Midnight,
And
The
Guttering
Light
Hovers
And
Grows
Dim,
Shadowing
The
Rose
As
I think
Of
Him.
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Harvest
Varied In Shape And Hue, Bountiful In Seeds, This Staple Fed The Needs Of Countless Indians And Whites, Enduring Drought And Blights. Today, I can Go Out And Find The Labor Of Centuries On A Grocery Shelf, And Help Myself. Contrast/Compare
A Shame Society’s Misdirection Leads One To View A Reflection As A Sad Distort, Falling Short Of The Ideal, Much Less A Vision Of Sex Appeal. Turn Away, I say, And Be Beautiful, Instead, As You Are In Your Head. Before
Once, I imagined I could See Half Way To Eternity, Mass And Space A Transparency, And In My Pride, Thought Nothing On My Canvas Should Hide. Midtown
On Rainy Days, A Haze Would Form, If It Was Warm, And Move Over The City, The Damp Rendering Pretty The Myriad Building Facades, Staining The Sidewalks Blue And Turning The Streets A Blackish Hue, Covering The Pear Trees In A Silvery Dew We All Walked Through. Clash
An Ant Was On My Table Today, Busily Carrying A Crumb Away To Its Mates Living Under The Floor. What A Bore. I watched As It Labored, The Crumb Tilting This Way And That, Then I squashed The Beggar Flat. Object
In A Court Yard Behind The School, I and Another Fool Fed Metal Scraps Into A Crucible To Trap My Elemental Form. The Flames Orange Hot, This Rubble Began To Seethe And Bubble. Avoiding Grave Trouble We Began The Pour Into The Plaster, Risking Molten Disaster. After A Long Cool, I took My Trusty Tool And Chipped Away The Shell, To Reveal The Secret I had Meant To Tell. Waltz
He Steps Forward, And She Steps Back, Dancing In Love’s Well Worn Track, Each With A Different View Of The Hall That She Can’t See, He Is So Tall, And He Can Hardly See Her At All, She Is So Small. What Keeps Them Circling Year After Year, To Music Only They Can Hear? Rimed
Hoar Frost Formed Silently In The Night, Crystalizing Water Vapor To Sparkle Every Surface In Bright Morning Light, Glittering The Grass To Golden Glass On Every Lawn, Then In A Sunlit Moment, It Is Gone. Alone
Keeping Hope Alive In The Dark, Waiting For A Spark To Ignite And Light My Way, Until The Morning Sun Appears To Dry My Vagrant Tears. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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