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Rickie Elpusan Poem
liquid little stones
skipping and skittering free
on shared umbrellas
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
carved on a willow
our love growing out of reach
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
tempest stomps her feet
as she shakes her liquid skirt
knee deep in N'awlins
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
You wear the gray
as tattered as the cloud
stalled above you.
Stilled
by the quiet math
of an end
already calculated.
The soil calls your name.
On the rivers edge
you are the willow
cradling dawn's mist
of unwept tears
A practiced sorrow
earned from decades
of watching the river
pull the banks
into its mouth.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
Adrift in this vast,
empty sea. Silent,
save for the beckoning call
of distant gulls,
your only friend. And
the makeshift mast and sail is
uselessly flaccid.
And beneath,
concealed
by the dangling sway,
of muddy-
moss-green ribbons of waving kelp,
is the dark murk
of unknown depths.
Then the wind
panics,
arousing your sail and
it swells into life
and draws you towards home.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
Broken fruit stacked forward,
tender, lip-soft skins scuffed
among her unspoiled sisters.
Lonely is the unripe peach
turning her sun-side out, beckoning,
longing to be washed and tasted—
ignorant of her own green bitterness.
They always reach past the imperfect.
But for the fruit,
the reaching stops.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2008
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
I'd hoped the sea remembered me,
accepting me so easily,
as evening peaks and
the moon draws out the tide.
She wrapped me in her icy shift,
eyes closed shut I'm set adrift,
and through the wash
I'm tossed with every stride.
Caught within her brackish flow
my beating heart begins to slow,
Katrina's won,
the pain will now subside.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
when the wind blows through,
one can here the trees talking:
rattling green tongues.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
I woke this morning
to the billowing curtains
blowing in the breeze,
and the scent of the jasmine
just outside my window.
This garden is sparse:
the unkempt grass,
the bougainvillea, and
the persimmon tree we all loathe--
an over-abundance of ripening fruit.
The early morning sun
casts a hazy pillar of light
on my bedroom floor.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2005
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Rickie Elpusan Poem
I woke to billowing curtains
lunging in the breeze,
and the scent of jasmine
thick against the glass.
This once-orderly garden, gone sparse:
unkempt grass and the bougainvillea—
and that persimmon tree we loathe,
heaving with an over-abundance
of ripening fruit.
The early sun casts a hazy pillar
to weight the bedroom floor.
Don’t wake me.
Copyright © Rickie Elpusan | Year Posted 2008
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