and poor:
“You may not beg bread!”
Copyright © Ben Griffin | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Ben Griffin Poem
Sleepy, droopy, green
She hangs, easy, in her tree;
So slow, forest dream.
Copyright © Ben Griffin | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Ben Griffin Poem
Your kind golden eyes.
Their depths tell of endless tales.
I long to hear them.
Copyright © Ben Griffin | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Ben Griffin Poem
Her story is hidden in every third word.
Our hunter sought deer. He tracked silently while he bounded over brooks, away, into woods, zigzagging amongst trees, through undergrowth, while the doe jumped dense thickets ahead. Forest birds screeched and took flight, evading chance of danger. It was her he tracked. Instinct and guile kept him focussed. Her near silence ahead bewitched him: She seemed so rested as she quietly evaded him. In between moments a cool breeze, hidden, opened a spot. She was watching, unmoving as the arrow left hunter - aimed well, but hitting wood. She waited. He slipped another shaft into his bow. The forest waited, hushed. He sensed depths as eyes of each met. The arrow stayed; woodland breathed again.
Copyright © Ben Griffin | Year Posted 2024
|