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 *Photograph By Cathie Douglas* Thanks
For The Temporary Use Of Your Love, And Goodbye. The Noose Of Constancy Restrained A Wandering Eye, And That Led To A Flimsy Lie. Though Briefly Reeling, My Only Feeling Is A Faint Regret We Ever Met.
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 “Think
He’s The One,” She Asks? “Ever After Always Calls, The Idea Of Forever Enthralls, And Every Chance Romance Can Lead Into The Beckoning Dance, Or Maybe Not. Still, Better Give It All You’ve Got. But Happy Endings End, And Every New Friend May Not Be The Wished For One. Pretty Dreamer, Time To Join The Human Crew, And Lovingly Make Do.”  What
Was Your Intent, Prince Petulant, To Pinch The Antique Crown And Make It Wince? Air Your Petty Grievance As If The World Should Care? Every Family Is A Bag Of Bent Nails, But Build We Must, Or Turn Our Humble Glories To Dust. Your Kinsmen Drew Their Lot And Serve, But You Would Not. Pouty And Small, You Quit It All. The Rest Remain Profoundly Prison Bound, From Which There Is No Key. Self Defined, You Only Think You’re Free. Wait And See.  *Charlie French* High
Winds Blew Into The Day, Spinning Rags Of Paper Every Which Way. The Awning Across The Street Flaps Like A Bedsheet, As Mist Sweeps Down The Street, And No Birds Fly In The Gray Washed Sky. Snow A Thin Glitter, Winter Is Bitter.  *Van Gogh* Landscape In Snow Cloud
Billows, Horizon Gone, Blue Swallowed After Dawn, Dark Morn, Trees Forlorn, Winter Numb, Longing For Spring To Come.  *Giacomo Balla* Dog
Walkers Quick March By, The Morning Tipped With Frost, Paying The Cost Of Petlove In Coat, Cap, And Glove. Before The Day Has Quite Begun, Others Are Out For A Chilly Run. Warm In My Nest, I Wish Them All The Best, And Sip My Tea, Idle As I Can Be.  I Now
Say To Myself Words I Would Have Thundered On Youth’s Stage, Instead, I Put Them On A Page To Hopefully Be Read. With Age Comes Wisdom, So It’s Said, And I Find It Mildly Grating To Still Be Waiting.  *Duy Huynh* Turn
Slightly, And We Could Be Somewhere Beside The New Washed Sea, Clean Once More, As Dappled Waves Caress The Jeweled Shore. Skin Honeyed By A Benevolent Sun, Our Love Supple, Young, And Only Just Begun.  *Ollie Le Brocq* The
Beautiful Gentleman, Born Far Away, Sits To Expertly Play The Cello. He Gives Us Mellow Samuel Barber, And From A Hidden Fantasy Harbor, Emerge The Ships Of My Desires, Sails Bright In The Stage Light, And I Think Amusing Things, Such As His Blunt Fingers Firmly Pressing On My Strings, And My Imagination Absorbs The Welcome Vibration.  Two
Score Of Pigeons Stitch Wide Along The Power Line, Flowered Embroidery Electrified, Then, As If Shocked, Drop In A Flock To The Sidewalk. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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