Avenue
Is
One
Way
South.
Rush
Hour
Crowds
Surge
Down
The
Sidewalks,
A
Hum
Of
Words
Flowing
From
The
Great
Uptown
Mouth,
Murmuring
In
A
Jumble
Of
Speech,
All
Stretching
As
High
As
Each
Can
Reach,
To
Catch
Elusive
Stars,
Wherever
They
Are.
Fifth
Avenue Is One Way South. Rush Hour Crowds Surge Down The Sidewalks, A Hum Of Words Flowing From The Great Uptown Mouth, Murmuring In A Jumble Of Speech, All Stretching As High As Each Can Reach, To Catch Elusive Stars, Wherever They Are.
0 Comments
Dealt
A Hand In Life, We Accept Or Refuse, But We Must Choose, To Give, To Fully Live, Or Contrary, Just Say No. Such A Heavy Blow Will Bruise The Heart, And May Prevent It’s Willing Start. But In An Unplanned Gesture, In A Taken Chance, Love Will Break The Pause, Despite Of Or Because, And Bring Romance. In
The Shallows, The Water Clears To Transparent Turquoise And Ripples Clean Down To The Tide Figured Sand Curving In A Wide Band Of White, Sunlit Bright. Further Out, The Sea Turns Midnight Blue Green Black, Rolling Always Back And Back And Back. A
Pox On Whomever Dictated The Changing Of Clocks. I Know Time Is A Repetitive Illusion, But Why Cause Confusion With Legislation Flummoxing An Entire Nation? And Next Spring, We Must Repeat The Same Disturbing Thing. How
Much Time Is Enough, How Many Will It Stuff, How Tall Can It Be, How Small Will It Seem, How Round, How Full, How Glib, How Profound? Check Twice, And If It’s Nice, Cut Once. I Ordered
Another Large Tube Of White And One Of Cobalt Blue To Make It Through The Unfinished Canvas Sitting On My Easel While I Write, Day Into Night. I Walk Between Two Loves, Though Poor At Each, Always Seeking To Extend My Reach. It’s
Gone Midnight In Our Troubled World, And In This Half, October Exits With A Laugh. November Opens The Gate To Frost, And We Must Soon Pay The Cost In Sun Blessed Gold, As This Stressed Year Grows Old. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
March 2024
|