Saturday, April 18, 2009

Dusting Off Some Old Poetry and Thought I'd Share a Couple

A Valediction

In my white dress,
Curly hair,
Smiles and tears,
With my something old,
And something new,
Something borrowed,
I was missing something blue,
Or was I?
I wish
I could say
I’m sorry…
For moving on so
Quickly,
But I’m happy.
I’ve heard many times
“You can’t fake it hard enough to please
Everyone
Or anyone…”
But it seems I’ve succeeded with you.
Unless you’ve succeeded with me.
You weren’t there
To see my smiling face
Or see me race across the hall
In that big white dress
Clutching frosting and cake.
With a smear across my painted face,
Or when I sang my heart out for him
In my parent’s back yard.
But that doesn’t matter.
“I’ve learned so much since you’ve been gone.”
And maybe someday I can show you that.
But for now
Adieu.


Her Silent Legends

Golden light, orange leaves
And a clear sky.
A once lofty giant has fallen over.
Shards point to the heavens where he was torn.
The body lies, humble,
In the rusty yellow grass,
Quietly encircled by his autumn friends.

An ancient pathway,
Overgrown in its travels,
Mourns near him and endures.
It slithers out of sight in the distance
Where mists overtake its resolve
At the foot of an erudite mountain.

Faintly seen in the above blue,
Thin, curved lines form lumps and angles
And soar together over the hilltops.
They circle each other warmly,
Playing Hide and Seek in the clouds.

Beneath, the giant still sleeps,
Surrounded by the golden light.
Radiated in the peaceful portrait
Of a newfound morning
In the forests within
My Grandmother’s imagination.

2 comments:

  1. Lovely emotion tied into the first poem. I admire the beautiful imagery in the second one. I like many of these lines. I especially like "overgrown in its travels, mourns near him and endures". Keep writing poems. You do have a poet's heart!

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  2. Thanks Septembermom. That first one is a bit emotional. ...I don't look back to that as often as I used to. Almost didn't realize I had posted that one. And the other- it's written about a painting done by my grandmother. It takes more attention in reading, I think- some have told me they get lost in what I'm talking about, but I've never been sure how to fix it for them.

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