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 Landscape
Somewhere Above, Snow And Rain Met, And Fell To Albuquerque As Wet Sleet, To Soak The Street. The Wind Gusts, And Briefly Dusts The Grass With Winter Blossoms Of Frost, That Quickly Melt, And Are Lost.
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On My Lost Youth
I do Refuse To Sing The Too Late Blues, That’s Not My Thing. It Was A Wild Climb, And Lasted An Extended Time. But For Mercy’s Sake, I wish That For The Best Parts, I had Been Awake. It Took Years To See I no Longer Had It With Me. Now I entertain Thoughts Of Age, And Hear Its All The Rage, Though Mortality Has Become A Reality. Saga
Emmeline, A Girl Of Pride, Wept And Sighed On Her Wedding Day, When Her Faithless Lover Ran Away. Randall, A Lad Of Scant Regard, Reached The City, And Worked So Hard, He Soon Had Money By The Yard. He Married Well, And Did Extremely Fine, With No Regret For Emmeline, Who Did Not Soon Forget Randall, And The Awful Scandal. She Raged And Cried, Nursing A Broken Heart, Until Her Patient Quietly Died, Which Led Emmeline To Make A New Start. Love Came Calling, As It Will, And She Happily Married Banker Bill. Cold Hearted Randall Hit His Wife, The Plague Of His Life, With A Hammer, And Wound Up His Days In The Slammer. Emmeline Was The Perfect Wife And Mother, The Joy Of Her Husbands Life, Who Rose To Fame, Bringing Honor To Their Name. So What’s The Point Of This Love And Woe? I don’t Know. Traveling
A Hostel In Amsterdam, Beside A Canal, Water The Color Of Tar. Draft Heineken At The Bar. ‘The Real Stuff,’ He Told Me, ‘Not For Export. Have Enough.’ He Was On His Way Home To Sweden, I was Waiting For Passage To Spain. He Was Young, And I was Vain, But We Caused No One Pain. The Next Day, I got On A Train, And He Cycled North Again. Not Much More To Say, Except I remember Him Every Day. January
In The Dark, I watch The Snow, Visible In The Street Lights Glow. Its Coming Down Fast, But Likely Will Not Last. I think Its Mean To Snow At Night, I miss The Show, When I awake To Melting White. The Mountains Get The Storm, And Albuquerque Stays Too Warm. As Always, Fierce Canyon Winds Will Blow, Give Angel Fire Deep Snow, And That’s The Way It Will Go. Blank
No Verse Today, My Muse Has Gone Astray. These Useless Poems, (Not So Hot) Are All I’ve Got To Fill A Literary Chink, Allowing Me To Say Whatever I think, And What I’d Like To Share, Though Few Will Care. That’s Okay. I’ll Write Another Day. I still Have Time To Make Tomorrow Rhyme. Amid Night
Memory Is A Ruthless Snare, To Make Me Care Once More For Precious Hours Lost, And Their Hidden Cost. That Face, This Place, Love I left Behind Leaves Me Bereft. What Is There To Say? Cherish Today, Make Peace With The Past, Knowing This Moment Too, Will Not Last. Okay, I’m Pissed Off
Graffiti Guys Came Today, To Spray My Defaced Wall, Marred By Some Brats Illegible Scrawl. Any Fool With A Marker Thinks His Offensive Junk Will Make Him More Than A Destructive Punk. And As For Hitting Me With Such Trash, I’d Like To Give Them A Solid Bash. This Jackass Who Thinks It’s The Way To Go, Uses My Studio For Their Stupid Show. The Little Fart Doesn’t See This Ain’t Art, And Likely The Most Visible They Will Ever Be. Go To School, You Jerk, And Learn To Make Some Honest Work. Outcome
Rain Filters Through The Snow, Bathing The Sidewalk And Street, While The Lawn Is White With Sleet. I seek Warmer Climes In My Mind, And Remember Other Times. Flying Into Nassau, Skimming Over Transparent Azure Seas, A Tall Man From Michigan Beside Me, Six Foot Six, And Full Of Tricks. Quite Hot In The Bahamas, You Know, And Here I am In Desert Snow. I always Loved To Fly, But Married Another Guy. The Snowflakes Dwindle, And The Awning Drips Wet Regret. Its Too Warm For A Real Storm. I turn Away From The View, And Have Other Things To Do. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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