Posts Tagged ‘grass’

Fallen Star

Posted: December 25, 2010 in My Poetry
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One star
vaults
over mountains –
lands
face up
on the lawn.

Burns frost
from grass
in widening circles;
pebble
in a pond.

Steam rises;
makes it hard
to see
despite
that hard, white light.

Approach
The Fallen slowly:
a piece of
Heaven’s heart –

where it fell,
still shining.

Fear
doesn’t know
its name.

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Dead Head

Posted: July 9, 2010 in My Poetry
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Gild the lily,
paint it gold;
it dies anyway.
Flowers aren’t meant
for keeping –
actually grow better
when regularly beheaded.

A lone vine of ivy
creates a wall
with time;
spreading and dividing
until all gaps are filled.

Like ivy, I am stubborn
and sometimes poisonous.
I have a zeal for life,
hang on tight –
climb higher every day.

A survivor, unlike flowers
who shed their hothouse
bloom-perfume
within hours of their capture.

Mourning glory –
is that you?
Purple flowers, sometimes white;
that crazy lingering scent.

Hurtle up the fence,
and though the grass
like Alice through
the looking-glass.

On the front porch, rain slants in
through trellis, ivy, and rosebush,
spatters my face with cold drops.

Listening to a growing breeze
taunt the wind-chimes,
I’m almost happy, for a change.

Music of varied tones;
orchestrated air –
blowing from the canyon
with spring-sweet scents.

The dogs caper in newly mowed grass,
ensuring green paws for days.
They let the rain soak them,
look up at grey sky – as if giving thanks
for this bounty. Watching,
I wonder if dogs feel it too –
the peaceful heart of our world.

To Ty

Posted: April 19, 2010 in My Poetry
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It’s spring.
The grass in the yard
has grown in uneven clumps;
I thought of calling you
to tame the long, green mess.

I was halfway through my thought,
before I remembered;
that you’re dead.

You’ll mow no more lawns,
nor rake leaves under
crisp blue autumn skies;
inhaling the smell of bitter leaves –
or fresh cut grass in spring.

You will lie,
as you have for the past 4 months,
silent and unmoving,
6 feet underground.
No more laughing, joking, teasing.
No more you to love.

No smoke breaks
on my broad front porch or
talks about the future.

No more shining smiles,
your face lit from within,
as if you carried the sun inside you.

Just an untamed yard
in need of mowing,
and a whole life of
no more you.