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Angie Mae Poem
The meadow's radiance gradually dimmed
and evening littered far and wide
it encouraged the unfamiliar
and everything uncertain.
The night accelerated sounds of anticipation
as a thousand strangers loomed
and I thought him to be a foreigner
until he glanced twice
as his smile slightly dropped
astonishment plagued him
Insecurity encompassed me
as I turned away in doubt
betrayed by the numinous...
that often guides my thoughts
He left with lady and child, to merge
With a thousand anticipating strangers
and the northern lights sheltered me
the explosions across the sky
gave satisfaction -to so much expectation
that unexpectedly emerged
Then the night was briefly soundless;
the applause prolonged
as were my duties...by my immersion
and within what felt like only seconds
he was passing,
through a thin pane of glass
all I could yield was a smile,
a smile to the incredulity within his eyes.
Enclosed with the evening...was the meadow,
and the difference was indistinguishable.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
Our present incapable to convey,
beneath the heaven's sky,
yet we share the evening elucidation,
equivalent morning rise,
my storm will rage your way,
your gust flustering me one day,
articulating thoughts of you...
and mystifies my life.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
Outside, there is a small trail
and six steps
separating me from those that pass on by,
Impossible, to hide, behind my ruby house coat
and synthetic flavoured...
bitterly savoured, morning coffee
An old man walks by,
paced, in slow - rhythmic strides
in order to balance three bags
his aluminum collection
Toes, emerging from the tips of his tattered shoes,
As he spies me
we engage in observations
He is courteous, as he desists,
lowers, his head in his travels,
continues to descend down the hill
around the corner of my house,
heat scorching
This morning,
all I can hope for
Is that he does not rip my garbage apart.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
The evening fresh,
stars allure,
birthed- ground-breaking.
To look back, seems feeble
forward, Vigorous.
It is almost too late,
I have hollowed a place
for each hope I carried,
trickery twisted imagination.
The sky littered,
calling...all visions to death,
each cup of soil,
warmth
befriending faith with roses
daisies,
as I walk away,
nurtured.
There are no more stones-
upon stones,
upon stones,
only hours perhaps,
devoted.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
56 years.
Now he lives on the 8th floor,
she lives on the sixth.
2 floors,
two buttons,
and 20 feet away.
He travels
by cane.
Relieved
they don't make those things
out of saw-dust,
she lives
2 buttons,
two floors,
and 20 feet away.
Too much momentum
to spin her attempts,
he waits for her guide downstairs.
Paces in front of the window each day,
and when she makes her move,
he hurries down
-well, he tries-
so she won’t assemble outside,
unaccompanied.
Always wondered what they talked about,
perhaps the loss of their only daughter
thirty years ago.
perhaps not.
That other day
she sat alone,
and I thought
... he may have just had taken a nap...
and as she rested there waiting,
she joined him,
in the only way she could.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
Fragments of copper scatter;
smothers an Opal kiss
the surface only matters;
ardour does not exist,
and deserts of weary Chicory
sway with limestone tips,
swelling like the cactus
blistering our lips.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2007
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Angie Mae Poem
Flourished, the vintage affection of elegant talent
drizzled lightly in the exploration of a drowning yacht,
resurfaced, only through amiable bailing,
continual, until the waves desist,
the ocean arid,
then lingers,
submerged in the dip of the shoreline.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
Weeping Willow tree,
wave gently over me,
hide me from the breeze.
I wish to serve cake, peppermint tea,
Delighted you munch so happily
no other place, I would rather be..
then sheltered in wispy custody.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
It is only a geranium
blooms with steady scorches
unswerving loyal drizzles
and swells with glorious colours
that seldom waver to impressions
as one passes by
I am only there to contribute,
take from such beauty all that I can endure
and perhaps as I gain courage
seed a few more each weekend
until the mornings consist of fresh perceptions
captivating admiration
and if I need to escape,
walk out the back gate,
it is only because
I often forget to remind myself
it is only a geranium.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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Angie Mae Poem
He was a silent man.
He stayed upstairs, typing unceasingly
and during dinner, mumbled accusingly
nothing ever finished
That evening he noticed,
saw his child sitting in the distance
alone, he crossed the field
He teased; they played,
among the blades of several hills,
a thousand times they rolled,
vibrating
He laughed; they roared
Disney visions, collaborating
goose-bumps; torching recollections.
He taught; they practiced
hundreds, of air pockets among them
they flew like ravens
They went home, and thereafter
He was a silent man;
his child unspoken.
Copyright © Angie Mae | Year Posted 2006
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