|
|
 biotwist.deviantart.com Overcast
At The First Tilt Of The Sun, Before The Day Has Quite Begun, Low Clouds Turn Gaudy Pink And Bruised Violet To Blaze Across The Sky Like Tie Dye, Until The Dawn, In A Second Phase, Turns Them All To Graduated Greys.
0 Comments
 deviantart.com Train Of Thought
A Speaking Glance, A Telling Look That Could Fill A Book. He Faces East, I’m Headed West, The Stations Chaptered Intervals In A Novel Journey, Each Page Turning With Literary Yearning. I smile, And Count Every Mile Until I must Stop, Descend, And That’s The End.  Boarding School
On Saturdays I would March With Others Down The Hill To The Little Town, Shepherded By Mrs. Browne. In Our Prim Hats And White Gloves, We Shopped For Treats To Eat In Dorm Rooms, Snacks To Keep Us Going While We Were Growing. I was Twelve, But Vividly Recall Buying This Candy Symbol Of America And Religion. I held It In My Hand As I walked Back With Marooned Girls Like Me, Set Free By Distant Family. I was Extra Baggage In The World, A Remnant, A Loose End, With Losses It Took My Life To Mend. I put The Confection Of Resurrection Aside, With The Puzzle Of Meaning, And How It Had All Begun, And It Melted In The Easter Sun.  Drawing by Richard Stine Tribulation
In New Mexico, It Should Rain Every Day, Or High Winds Come And Blow What’s Not Secure Two States Away. What’s Left Catches Fire And Burns Cheerfully, The Population Tearfully Concerned. ‘The Bosque', They Shriek, ‘Is Blazing Twice A Week!’ Meantime, To Divert The Anxious Tribe, Spring Allergies Arrive, And We All Inhale Strange Pollen To Survive. Life In The Desert Can Be Touch And Go, My Weariness Is Apt To Show. Some Days I think It’s A Pity I ever Left New York City.  Middle March
Today, After Some Delay, I put Fragile Flower Seeds Beneath Raked Soil, After A Lengthy Toil To Clear The Desert Stones Imported By The Wind, That Descend In Winter And Somehow Splinter Into Gravel As They Travel. I say My Sower’s Prayer That They Will Pardon This Rocky Earth And Bloom, To Bring The Garden Into My Empty Room.  *Ghosts* by Neverwinter Mindtrip
A Multitude Dwells Inside My Head. Some Are Living, And Some Are Dead. They Occupy Houses I left, Cities Joyous And Bereft. I know Them, And They Know Me, And Generally, We Let Each Other Be, But Some Lonely Nights They Multiply In Flights Past My Chair And I observe Them Everywhere, Resist And Accept, Praise And Condemn, Then With A Kiss, Put Them All Away Again.  *Emptiness* by Ramazi Kazishvili Aliens
If We Dig Down In This Forsaken Place, We’ll Find Left Over Fragments Of The Race Who Long Ago Preceded Us. With Scarcely Any Fuss And A Long Handled Spoon, We Can Delve Right Into Their Living Room, Partially Intact From The Last Nuclear Attack. Here, A Dynasty Of Kings Were Blown To Smithereens By Ancient War Machines. Fill Your Knap Sacks With Artifacts Atomic From Antique Conflicts Mostly Economic, Or A Foolish Quest For Power, Finalized In A Toxic Shower.  This Way Out
You Had Me, Baby, But You Have Me Now No More. That Opening You See Is The Door. Not That You Were A Bore, Indeed, I was Amused. It’s Your Devious Hustle I refuse. Hit The Road, As They Eloquently Say, And Please, Just Go Away.  by *artlessilliterate* Consumed
Every Day, Across The Way I see The Fat One And The Fatter One Sally Forth, All Heaving Jiggles, To Return With Fast Food Joy, Perhaps A Necessary Ploy To Keep The Universe At Bay And Forget How Much They Weigh.  *Harriet Backer* 'Lesende Dame' Companions
Those I’ve Loved Stand Invisible Below And Above What Little I know, And Follow Me Where I go. When The Road Is Rough, That Solace Is Enough To See Me Through, And I can Make Do. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
February 2019
|
RSS Feed