1.
This gnarled tree of mine
with old woman’s knuckles
rapping on a high pane of glass,
has ambitious branches.
Its leaves laugh at my languor
under the full feather duvet
that has become so dear to me
through the night.
She bids me wake, then shades me
from a sky that is hunting
for heat-seekers.
Sh, she is speaking to me,
one spiny screech after another
like my mother’s voice
when she needed me to hurry.
2.
Someone in the city honked
like a mad gray goose, when I,
preparing to turn the wrong way
on a one way street, bent the blinker
showing my intentions to cut
across an empty lane and swoop
into an offside store. Time,
like a V of birds, pushes at me,
for it is fall and bullets are whinging
from every angle. I have dodged
such deaths, being one-minded
when I am a hurry. I gave him
the point of my shortcut.
3.
It hurts to hip my way, quickly,
now that I am up and moving
into another stone-ground day,
I move more slowly. I have not
the smell of mother’s homemade
bread toasting in the oven to rush me
to climb trees and make a flag
dictating that I am about to rush
into the leaf-rustling whispers
about seasons being short.
In a list
A contest entry
- 15 minutes - 8 by Melissa Gayle.
360 points, ended February 3, 2007, 12 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Brilliant.
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Ditto to Nighthope's comments! Very descriptive and beautiful indeed.~~Suseann
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"It hurts to hip my way, quickly,
now that I am up and moving
into another stone-ground day,
I move more slowly."
God, I love your writing, Carol...You move me deeply with your Soulsong, my dear Friend...I can think of very few that inspire me more...You ALWAYS make me think & feel your words...Gorgeous, Lady...
Wanda
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Aw, you are such a comforting friend.... I do feel press of time..I am glad I have most of chit sorted out so I can sleep in if I choose. *smile*
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