In quiet corners
obsession lingers
eyes stuck tight
while passion flames.
Wrapped in arms,
stroked, caressed,
paper thin
each moment savoured
with lingering longings
until with sighs,
the last
page is turned.
.
.
.
(Always so sad when a great book comes to an end)
He pays the toll
peck east
peck west
She’s the vehicle for
this journey
over-heavy for the road
burdened by billboards
Her engine rattles,
clanks,
thuds
down the road.
The convoy carries on
taking
a toll.
T h i s i s a
t
e
e
.
.
.
(Snicker. Sometimes I do things just to amuse myself. Ignore me).
T h i s i s a
t
r
e
e
.
.
(with apologies to Joyce Kilmer, who’s right, ’cause it isn’t as lovely as the real thing)
She wouldn’t dance.
But still
he spun her in circles
twisted her arms
flipped her over
spun her again
’til she was dizzy.
And yet
she wouldn’t dance.
You are
an uncommon mystery
that baffles the sleuths
You are
a melodious litany
of spiritual truths
You are
a sonorous villainy
raising the roofs
You are
in my periphery
and have been since youth.
.
.
.
.
.
Don’t ask. Sometimes I don’t have a clue what they’re really about, either. 😉
Yesterday
she was a closed bud
Today
she’s burst into pink frills
dusted with yellow
streaked with purple.
Tomorrow
she may fade
but today
she is a glory.
I was pleased to submit this poem to a cool project!
Acton Scott Farm in Shropshire England has a resident poet called Jean Atkin running a fascinating poetry project that she outlines on her blog: http://actonscottfarmpoet.wordpress.com/ Check it out!
Love those beautiful Shire horses!
I’d love a trip to England to visit the farm. If you’re a little closer than Western Canada, you should go! 🙂
She fills the sky
with a rainfall of words,
a hurricane of syllables,
a thundering of sentences.
She brews a storm,
but he stands impermeable
in silent eloquence
amid her eye.
Shawn L. Bird 