« Wha....? Where'd she go? | Main | Valentines »

31 January 2007

Comments

Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

Dave

But this is too good a poem to have written by a tired person!

endment

How you have caught the essence of the day... illness and fatigue..

Cathy

Excellent !

Emily

I really liked your poem...it really captures my own week! I really liked the part about seeing bodies on the street and changing the channel.

Rethabile

Yes, it is. And it is possible to paint a good poem to let us see just how possible it is.

Crafty Green Poet

It is possible to switch off from the world, but if you can write such a lovely poem, you haven't switched off!

Ivy

Blessed Imbolc, SB

gautami

I can relate so well to this.

catnapping

god, i have been that tired.

this poem is perfection. i would want a slim book of poems like this one. i would keep it in my jacket to read.

Pearl

Well put.

patry

I agree with catnapping. I'm greedy. I want a book of poems like this.

Small Talk

An beautiful poem. Fell in love with it.

Poetry

4 June 2007

After the storm, my mind cleared.


And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.

running quartz crystals through a blender.

sand through your engines.

bubbles in your bays.

estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas...

sand through your eyes.

5 June 2007


Calm as baby's breath


as peaceful as the storm's eye


Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds


a warm and windy tropical day.


7 June 2007


Black water at dusk.

Lighting on the horizon.


Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.


A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.


And Thunder like God clearing his throat.


8 June 2007


Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.


a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.


bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.


9 June 2007

Tickled her fancy.


giggling all the day long.


pretty good for a Saturday.


Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.

She smiled big--grinned really.

12 JUne 2007


A silver sky

ripe for the mirror.

you can not see yourself in this mirror

you can only see others

moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.

Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.


Birds skimming low over the water could

like as not

see them selves if they were to look down

as they skim low over the water

but they never do.

Rather they allow their reflections to chase them

quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters

while the bird's mind remains ever fixed on

food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.


A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.

13 JUne 2007

Like angry bee's eyes

the metal screen seen through the bamboo blinds.

A million insects dot the lake spreading micro ripples


14 June 2007

Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.


Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.

It is of birdsong and misty dawns

and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.


The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.

The first water birds head out for the far shore.

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Working...
Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been posted. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.

Working...

Post a comment

Your Information

(Name is required. Email address will not be displayed with the comment.)


  • flickr   Instagram   Pinterest
    facebook   Google+   RSS


  • sbpoet's artstream

  • Follow

  • Created with flickr badge.