Poetry Matters

sharing a love for language

Category: Uncategorized

To My Muse

Before we begin, please

know this about me – wherever I am

I know I should be somewhere else.

.

Where it is I do not know. But

wherever I am your specter rises – pale

as a ghost drifting above dark grass

.

through which I must walk. But O

how I hope I might stay here,

– at least for a little while – with you.

Lunch Lady

Under a yellow umbrella

the hot dog vendor stirs

her cauldron of bubbling sauerkraut,

air thick with the smell of sausage.

.

Children running from kick ball

and hop scotch, mesmerized,

stop to watch hot dogs slowly turn

above the glowing orange grill.

.

Adults reading their papers,

pay no attention

to her quiet incantations,

and never notice the moon

rising in her dark eyes.

For Mrs. Von Till

Her studio: elegant and austere as a Steinway;
walls deep burgundy, mahogany cornice.
Above the fireplace: one blue iris.

A student stumbles through
Chopin’s Waltz in C# Minor.

“The piano” she tells her student
“is just a thing of wood and wire.
You are the instrument.
Again. Please”

The student begins.
She places her hand
beneath her student’s right elbow
and gently lifts her arm.
Suddenly free
from weight of forearm,
wrist, bone and finger, bird-like,
rising, music fills the room.

Thursday Poet’s Rally Day Award



The Perfect Poet Award Week 25

Thank you Jingle for the Thursday Poet’s Rally.

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The afternoon settles like a small bird

drifting down columns of  leaves

floating through sunlight

.

While sunflowers open to the clouds

drink drops of rain and drift

in perfect circles,

.

we dance in gardens fragrant with delight.

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