Wishing Well

bunchcut clumps of frozen roses
bundled tight with severed hoses
lay at rest beside a broken/wingèd
horse upon a token
buried deep beneath a well
somewhere in its wat’ry cell
reflects a beam of fortune calling
stalling, standing ten feet tall
against the wall, much to bestow
a tiny glist’ning, far below

in a note of candid calling
bawling of an issue, wrote
what comes as coming standard
wish you naught a fret, refraining gloat
a stubborn goat, a sour day’s bet
will ‘ere the morning hour be met
and call you shall with all in hues
this blinded, baited, blessèd news

Copyright L.M. 2007.

Advertisements

Gold Firings

in the nighttime
when you’re standing by my door
will you look up
and see me falling still
when you say my name
I could pull back one more time
but your eyes are far
from mine

in the starlight
she seems so far away
in the parklight
I never feel alone
but when you’re gone
it’s me who’s disappeared
could you ever let me be
a fear

it softens you with time
singing along with me
till I feel no shame
in believing
you impress me, love
with everything inside
still I feel this pain
in believing

       

       

Copyright L.M. 2007.  (side note: I don’t usually like using the word “love” as an appellation, for many reasons, but here I just couldn’t think of anything that flowed as well, so…..).

Serious Reflection

back on the isles
a confusing white mess
a figurehead files
off her silvery tress
standing up straight
never meant taking aim
in sinking her plait
you avoid taking blame
she walks along, slow
with a bird on each hand
her tumultuous glow
mirrors water on sand
and this do you cross
with your opening light
upon the wave’s toss
in the soft silken sight
your pining betrays you
as you spy from afar
your pining betrays you
as you gaze at her star
your pining betrays you
too distracted to note
your pining betrays you:
her locks are afloat

   

   

Copyright L.M. 2007.

Maybe he feels the Earth’s rotation…..

Later the same day of the asparagus man encounter, I went into a little shop because I had never been before.  There was a little boy and his mom behind the counter generally occupying themselves with papers and toys.  As I was passing them on my way out of the store, I heard the little boy ask:

“Mom, why is the ground moving?”

I think the funniest part was that I looked at the mother, who was nonchalantly answering his question (too quietly for me to hear), and her expression was completely unaffected, as if this was a normal type of question to be asked of a child standing on solid ground…..