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Luke Harvey Poem
Plastic flowers fill a vase
And wordlessly taunt the blue petunias
Scattered throughout the little yard;
“It’s oh-so-warm in here!”
They face
The kitchen window, watching a few of
The dainty flowers taste the harsh
Reality of Winter’s chill
With purplish petals acknowledging
The end of warmth and dropping off
To meet the earth.
“A shame!” they trill,
“A shame to fall from freezing,”
mocking
The cobalt flowers flecked with frost.
The plastic daisies, immersed in plastic
Dirt supporting plastic leaves,
Watch as the petunias twist and bend
Their writhing stems like green elastic.
The aging flowers reply with ease,
“At least we’ve felt the wind.”
Copyright © Luke Harvey | Year Posted 2017
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Luke Harvey Poem
A.M. Shower Thoughts
For boredom’s sake,
I used to like to take
An ice cube out of my drink
When I was cleaning dishes after dinner,
And placing it in the sink
I’d watch, somewhere between enthralled and bored,
The luke-warm water
Bore a widening hole
Straight to the ice’s center,
As if to release its soul.
Now, each morning,
I wake to water pouring
Over my morning mind
As if to thaw a hole down straight to my brain –
It’s here I’ve come to find
My deepest, most profound inspired thoughts
Start to take wing,
Like they were buried deep
Within a frozen brain
Just waiting for release.
Copyright © Luke Harvey | Year Posted 2017
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Luke Harvey Poem
Like so many lemmings blindly leaping
To join a game of follow-the-leader,
Every year around October
They decide to descend, all sweeping
Down on an evening breeze.
The first,
The frailest, leads this charge of the brown
Brigade with scarce a single sound,
And silently, as though rehearsed,
They follow, whispering down the wind
To scrape the Autumn dirt.
“It’s as if
They share a common mind, as if
They think as one.”
I notice then
The troubled look on the freckled face
Beside me.
“But Ms. O’hara says
We’re not to follow the crowd. She says
To be yourself.”
I gently mess
The auburn hair and watch the leaves
Come circling down from overhead.
“Your teacher’s right.” A burnished red
Has blanketed the house’s eaves.
“But still,” I say in a subtler tone,
“We weren’t created to age alone.”
Copyright © Luke Harvey | Year Posted 2017
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