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Trina Layne Poem
as a child,
I perceived
the wonderment
of Clouds.
and elders
likewise contemplated
the curious celebrity of them
the solemnity of shape-shifting skyships
their charity of rain:
encouraging fruit
greening hills
irrigating joys
keeping
watch
around the earth
in as enviable
a perch
as the risen sun
or mystic moon
that guides tides.
sun runs
apace
moon whisks
its baton away
but Clouds
stay high,
perpetual
imprints
covering Space and Time.
Could
Clouds
be God's eyes?
***
when I was
-abecedarian-
counting from one to three,
I licked my lips
at Clouds
reckoning
I'd catch them
like docile butterflies,
and discern the flavors of miracle floss:
must be rose-white sugar
some barley flour
lamb's fleece and goose feathers
the elders, lofty and wise,
disparaged my foolish games.
I tugged
on the edge of their mountainous faces:
wispy chins
transient strands
billowy beards
closest clouds
I'd seen
Proximal nimbi
and their dust trail
of ginger, onion, and clove
pulled pork, frizzled cod, light ashtray
lingered...
I caught
those crazy hairs
so hard
candy-coated
raindrops
fell!
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
gently on the roof
water marches as rice grains,
manna from heaven
attend our homeland,
exiled clouds pour your romance
onto cracking earth.
Our poor scorpions,
in bellies of hot, dormant
wells raised their generations.
Shamans still dance in rings, arousing bands of blessing.
Timbre grows, grains gaining size, dusty dreams refreshing.
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
Your good love strengthens bones like sunshine
My nose, a rose, a toast of red wine
The great flames of passion licking hot
though evenings grow, firsts sometimes forgot
Forgot that tender morn our eyes met
Hot with extraordinary sweat, wet
Wine, a blush cabernet, sparkling smiles
Sunshine spotless, a wonderful while
Would I forget Heaven's first advent
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
Chubs is gravely flat.
We remove our hats.
Her wheel deflated him—
Chubs, my cuddly cat.
Flounder is lying flat,
ambling on his back.
Her croutons choked him—
Flounder, my friendly catfish.
Gopher is resting back-flat,
striking position for naps.
Her diabolical chocolate gateau
snuffed him out almost.
Gopher rose once again,
my mangy mutt, back-to-life.
Ma decried; she'd die
in a reindeer stampede
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
Beard or bard? queried chief counsel, The Spit.
Bared wit: "alike drunkn greif".
Berkspeller loose in the fief!
Beware, none sings from his lIEf...
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
Daylight
tickles leaves sparks
seeds buds unfurl ~
beauty undercover in Moon hegemony
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
it's usually early
as day starts turning
over
when the air around is as heavy as
seas
in your chest
feelings are intermixed
between despair
and hope
like the sea
when your odds are in a bottle,
scribbled futilities tossed to the waves,
exit on the backside
of tides
until they resurface
with old whale stench
one out of water
tanning
under a hard sun
doves cry
in the shade
of mahogany trees
between noon and three
when my mother's mother's
roundabout
nonsense
lyrics
"Moses speak_God's word
Isaac too"
come fresh
to me
the doleful
doves
portend cardinality
begging adulterers
to repentance
"Feathery Prophets!"
grandmothers had spoken
that death will walk
into this village,
some house, any hour,
more sure than May rain,
taking stock
and mourners...
and choirs...
and pastors preach
and pray you well
while you sleep
later we'll all fall asleep
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
Next-door was unemendable
From a fall that incredible
all her grace was shredded cheddar
Covert charm's naked departure
one human coil in porcine bliss
soaking in her own unkind piss
phantom saucers for tea at noon
Prepare the room, tis Lady Loon
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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Trina Layne Poem
Good Christmases never come with chipped teacups.
Good Christmases don't kick,
bite,
suck,
tease,
wheeze,
pain,
complain,
but pack woolies for chilly bodies, familiar carols tickle hearts.
Good Christmases present gifts under a tree, lit and tinseled and capped.
~
Better Christmases have prized porcelain.
Better Christmases are toasted by chalices porting posh pink wines.
Better Christmases, jumbo stockings fill so carelessly, each could be a single Santa sack.
~
Best Christmases require us two for steaming chocolate.
Best Christmases outlast seasonal cadences - when Spring fires back and snows arrest, you and I’ll be swaying in Summer, fiddling leaves around Fall.
Best Christmases, we share like flirty diplomats talking in turns,
between laughter,
through gazes;
in narrow words,
immense phrases,
sincerely hopeful,
all together.
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2024
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Trina Layne Poem
for braver hearts that dreamt of me
accept my dearest sympathy
taken in a silent rapture
and not wont to admit capture
by my mouth would raise a scandal
but flamed jowls betray my candle
each face, yours alone in a crowd,
and yet your kiss shall make me proud
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2025
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