Splashes of colours
Burst from their verdant covers
Seeking the sunshine
The Poetry Store
“Oh, no!” she cried, tears in her eyes,
“The poetry store is dark inside!
The shelves are empty – the rhymes are gone!
No books! No schemes! No driving song
Of meters pushing each word on.
This cannot be! This is a crime –
To take poetry but leave us time!
Who would bury us with such woes
As to live and die with only prose?”
The Writer Writes On
The writer writes on
As reading fades away –
Only letters and words,
All jumbled and misplaced,
Remain in a pile
Of scattered fragments
Like clues to what once was.
To be interpreted,
Not read or said,
A language bleeding out
Until it evolves – or finally
Lies dead. A memory,
Some strange hallucination
Inside the writer’s head.
The Hunt
Some yearn for sugar-spritzed marshmallows
So bright they seem ready to spring,
To caper and cavort across the plastic grass
Until, headless, they fall – or rise again,
Joined by dismembered cohorts of chocolate,
The wish of other hungry souls along with
Eggs and chicks – all the same rich confection.
Among them eggs that bleed rich cream,
Bought in handfuls and consumed to a coma
While the hunt continues through the yard
With rewards of bright-colored plastic (empty)
Or worse, a discarded craft project,
That holds only food – no candy or coins –
Unless, wait, yes, it could (oh please)
Contain a chorus of glitter awaiting its prey.
The shower of sparkles, the laughter, the chase and (eventually)
To sleep with a chocolate-smeared smile on your face.
Fain to Fade
Do they walk?
Why would they walk?
These faded shades of legs,
Long crumbled, hidden away.
Is it memory?
Some distant longing
For what once was –
Before it wasn’t.
Is that why they stay?
That need to see – to be?
To walk, to sing, to hold, to touch –
Are those the draw that,
All unseen, hold them
Where they cannot be
But must remain –
A dream, now dust:
Fate fain to fade.
Dream While You Can
Dream while you can
Til it fades in the dawn:
The dawn of marriage,
The dawn of kids,
The uncountable dawns
Of the life that you live –
Look! There! Can you see
Responsibilities break
Through the clouds
Of dreams left behind:
Ambiguous, undefined, hidden
In the depths of your mind –
Taken over by dreams
Taken over in kind.
Or
Accident or
Unforeseen consequence?
A difference of words
Or a difference of intent:
The truth of your awareness
Or the truth of what you meant?
twytte 